By Nils Peter Wetterlund A child of God has their order of grace. This consists of the “Little Bible” (the Sermon on the Mount*), and is referred to as the narrow gate and the narrow way. Note that it is only in the Sermon on the Mount that we find these four meaningful expressions: narrow gate, narrow way, wide gate and broad way (Matt. 7:13-14). These are the orders (or progressions) of life and death. What, then, is the narrow gate? The Sermon on the Mount is the narrow gate. What is the narrow way? The Sermon on the Mount is the narrow way. But what is true of the Sermon on the Mount is true of all of God’s word. That is to say: God’s word is the narrow gate and the narrow way. But all of God’s word is about Jesus Christ. Therefore, Jesus Christ is the gate (or door), and the way (John 10:9). The fact that the Sermon on the Mount is the narrow gate is something the wise house builder experiences. He takes to heart the eternally weighty closing words: whoever does the Sermon on the Mount, he builds on the rock. And these words should be taken to heart above all else, because they determine eternity itself. They clearly show that only the one who does it—and no one else—has a building of salvation that stands firm in all sorts of weather. Therefore, anyone who wants to become a child of God should be on guard against believing that the Sermon on the Mount, with its profound and serious requirements, has only been given so that we may learn to recognize our powerlessness and shortcomings—and then set it aside without doing it, while taking refuge in something we call “the gospel.” That is not what the Lord meant when He said we should do it. Then He would be saying one thing and meaning another. But He was never deceitful. And if this word from Jesus is not received with seriousness, things will go wrong from the outset, and the sinful self will preserve its life under a covering of isolated promises. So people hang there for years on the edge of “evangelical” forgiveness, in the midst of powerful movements of grace and delightful feelings, which they misinterpret and consider to be spiritual life. Then one of two things happens: either God, through long detours and often harsh punishments, seeks to regain what is lacking in the word as a means of grace which they have crippled, or they slowly sink into the most dangerous form of hardening—the Pharisaical hardening of the promise. We know what that has led to in the world. Judaism in Jesus’ time clearly demonstrates this, where they had become masters in the art of splitting and dividing the truth. They extracted the blessing of Abraham from Abraham’s covenant (Matt. 3:8-9), but they discarded the faith of Abraham which sacrificed Isaac. They proudly called themselves children of Abraham, but when it came to his works, they wanted no part in being counted among his descendants (John 8:39). They were heirs of the patriarch in everything except for his mindset (John 8:40). They treated the entire Old Testament in the same way: the most important parts of the law were neglected (Matt. 23:23). They put their trust in Moses, but did not believe him, as the Lord said (John 5:45-46). This is how they fell asleep on a pillow of isolated promises. Their inner light turned into darkness, and the lamp of their consciences was extinguished (Matt. 7:22-23; 12:41-42). And then Moses cried out to deaf ears; John did the same, and so did the Lord. Moses, John the Baptist and Christ—they were all dismissed by the truth-dividing generations of their times. They saw nothing and heard nothing, because a person never sleeps so soundly as when they are resting on a truth that has been torn to shreds. Neither the thunder from Sinai, the cry in the wilderness, nor the voice of the Lord—whether He says “blessed” eight times or “woe” eight times (Matt. 23:13-39)—wakes them up. They concealed this inner danger from themselves and others by an outward spiritual zeal and many activities; they cleansed the dish and whitewashed the graves on the outside. They eagerly held onto the promise of the Messiah, but they were invariably drawn to divide and cut the image of holiness and righteousness from this promise. And in this way their Messiah was cast down to earth with them. He had to align with their own minds, become an earthly king (of course with spiritual makeup applied)—a savior for self-life, the flesh, and hypocrisy. If this isn’t what He wanted, He would have to die. This is how they split and divided the final hope of the Old Testament. And this is how they came onto the path of the dividers and to the end-goal of the dividers: Calvary. There, the Jewish-divider held the nail, while the Roman Gentile held the hammer. And in this way, they eventually reached the very heart of the lie, all the while being so assured in their belief that they were in the truth, that they would have put their lives on the line for it. This is how it has been in every age. Beware, O soul! On the plane of division, you will always, sooner or later, slip down into a form of Calvary, where you will participate, in one way or another, in killing the truth. That is to say: The danger for the Jews was this, as the Lord said: You put your hope in Moses, but you do not believe him (John 5:45-46). The danger for the Christian is this: You put your hope in Christ, but you do not believe Him when He says: whoever does the Sermon on the Mount builds on the rock. But let us believe Him. We are to do the Sermon on the Mount, and we can do it, because it is the gospel. The secret is simply to accept it as a gospel—as a gift for the new birth. And we should not wait until next week to do it, or a year from now, or until we are saved, because then we will never be saved. The Lord never gave an exemption from doing it. He never granted a moment’s delay in doing the truth. Neither did John the Baptist, who was the preacher of the gate. He said, “Bear fruit!” To the people he said: “He who has two tunics, let him give to him who has none; and he who has food, let him do likewise.” To the tax collectors: “Collect no more than what is appointed for you.” To the soldiers: “Do not intimidate anyone or accuse falsely, and be content with your wages.” Luke 3:10-14. So we are to start now by fleeing from everything we know to be evil, and doing everything we know to be right and good—precisely where we are in our lives. When we start to do the Sermon on the Mount, then it starts becoming a gate for us. It quite quickly makes things narrow. Adam wants free rein—without any limits. The Sermon on the Mount clamps down on your heart, your will, your senses, and your members. Sooner or later, it will become so cramped that we will never be able to come through it with our lives intact. It literally squeezes our old man—our selfish ego—to death. And this is necessary, because without it there is no salvation. The old Adam must die if the new Adam is to dwell in our hearts. But when it has squeezed us to death, it changes places: it disappears as a gate and enters our hearts as a new life. Now the Sermon on the Mount becomes the narrow way. Now we can do it, not out of compulsion, but from the bottom of our hearts. We can walk on it in the power it contains. Thus, the Sermon on the Mount is the narrow gate and the narrow way. But we mentioned earlier that this applies to all of the word of God. First, there is a narrow gate and then a narrow way. First, it stands on the outside and makes room in the heart, and when the room is ready, it enters. In other words: first the Lord walks beside us, but after the way has been cleared for the King of Glory, He comes inside. This is the order of grace of the “Little Bible”—the order of grace for the children of God. How simple it is! In this way, the word of God always presents itself to people as a gospel—as the fulfillment of the law and the prophets (Matt. 5:17). But if people are unable to accept it as a gospel, the word surrounds them like a law and disciplines them until they accept it as a gospel—as a gift of grace. As a word of the “gate”, it is a law; as a word of the “way”, it is a gospel. This is expressed so well in the words spoken at the altar: “Lift up your hearts to God!” Yes, this is what it depends on. There can be a person standing in church who can lift his heart up to God, that is, he believes. For him, this text—no matter its content—is a gospel. It flows down into the upturned vessel of his heart as a forgiving, life-giving, strengthening, cleansing, and encouraging oil of the Spirit, all according to its content. But there can also be a person standing in church who cannot lift up his heart. For him, this text becomes a law, even though it consists of the most wonderful promise. The text stands on the outside with an encouragement that is to be received as a gift—but it cannot be accepted, because the vessel needed to receive it is lacking. The difference between a law and a gospel does not lie in the words themselves. A law and a gospel are not different parts or types of the word. We have seen that the word of God is in itself of only one indivisible type: it is a gospel, and it is just as indivisible as the Lord Himself is indivisible. The difference between a law and a gospel is the difference between the word of God as a word of the “gate” and the word of God as a word of the “way”; either as something that stands on the outside, or as something that dwells in the heart; as an Old Testament or a New Testament word of God. There are, therefore, differences in the nature and effectiveness of the word, depending on how I relate to it. To a “gate-heart” it professes itself as a law, to a “way-heart” as a gospel. Either the entire word of God is a law and prophecy to me, having the nature of the law and the power of a taskmaster, or the entire word of God is a gospel to me, having the nature of the gospel, and the power of forgiveness and rebirth. Either it is an entirely Old Testament or an entirely New Testament dispensation of grace—never a mixture of both. A person is either under the law or under grace. Being born again denotes the established “national boundary” between the two. Through this, a person enters the heavenly kingdom of Pentecost, which was “at hand” when the Lord walked here on earth—because it was in Him—and which entered into human hearts on the day of Pentecost. (Excerpt from the chapter “The Order of Grace” in the book “Jesu lära” [The Teachings of Jesus], published in 1902. Translated from Swedish.) *Earlier in the book, Wetterlund asserts that the Sermon on the Mount is the “Little Bible” for Christians. When he uses this expression, he is referring to the Sermon on the Mount.

Peter is probably one of the twelve disciples of Jesus who we know best. We read that as a young man he immediately left his nets to follow Jesus. As a disciple, he could seem to be a bit impulsive and he was often the first to speak up. When they saw Jesus walking on the sea, it was Peter who went out to meet Jesus on the water, but when he saw the waves, he began to sink and cried out to Jesus for help. It was Peter who had the revelation that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the living God, but when Jesus said shortly afterwards that He would suffer in Jerusalem, it was Peter who began to rebuke Jesus, saying that this should never happen. He would never, ever, want Jesus to wash his feet, but when Jesus explained it to him, he wanted not only to have his feet washed by Jesus, but also his hands and his head. When Jesus mentioned during the Passover meal that Peter would deny him three times, Peter replied that even if he had to die with Jesus, he would not deny Him. And this really was his intention. In Gethsemane, he drew his sword out of love for his master and cut off Malchus’ ear, but a little later, he denied Jesus three times. After the resurrection, Jesus asked him three times if he loved Him, and then he was grieved. “Lord, You know all things,” he said to Jesus, “You know that I love you.” John 21:17. That was absolutely true. In the midst of his weakness, he had kept his first love for Jesus through everything. Later, we read in the Acts of the Apostles that Peter received the Holy Spirit. Then we see a completely different Peter—empowered by the Spirit and speaking with great boldness in Jerusalem—while many signs and wonders were performed by him and the other apostles. He was there at the beginning of the church. We don’t know much about how Peter fared during the many decades later in his life, but his letters give us a very clear impression of the tremendous development that took place in his life. He writes very little about all the things he experienced as a young disciple, or about the great miracles that took place in the early days after Pentecost. On the other hand, it is stirring to read in his letters about the life and understanding he came to. In the beginning of his second letter, he writes that we have been given all things that pertain to life and godliness, and that we have been given exceedingly great and precious promises, that through these we might be partakers of the divine nature. 2 Pet. 1:3-4. He writes about a holy life in all our conduct, a life where we flee the corruption that comes through lust, a life where the virtues of Christ grow in abundance. This had become the greatest and most crucial thing for him. This same Peter who once was not mindful of the things of God, truly received revelation about the hidden work that took place in Jesus while He was here on earth. He teaches in detail how it is precisely through suffering and trials that transformation can also take place in us. He writes about Jesus in 1 Pet. 3:18, “. . . being put to death in the flesh but made alive by the Spirit.” Then he continues with this revelation: “Therefore, since Christ suffered for us in the flesh, arm yourselves also with the same mind, for he who has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin.” 1 Pet. 4:1. He received revelation about the salvation in Christ by following in Jesus’ footsteps, by sharing in Christ’s sufferings, and by suffering in the flesh. It is not surprising that Peter is the one who explains that in this process, we must be on guard against what arises from our soul. Peter understood that our soul needs to be purified. And not least of all when we are in sufferings, we shouldn’t think it strange, or think that we can discern everything and everyone fairly. Throughout his long life, Peter kept himself in a burning first love for Jesus. Peter’s life truly speaks a clear and extremely hopeful message to us. He was able to write based on his own experiences in life: “But may the God of all grace, who called us to His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a while, perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle you.” 1 Pet. 5:10.Jan-Hein Staal

In Isaiah it is written: “He awakens My ear to hear as the learned. The Lord God has opened My ear.” God works with His disciples with a specific purpose and opens their ears so they can hear; so it is vital for me to ask myself whether my ear is open to hear what He says, what the Holy Spirit says in my situations. God will speak to me about what dwells in me, about human pride, about my own strength, and many other such things. We are very stubborn as people, and our ears are drowned out by our own opinions, our senses, and our own righteousness; but it is written here that He was not rebellious, nor did He turn away, but He committed Himself to Him who judges righteously. That is how our Master and Lord was, and it is important that I ask myself: “How is it with me? Am I a disciple? Do I want to learn what He wants to teach me?” When something happens or when something is said, is my ear open? Do I hear what He is saying to me in these circumstances? What about situations where things seem to be unfair or untrue? This is where I experience that the flesh fights against the Spirit and the Spirit against the flesh, and they are contrary to one another. Then I have to consciously choose which side I’m on, and who I open my ear to each morning. It is very important that I work deliberately on my own salvation with fear and trembling, so I am aware that the Lord is at hand in my daily life. If I allow myself to be controlled by the flesh, then the things of the earth, the world and the lust of it, will control me throughout the day. However, when I choose to be led by the Spirit of God as His disciple, I will notice how this resistance arises within me, and how the flesh then wants to draw back. A disciple wants to be close to his Master, and he hates everything that originates from his flesh; he takes up his cross every day. We have been called to be Jesus’ brothers, His bride who follows Him. These are the ones who consciously choose the same battle and race so that they do not resist the Spirit or draw back from suffering, but instead they run with purpose in the race of the Spirit and they fight against their human nature. God be praised for the calling and election we have received to be His disciples, those who partake of the Father and the Son, and the word of God is manifested in their lives. God be praised that we are able to partake in the virtues of Christ on this way, so that we are transformed every day, and become like Him in all things.Victor Claudiu Avram