Two paths you can go by

Written as sermon for Bear Creek United Methodist Church, Woodinville, Washington

As I walk through life, I'm constantly faced with choices. Months ago, I had an experience which for me has come to symbolize these choices. My choices now appear as forks in the road, or branches in a path. This is, of course, often a metaphor; the choices are not always physical, and not always as clear-cut as two trails diverging in the forest.

I believe these are paths of God's preference. The choices are mine—but the direction is The Lord's. God has a destination that I don't always perceive. The difficulty here, and danger, too, is when God's paths are not the ones I want to travel.

We all know the old chestnut about hindsight being 20-20. As I walk life's paths and review the choices I've made, the right ones seem to stand out. I look back and see where God wanted me to be—and see that I benefited by making the correct choice.

It's like the Robert Frost poem, The Road Not Taken:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. (Frost).

Now, more about the wrong paths:

1. Which choice is right

God will tell us which choice is right. Consider the words of David, the Psalmist, trusting his life to the Lord without knowing where God was leading: Make me know thy ways, O Lord, teach me thy paths. Lead me in thy truth, and teach me, for thou art the God of my salvation; for thee I wait all the day long. (Psalm 25:4-5)

My experience, the recent one I remember clearest, was walking away from my home in rather a fit of anger. I'm human, Lord forgive me, and my situation has been stressful since I lost my job two years ago. So when some little thing cause me to lose my cool and spill over, I decided to take a walk.

At first, I had no destination, I just wanted to walk and clear my head. After I walked for about an hour, I began to see that I was making tracks for a park near Redmond's boundary.

As I walked, I became aware of God's voice prompting me at every fork in the road. The Lord instructed me where I should go but in my anger, I stubbornly resisted. At the first corner, I could have turned and walked back home. Instead, I continued along the arterial. When I came to the four-way stop, I could have crossed and walked back home—"no way, Lord, I'm angry." When I reached the powerline trail, I could have followed the street back—I went straight. When I reached the main road, I could have gone south and back up the hill—but I went north and east.

All in all, I look back and see more than two dozen places where my path branched. And at every one of them, every one of them, I clearly heard God say, "Now, Michael, I want you to go this way." And every time, I went the opposite direction.

When finally I reached the Redmond park, I was exhausted. I thought I'd pulled the muscles in both thighs. I knew I had a blister on my right foot, so I took off my boot, put it behind my head, and laid on a picnic table to watch the sky.

It was almost dark when I woke up. My foot was freezing and everything ached. But I knew—it was very clear— that I needed to go home. I wanted to go home. And I heard God telling me I had to.

Even though I thought I alone had the power of choosing my path, God was patiently there with good advice. I was too human and too angry to listen.

2. We may not know the wrong choice

There is an important thing to remember. We may not immediately know we've made the wrong choice. During my walk, I was oblivious to the physical suffering to come. I used to be a good hiker, and though I've become a computer jockey, I believed I'd be okay.

It wasn't until I started home that I realized just what a mistake I'd made. By the time I got to the foot of my hill, I could hardly move.

That's the ironic thing about these choices. The wrong path is not usually marked as dangerous or painful. God said "I think you should go this way." God never said, "If you go that way, you'll be sorry."

I walked farther than my body could handle because I didn't realize I wasn't adequately prepared—physically, mentally, or spiritually.

But the grace is that God also never said, "I told you so." The Lord waited for me to realize my failings and confess my unworthiness. God wants us to seek Christ's promise of forgiving healing, and when we ask, it is granted immediately.

At the bottom of my home hill, I started to pray. As I plodded, one foot at a time, up that long hill, I begged for strength. I prayed that God would lead me the easiest path home. And I asked God to forgive me.

3. There will always be choices

Looking back on my ill-timed walk, I can see that the pain was inevitable. There were always choices, and I ignored them. The hilly nature of the land, the many subdivisions, the road construction, the powerline cutting through everything—all the choices existed before I ever got angry and started to walk.

In many other ways, whether at work, or in my spiritual walk, or my relationships with others, I see that there are always forks for me to choose.

In the letter to the Hebrews of Jerusalem, Paul wrote: Therefore, lift your drooping hands and your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed. (Hebrews 12:12-13).

I can choose to be a Christian or a criminal. I can choose to stop at a stop sign or drive right through. I can choose to purchase the things I want or shoplift them.

This is really the core of our relationship with God. As God's children, we were given the gift of free will. We can do whatever we want, without Divine interference. God may not be pleased, and may follow up with retribution of some kind, but The Lord won't stop us from making our own choices.

I've done some prison ministry, meeting people who now understand they made the choice to spend time in jail. These spiritual consequences play out in choosing our options. On my ill-timed walk, I learned that I am no longer able to go five miles without severe pain.

4. The choices won't always be obvious

Most of all, forgetting to pray causes our inability to hear God when we need guidance in choosing the right paths.

As I walked toward Redmond's park, I was not completely aware that I had choices. Some of them were obvious, yes. But others were more subtle. For instance, there are two streets and at least five driveways that cut across the powerline trail. I could have turned anywhere and gone home.

At the time, I didn't notice any of them. I can look back though, and say with certainty that The Lord told me about those escape routes, but I didn't hear—and didn't want to hear.

I'm sure you can look back and see crossroads in your own life—places where you had a choice and didn't recognize it.

5. We have the ability to change our course

Every branch in the road is another opportunity to slow down and listen as God tells me my role in the Kingdom. I alone decide whether to accept my part or walk unnecessary miles. No matter how hard I struggle, God waits patiently for me to return.

The way is quite clear: Again, Jesus spoke to them, saying "I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in the darkness but will have the light of life." (John 8:12).

God knows everything that will ever happen. Though we can't see the future, The Lord is working through us. When we choose the right path, we move one step closer to the Divine goal. When we turn down the wrong path, it delays us in our progress. But God merely waits for another opportunity to let us choose the right path.

The surest way of making the right choice is to follow Jesus. Christ walked a righteous, Godly road and explained in parables and symbols how we, too, may choose the road to Heaven.

But often our choices don't seem significant enough to require spiritual guidance. That, too, is a choice we make. Do I pay my tithe this month, or spend the money on a new sofa? We can walk the road alone or we can stop and ask directions. God may speak in a small, gentle voice—but The Lord will always be there for us. Whether big choices or little, God wants to participate, and waits patiently for us to catch up.

When the choice between good and bad is obvious, we don't hesitate to call on The Lord. But when the choice is between several options that are not, on the surface, virtuous or harmful, what is our decision based upon? And when something minor pops up, are we willing to pray for guidance?

You may ignore God two dozen times, like I did, and wind up five miles from home with very sore thighs and a big blister. Still, at the next corner God offers yet another fork in the path. And the next corner, and the next driveway after that, and the next street—until eventually we get the message.

Conclusion

There are many paths we travel as we live our lives and they all branch repeatedly. One path—the road less traveled by—leads to Christ's promise of eternal life. The other paths leads away from the Kingdom of Heaven.

However, God doesn't abandon us. God willingly lets us choose wrong turns, and waits patiently for us to eventually make a right choice. And every time we pick the right path, we move one step closer to achieving God's plan for our life.

The choice is always ours, like the song says:
There are two paths you can go by,
But in the long run,
There's always time to change the road you're on. (Plant, Page).

When we make the right choice, when we choose the right direction, we start afresh in our relationship to God. Nothing that happened before will ever matter again.

The time is now—to listen to God, to walk with Christ, to take the road less traveled by. It's our choice.

Bibliography:
Plant, Robert & Page, Jimmy. Stairway to Heaven.
Frost, Robert. The Road Not Taken.