An old road goes through the woods behind my house. It’s abandoned now. Even though little plant roots are starting to crack its asphalt and the steel guard rails alongside it are slowly rusting into nothingness, still, you can tell that there was a road there. Its ugly scar has permanently marred the verdant forest.
Man is a complex creature. Though made from the lowliest of stuff he bears the image of his Creator. The highest glory of the whole universe has been placed inside of him. Man has a conscience. He can make choices.
Some men’s consciences look like the scene behind my house. Years of not heeding the voice within has left an ugly scar for ever. Time alone cannot erase its effect. Like buried plastic it doesn’t just go away.
I live with people who are working hard to uncover another ancient road. It is narrow and it leads to life. To travel it a man must abandon himself and surrender his old life doomed to destruction. This road began when the very Creator of mankind came to the earth. Made of the same stuff as we are, he lived as a man. He uncovered the ancient way and made it accessible to anyone who would humble himself. The new life he offered came about through his blood. It was poured out upon the tortured earth as a sacrifice. It can cover and erase our sins, and erase all the scars of our tortured conscience.