Matthew 7:12–14
“So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.
“Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.
The Bible is full of warnings—the story of Jesus is not for those who want to live an unchallenged life. His teachings often come in stark, jarring terms. In this passage, the stakes couldn’t be higher: Jesus describes one gate that leads to life, the other to destruction. More sobering still, it’s the narrow, hard way that leads to life, and the wide, easy path that leads to death.
So, is Jesus just a fear-mongering, fire-and-brimstone preacher? That’s the interpretation many evangelicals run with.
I recently heard a clip of a sermon from the popular evangelical pastor and Bible teacher RC Sproul, who expresses the common interpretation of this passage, based in black-and-white dogmatism. Sproul says, “here’s what I hear Jesus saying: that most, if not the vast majority of human beings that you know and that I know are going to hell.” (Watch the whole clip below if you're in the mood for a good existential crisis.)
But that reading misses the point. It turns Jesus’ invitation into a threat—and misses the revolutionary vision he has for us.
Not a Threat, but a Vision
This statement from Jesus comes near the end of the Sermon on the Mount—his “Kingdom Manifesto,” if you will—a state of the union address for the Kingdom of God. It’s a vision of the world turned right-side up, a picture of what life could look like if God was in charge—if Love ruled the world. He closes the sermon with this summary statement.
But Jesus is not describing punishment in the afterlife. He’s talking about the consequences of how we live right now.
A few verses later, Jesus adds another image to bring his sermon home:
your life can be like a house built on a rock, or a house built on sand.
When the storms come—and they always do—the house on the rock stands firm.
The house on the sand collapses in a ruined heap.
But again, Jesus isn’t talking about who goes to heaven and who goes to hell, he’s describing what happens in our lives when the storm hits.
The “rock” is “these words of mine.” It’s the way of life he’s just described—the way of mercy, peacemaking, and radical love.
This is not theology for the afterlife.
It a blueprint for this one.
And what is the core of Jesus’ teaching? What sits right at the center of it all?
It’s no accident that the verse immediately preceding this stark warning is the so-called golden rule:
“Whatever you wish others would do to you, do also to them.”
The Golden Rule is the Narrow Gate
There is a way that leads to life, a way of living that is solid and sure—a life built on the rock—and Jesus does not leave us in suspense, he spells it out in utmost simplicity. This way of life—the golden rule—is the narrow gate we must enter. And it’s true, there are few who truly live like this. It requires the hard, daily practice of others-focused-love, of imagining another’s perspective, stepping into their shoes, and remembering that every person is a whole universe unto themselves—a divine creation in the image of God. It means ordering our lives to honor that beauty and dignity, which is found in every single person.
This is a way that honors our human solidarity—remembering that at the end of the day we are all in this together. It means embodying what Dr. King said, that “[my neighbor] is a part of me and I am a part of him. His agony diminishes me and his salvation enlarges me.”
The golden rule means the interconnectedness of humanity.
The golden rule means empathy.
But empathy, strangely, has become a cultural battleground.
Elon, Allie, and the War on Compassion
Elon Musk recently claimed in a Joe Rogan interview that empathy is the “fundamental weakness of Western civilization”—a “bug” that makes us vulnerable to “civilizational suicide.” His example? Countries opening their hearts and borders to immigrants.
And unfortunately, many Christians agree with him.
Conservative Christian pundit Allie Beth Stuckey just released a book titled Toxic Empathy: How Progressives Exploit Christian Compassion. Meanwhile, theologian Joe Rigney published The Sin of Empathy.
I’ll admit it: they’re right to be afraid of empathy.
Because empathy changes us like nothing else. It breaks us open, and rearranges our tidy dogmas. When confronted with real human pain, abstract doctrines and religious rules don’t seem quite as important. Jesus is fine with that!
In her book, Stuckey spells out the strategy of Toxic Empathy: progressives will “present a victim”—like a queer person who’s been mistreated—and “tell you their heartrending story so that you have empathy for them,” hoping you’ll change your mind to help that person.
To her, that’s manipulation.
To Jesus, that’s called being human.
Embodying Empathy: True Spirituality
Stuckey believes that our emotions can blind us to reality. But it seems to me that for Jesus, this is the essence of true spirituality. Empathy does not blind us to reality, it opens our eyes to it, because nothing is more real than a wounded person standing in front of me.
When I see myself in my neighbor—and my neighbor in me—I can no longer ignore their pain. And that’s exactly what Jesus did: he let the pain of others move him—all the way to the cross.
Embodying this reality is to take humanity seriously: if we really believe that every single person is made in the image of God and is imbued with inestimable value and worth, then Jesus expects us to act like it.
We want healthcare for ourselves and our loved ones, so we should want everyone to have health care. We wouldn’t want bombs dropping on our babies, so we should demand that our country stop dropping bombs on other people’s babies. We want to be celebrated in our love—so let us celebrate the love of others, even when it looks different from ours.
This hard but holy practice of solidarity and love—for oneself, one’s neighbors, even one’s enemies—is what leads to life: the wholeness and flourishing of the beloved community.
And the alternative? A slow unraveling. A descent into dehumanization and despair.
Jesus makes it clear: this isn’t just a side note. This is everything—“for this is the Law and the Prophets,” Jesus says. In other words, this simple idea is the summation of what this whole sacred text we call the Bible has been getting at all along.
Jesus was not the only or even the first to point this out. The Rabbi Hillel, who taught just before the ministry of Jesus, said “what is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor; that is the whole Torah, while the rest is commentary; go and learn it.”
Hard but not Hidden
Jesus is correct in saying that this is a narrow way, and few find it. Many days, I don’t find it myself. I get lost in my own worries, my own world.
Every morning I wake up, the wide gate is waiting— the way of comfort, control, self-preservation, othering, and tribalism. I could easily fall into the delusions of separation and superiority. I can get so lost in my own experience I forget about the just-as-real experiences of others.
But this way does not lead to life. It leads to the ruin of the soul. As the richest man alive, Elon Musk may seem to have incredible worldly success, but with a life devoid of empathy, he is actually in a collapsing house.
There is a better way. It is hard—but it’s not hidden. It’s not a secret. It’s as near as the person in front of you, and as simple as the question, What would I want, if I were them?
This narrow path is not a doctrine to believe, but a love to embody. Not a litmus test for heaven, but a daily invitation to join the in-breaking of heaven on earth. Not a one-time salvation prayer, but a gate we step through again and again, every time we choose empathy over apathy, and solidarity over scapegoating.
This is the way that leads to life.
Not just someday. Now.
Jesus said,
“Whatever you wish others would do to you, do also to them.
For this is the Law and the Prophets.”
Go and learn it. The rest is just commentary.
For this breath prayer, visualize the image that Jesus gives us, of a wide gate and a narrow gate. Remember that this choice is always before you.
Inhale: May I enter the narrow gate
Exhale: And treat my neighbor as myself
PAUSE
Inhale: May I walk the narrow path
Exhale: And see my neighbor in myself
I'm weeping. Thank you. I'm weeping for those with emptiness in their hearts. I'm weeping at the impact of walking devoid of love does to others. I'm weeping as I try to keep walking through narrow gates, feeling often alone, wrong, and outcasted. I'm just weeping, perhaps allowing the anger to be distilled.
Thank you, Brian. You provide excellent narrative to convey the importance of empathy and love for others. Thanks for keeping me on the narrow path with your thoughtful writings.