Is 66:18-2; Heb 12:5-7, 11-13; Lk 13:22-30.
In the heart of the medieval city of Constantinople stood mighty walls, strong enough to repel invaders for centuries. The main gates were wide and bustling — merchants entered with carts full of goods, soldiers marched in proud columns, and travelers poured in from distant lands. Yet there was one gate unlike the rest: a small, low passageway known as The Eye of the Needle. This was not a gate for proud parades or loaded caravans. It was narrow — so narrow that a camel could only pass if its burdens were unloaded and it was led through on its knees.
At night, for the safety of the city, the great gates were shut. Any latecomer had one choice: the little gate. But it came with a price — strip off the load, stoop low, and pass humbly. Many travelers, after long journeys, stood outside in frustration. They could see the lights of the city, hear the laughter and smell the food inside, but the great gates were closed. They had to decide: hold on to their baggage and remain outside or leave it behind and enter through the narrow door.
Jesus’ words in Luke 13 carry this same image. A narrow door is open now, but it will not be open forever. And when it shuts, no amount of knocking, pleading, or past acquaintance will open it again.