Few Find It
By Mikey & V
They said the road was narrow,
but I didn’t think it would be this lonely.
I thought maybe I’d see more travelers—
more footsteps next to mine,
more echoes in the canyon of conviction.
But the further I walk,
the quieter it gets.
I used to wonder why.
Used to ask how a God so loving
could make a path so small.
But now I see—
He didn’t make it narrow.
We did.
We built the wide road with compromise.
Paved it with self-help sermons,
lined it with golden altars to comfort and self.
And called it “faith”
because we clapped while walking.
But the narrow way?
That one cuts.
That one bleeds.
That one breaks you before it builds you.
It doesn’t offer applause.
It offers refinement.
It takes your idols
and smashes them in front of you,
then hands you the dust and says,
“Now, build again—with Me.”
The wide road is easy
because it demands nothing.
The narrow road is holy
because it demands everything.
So yes,
few find it.
Because most don’t want to lose
what they secretly worship.
Few find it
because truth sounds like betrayal
when you’re loyal to a lie.
Few find it
because the gate isn’t guarded—
it’s hidden
in the place religion never searches:
the surrendered heart.
But I’m still walking.
And if I reach the end alone,
so be it.
Because I’d rather walk a narrow path
with fire in my chest,
than dance the wide road
with chains on my soul.
Few find it.
But those who do…
They never go back.

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