Thus says the Lord: ‘Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.’ (Jeremiah 6:16)
The Sacred Crossroads
Every morning you wake to a crossroads. Before your feet touch the floor, before the demands of the day press in upon you, you stand at that holy intersection where eternity meets time. Will you choose the wide road of spiritual drift, that well-traveled highway of busyness, distraction, and half-hearted devotion? Or will you step onto the narrow path, the ancient way that leads to life abundant and deep communion with the living God? This is no small choice, for it shapes not only your day but the very trajectory of your soul.
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The crossroads isn’t merely a metaphor; it’s the spiritual reality in which we live and move and have our being. Every choice to pray rather than scroll, to meditate on Scripture rather than consume mindless entertainment, to seek God’s face rather than human approval, these are the moments when we choose the ancient path. The voice of the Lord still echoes across the centuries: “This is the way, walk in it” (Isaiah 30:21). He calls us not to innovation but to restoration, not to novelty but to the time-tested way of the saints who have walked before us.
Yet in our age of endless options and infinite distractions, we often stand paralyzed at the crossroads, overwhelmed by choices that seem to multiply rather than clarify. We live in what sociologist Zygmunt Bauman called “liquid modernity,” a world where all the old certainties have melted away, leaving us to navigate an endless sea of possibilities without fixed landmarks. In such a world, the ancient voice that calls us to “stand at the crossroads and look” offers not constraint but clarity, not limitation but liberation from the tyranny of infinite choice.
The crossroads is where pilgrims pause to consult their maps, to remember their destination, to choose their direction with intention rather than drift with circumstance. It is the place of holy discernment, where we ask not “What feels good?” or “What seems expedient?” but “Where is the good way?” The Hebrew word for “good” here is tov, the same word used in Genesis when God saw that his creation was good. We are being invited to choose the way that aligns with God’s original design, the path that leads toward the restoration of all that sin has corrupted and broken.
The Wide Road and the Narrow Path
Jesus himself drew our attention to this spiritual crossroads in his Sermon on the Mount, warning us that there are only two ways: “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it” (Matthew 7:13-14). These words cut through the comfortable assumption that all spiritual paths lead to the same destination. Christ presents us with a stark choice: the wide road or the narrow path, destruction or life, the many or the few.
The wide road appears attractive because it accommodates our natural inclinations. It allows us to blend our faith with the spirit of the age, to follow Christ without the inconvenience of radical discipleship, to enjoy the benefits of religious identity without the cost of spiritual transformation. This road is crowded because it asks so little of us, a decision here, a prayer there, a church attendance occasionally, but no fundamental reordering of our loves, no dying to self, no taking up of the cross. It is the way of what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace,” grace without discipleship, forgiveness without repentance, blessing without transformation.
The narrow path, by contrast, demands everything while promising everything. It is the way of costly grace, where every step requires us to choose Christ over comfort, truth over convenience, eternal treasure over temporal pleasure. This path is narrow not because God is stingy with his love but because following Jesus requires the whole person, heart, soul, mind, and strength given wholly to God. The narrow path cannot accommodate our divided loyalties, our competing allegiances, our desire to serve both God and mammon.
Yet here is the paradox that the saints have discovered across the centuries: the narrow path, though demanding, is also liberating. Like a riverbank that channels water toward its destination, the boundaries of the narrow way guide us toward the fullness of life that God intends. The wide road, for all its apparent freedom, leads ultimately to bondage, the bondage of meaninglessness, the slavery of sin, the prison of self-absorption. The narrow path, though difficult, leads to the freedom of knowing who we are, why we exist, and where we are going.
The choice between these two ways is not made once but daily, hourly, moment by moment. We stand at the crossroads every time we face temptation, every time we must choose between our will and God’s will, every time we decide whether to live for ourselves or for Christ. The ancient devotion of Devotio Antiqua is nothing more and nothing less than the daily, sustained choice of the narrow path, not out of grim duty but out of love for the One who is himself the Way.
Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in Our Modern Age
“But surely,” some might object, “we need contemporary approaches for contemporary problems. Why look backward when we need to move forward?” This question reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of both progress and wisdom. True progress is not the rejection of the past but the integration of timeless wisdom with present circumstances. The pilot who ignores the ancient principles of aerodynamics in favor of the latest fad will crash; the physician who dismisses the accumulated medical knowledge of centuries in favor of untested innovations will harm his patients. How much more should we who seek to navigate the spiritual life draw upon the tested wisdom of those who have walked the path of faith before us?
Our age faces unique challenges, to be sure, but they are variations on timeless themes. The digital distractions that fragment our attention are new in form but ancient in their essential character, they are simply the latest version of what Scripture calls “the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life” (1 John 2:16). The therapeutic spirituality that promises fulfillment without transformation is merely a contemporary expression of the false prophets who proclaimed “peace, peace” when there was no peace (Jeremiah 6:14). The individualistic religion that makes the self the center of spiritual concern is just the newest iteration of the idolatry that has tempted humanity since Eden.
Against these perennial challenges, ancient wisdom offers proven remedies. The Desert Fathers knew something about silence that our hyperconnected age desperately needs to learn. The monastic tradition understood rhythms of work and prayer that could bring sanity to our frantic pace of life. The mystics grasped truths about union with God that could liberate us from our obsession with self-improvement and personal success. The Reformers recovered biblical clarity that could cut through the confusion of our relativistic culture. Each generation of faithful Christians has faced the crossroads and chosen the narrow path, leaving behind wisdom that can guide our own steps.
This is not mere traditionalism, the dead faith of the living, but what Jaroslav Pelikan called “tradition,” the living faith of the dead. Ancient wisdom is not ancient because it is old but because it is true, and truth does not expire with the passage of time. The same God who led Abraham from Ur and delivered Israel from Egypt is the God who calls us to walk in his ways today. The same Christ who died and rose again two thousand years ago is the Christ who meets us at the crossroads now. The same Holy Spirit who empowered the apostles and sustained the martyrs is the Spirit who offers to guide us along the ancient path.
Furthermore, the wisdom of the ages serves as a spiritual immune system, strengthening our souls against the particular maladies of our cultural moment. When contemporary spirituality promises transformation without surrender, the desert fathers remind us that authentic growth requires genuine repentance. When modern religion focuses on what we can get from God rather than who we can become in God, the mystics call us back to the joy of divine union. When individualistic faith isolates us in private religious experience, the liturgical heritage draws us into the corporate life of the body of Christ where iron sharpens iron and community shapes character.
Pilgrimage, Not Nostalgia
Devotio Antiqua, Ancient Devotion, is not an attempt to recreate the past but to recover the eternal. It is not about wearing medieval robes or speaking in King James English but about drinking from the deep wells of Christian wisdom that have sustained pilgrims across the centuries. This vision recognizes that while cultural forms change, the fundamental patterns of spiritual transformation remain constant. The same God who formed the hearts of those who have faithfully walked the ancient way is at work in our hearts today, using means of grace that transcend cultural boundaries.
The word “devotion” itself comes from the Latin devotio, meaning “to vow” or “to dedicate.” It speaks of a life given over completely to God, held back from nothing, offered freely in love and gratitude. Ancient devotion is not merely an intellectual appreciation for historical theology but a lived commitment to the patterns of faith, hope, and love that have characterized authentic Christianity in every age. It is devotion shaped by Scripture, informed by tradition, practiced in community, and oriented toward the eternal.
This vision stands in sharp contrast to the spiritual nostalgia that sometimes masquerades as traditional faith. Nostalgia is about the past; devotion is about the eternal. Nostalgia seeks to preserve forms; devotion seeks to participate in the life of God. Nostalgia is sentimental; devotion is transformational. The nostalgic person wants to visit the past like a tourist; the devoted person wants to walk the ancient path like a pilgrim.
The difference between tourism and pilgrimage is crucial for understanding Devotio Antiqua. The tourist travels for entertainment, seeking novel experiences and photo opportunities. The tourist remains fundamentally unchanged by the journey, collecting memories and souvenirs but returning home essentially the same person who left. The pilgrim, by contrast, travels for transformation. The pilgrim expects to be changed by the journey, challenged by the difficulties of the road, and ultimately to arrive not only at a destination but as a different person than the one who began the pilgrimage.
Too much contemporary spirituality is spiritual tourism, sampling experiences, collecting insights, trying new techniques, but never submitting to the long, slow work of transformation that authentic discipleship requires. Devotio Antiqua calls us to spiritual pilgrimage, to a lifetime journey of growing conformity to Christ, guided by the wisdom of those who have walked this path before us, sustained by practices that have proven their formative power across the centuries.
This pilgrimage metaphor is deeply biblical. From Abraham’s call to leave Ur and journey to the promised land, through Israel’s wilderness wandering, to the early church’s identification as “the Way,” Scripture consistently presents the life of faith as a journey. We are not called to a single moment of decision but to a lifetime of walking with God. We are not promised immediate arrival at our destination but the assurance that God walks with us on the road. We are not left to find our own way but given the wisdom of Scripture and the guidance of the Spirit, along with the accumulated wisdom of those who have walked before us.
Our Ancient Symbol
Throughout our exploration of the ancient path, one symbol will accompany us as a faithful guide: the Celtic cross. This isn’t merely decorative choice but theological necessity. Every pilgrim needs landmarks to navigate by, symbols that remind us of our destination when the path grows dark or difficult.
The Celtic cross, that ancient fusion of Christian cross and encompassing circle, speaks powerfully to our theme of standing at crossroads. Just as we must daily choose between competing ways, this symbol represents the intersection of profound realities: the historical and the eternal, the earthly and the heavenly, the cross of suffering and the circle of unending love.
For the Celtic Christians who first carved these crosses into stone, they were not mere monuments but proclamations. They declared that Christ’s reign extends over all creation, that his love encompasses all of time, that his cross stands at the center of cosmic history. When we see the Celtic cross, we remember that our daily crossroads choices are part of a much larger story, God’s redemption of all things through the crucified and risen Christ.
As you consider your own journey into Devotio Antiqua, let this ancient symbol remind you that following Christ means living deliberately at the intersection of time and eternity. Every choice to pray instead of worry, to serve instead of consume, to forgive instead of harbor resentment places you precisely where the Celtic cross points: at the crossroads where Heaven meets earth.
As we proceed through this exploration of ancient devotion, let the Celtic cross be more than a decorative element. Let it be a meditation, a prayer, a daily reminder that Jesus Christ is Lord over every sphere of life, over Heaven and earth, time and space, life and death. Let it remind us of Abraham Kuyper’s words that there is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is sovereign over all, does not cry “Mine!”
The Golden Thread of Christian Tradition
One of the most beautiful aspects of Devotio Antiqua is how it reveals the golden thread of faithful devotion that runs through the entire history of the Church. Despite differences in culture, language, and historical circumstance, the same essential patterns of spiritual transformation appear again and again in the lives of authentic disciples across the centuries.
Augustine of Hippo in the fourth century and John Wesley in the eighteenth century, despite their different theological emphases, both understood that the heart of Christianity is the love of God transforming the human heart. Benedict of Nursia in the sixth century and Richard Foster in the twentieth century, despite their different contexts, both recognized that spiritual disciplines are means of grace, not ends in themselves. Julian of Norwich in the fourteenth century and C.S. Lewis in the twentieth century, despite their different literary styles, both grasped the radical nature of God’s love revealed in Christ.
This golden thread is not uniformity but unity, unity around the central realities of Christian faith: the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Cross, the Resurrection, the work of the Holy Spirit in sanctification, the hope of the consummation. These realities have been expressed in different ways in different eras, but they remain constant because they reflect the unchanging nature of God and his work in the world.
The existence of this golden thread means that we are not alone in our spiritual struggles. The doubts that assail us have been faced by centuries of saints before us. The temptations that threaten to derail our discipleship have been overcome by ordinary believers in every generation. The longings for God that sometimes seem too intense to bear have been the very motivation that drove pilgrims forward on the ancient path. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses who cheer us on in the race of faith.
But this golden thread also means that we have access to tested remedies for our spiritual ailments. The dryness that sometimes characterizes our prayer life has been experienced and overcome by the Desert Fathers and Mothers. The distractions that fragment our worship have been faced and conquered by monastic communities that learned to create environments conducive to encountering God. The discouragement that comes from slow progress in holiness has been endured and transcended by mystics who learned to trust in God’s transforming grace rather than their own efforts.
Choosing the Ancient Path Today
Standing at the crossroads of our contemporary moment, we face the same fundamental choice that has confronted every generation of believers: Will we choose the wide road of cultural accommodation and spiritual superficiality, or will we walk the narrow path of costly discipleship and authentic transformation? The wide road promises ease and approval; the narrow path promises life and joy. The wide road is crowded with those who want to follow Jesus without the inconvenience of faithful obedience; the narrow path is traveled by those who have discovered that losing their life for Christ’s sake is the only way to truly find it.
Devotio Antiqua is nothing more and nothing less than a sustained commitment to choose the narrow path, informed by the wisdom of those who have walked it before us. It is not a new spirituality but the recovery of an ancient one. It is not innovation but restoration. It is not departure from biblical faith but return to its deepest wellsprings.
This choice cannot be made once and then forgotten. Like the Israelites who had to gather manna fresh each day, we must choose the ancient path daily, moment by moment, decision by decision. We must ask ourselves: Will I pray or will I scroll? Will I meditate on Scripture or consume mindless entertainment? Will I seek God’s will or my own? Will I live for eternity or for time? Will I walk the narrow path or drift along the wide road?
The beauty of Devotio Antiqua is that it provides not only the motivation for these daily choices but also the means of grace that make faithful choosing possible. The spiritual disciplines that have sustained pilgrims across the centuries, prayer – Scripture meditation, Sabbath rest, fasting, silence, confession, worship, service – are not burdens to be borne but gifts to be received. They create space in our lives for God to work, channels through which his grace can flow, rhythms that shape our souls toward Christlikeness.
As we stand at the crossroads of our own spiritual journey, the ancient voice still calls: “This is the way, walk in it.” The path is narrow, yes, but it is also good. It is demanding, but it is also liberating. It is costly, but it is also glorious. It is the path that Jesus himself walked, and the path on which he promises to meet us.
The crossroads awaits your choice. The ancient path beckons your steps. The Celtic cross reminds you that you are called to live at the intersection of time and eternity, carrying the love of God into every sphere of your existence. But this calling requires more than intellectual assent, it demands concrete steps of obedience, practical rhythms of devotion, and daily choices that align our lives with the narrow way that leads to life.
Devotio Antiqua is not a destination but a direction, not a program but a pilgrimage. It begins not with grand gestures but with simple steps, not with perfect understanding but with faithful obedience. The ancient path is walked one step at a time, one choice at a time, one day at a time.
Walking Points: Steps on the Ancient Path
The ancient path is not walked by good intentions alone but by concrete steps of obedience and devotion. Here are three practical ways to begin choosing the narrow way in your daily life:
Walking Point 1: The Morning Crossroads
Begin each day with a moment of conscious choice. Before checking your phone, scrolling social media, or diving into the day’s agenda, pause at the edge of your bed and ask: “Lord, will I walk your narrow path today, or will I drift along the wide road?” Offer a simple prayer: “This day belongs to you. Help me choose your way in every decision I face.” This simple practice transforms your morning from reactive to intentional, from drifting to devotion.
Walking Point 2: The Evening Examination
End each day by examining your crossroads choices. Before sleep, spend five minutes reflecting on the day’s decisions: Where did you choose the narrow path? Where did you drift onto the wide road? What drew you toward Christ, and what pulled you away from him? This is not for self-condemnation but for learning the patterns of grace and resistance in your life. Thank God for his faithfulness even in your failures, and ask for wisdom to choose better tomorrow.
Walking Point 3: The Ancient Wisdom Study
Choose one voice from Christian tradition to walk alongside you this month. Select a short work from the saints who have walked the ancient path before us, perhaps Augustine’s Confessions, à Kempis’s Imitation of Christ, or Brother Lawrence’s Practice of the Presence of God. Read slowly, not for information but for formation. Ask: “What is this ancient pilgrim teaching me about walking with Christ today?” Let their wisdom become a companion voice guiding your steps on the narrow way.
Questions for Reflection
- What specific moments in your typical day represent “crossroads” where you must choose between God’s way and the world’s way?
- How has spiritual “tourism” (seeking experiences without commitment to transformation) shown up in your own faith journey?
- What draws you toward the wide road of cultural Christianity, and what would help you choose the narrow path more consistently?
- Which ancient Christian voices or practices have you been curious about but never explored? Why might now be the time to begin?
Prayer for the Journey
O Lord of the ancient path, you have called your people in every generation to walk in your ways. As I stand at the crossroads of my own spiritual journey, grant me wisdom to choose the narrow way that leads to life.
Help me to see beyond the immediate attractions of the wide road to its ultimate destination. Give me courage to embrace the demands of discipleship and grace to persevere when the path grows difficult.
Surround me with the cloud of witnesses who have walked this path before me. Let their wisdom guide my steps, their example encourage my heart, and their prayers sustain my soul.
Shape me by your Word, form me by your Spirit, and conform me to the image of your Son. Let the rhythms of ancient devotion become channels of your grace in my life.
And when my earthly pilgrimage is complete, receive me not as a stranger but as one who has walked the good and ancient way, following in the footsteps of our Lord Jesus Christ.
In his holy name I pray. Amen.
The crossroads awaits. The ancient path beckons. The choice is yours.
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