TWO ROADS

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth”

These opening lines in Robert Frost’s poem, Road Less Traveled, remind us that this journey we call life involves a series of sometimes simple, sometimes complicated decisions. Even those who are adept at multitasking discover that someone or something usually ends up getting shortchanged if we try to do more than one thing at a time:
Driving while eating breakfast;
Listening to a friend while thinking about our response;
Talking to a loved one while reading the newspaper

Our relationships, careers and health are shaped by the decisions we make. That includes
our relationship with God. Just as we are free to choose a relationship with God, God is
faced with choices as well:
To journey alone or to invite us on an adventure;
To forsake us when the going gets rough or to stand by us in good times and bad;
To become closed and self-protective when we hurt Him or to remain open and vulnerable to us.

Being vulnerable to another means that at any point they can say “no” to us. And some people say “no” to God in a loud, unmistakable way. Others remain undecided - they simply don’t feel ready or able to join God on the road less traveled. But most of us have decided that God is worth taking a chance on –
We have accepted God’s invitation to journey through life together.
We hope to stick with God through thick and thin.
In other words, we make ourselves vulnerable to God.

Sometimes the road we travel with God and one another is easy and the journey is surprisingly delightful; at other times the road is rocky and the journey is unrelentingly painful. Sometimes we skip ahead of God; sometimes we lag behind, but I suppose that none of us wants to stray too far from God. And, if we do, it’s never too late to repent, to turn away from what is not of God, and to return, to return to God’s way – the path that leads to life.

Lent offers us a wonderful opportunity to assess where we are on our journey and to consider the ways in which we may have intentionally or inadvertently strayed from God’s path. In today’s gospel, Jesus reminds us that straying begins in the heart. It is possible to outwardly engage in disciplines designed to draw us closer to God – prayer, fasting, acts of charity – for the wrong reasons. But the remedy isn’t simply to avoid letting others know what spiritual disciplines we have adopted for Lent. After all, with the hope of impressing those around us, we can let it slip that we are going to our room, shutting the door and praying to our Father in secret. It’s the motivation behind the action that makes the difference. One is focused on building our relationship with God; the other is focused on gaining the admiration of others. It’s hard to build a meaningful relationship with one person if our eyes keep glancing at another.

But as retreat leader Emilie Griffin reminds us, “Lent is our chance for a fresh start . . . We consciously let down our defenses against the grace of God. We admit to ourselves our need for improvement. We notice how hopeless we are. We tell God we're doing our best but we wish we could do better. We put ourselves in God's hands.”

It is in the security of God’s hands, knowing that we are deeply loved, that we can dare to ask ourselves:
Are there choices I make that keep God at a distance?
Which road have I chosen?
Are there areas in our lives in which a U-turn is in order?

Some of us need to turn away from the path of resentment and bitterness and turn towards the path of forgiveness and mercy.
Others need to leave the path of self-pity and take the path of compassion for self.
Still others need to flee from the path of self-righteousness and judgment and enter the path of grace and love.

Most of us are aware that, if we choose the path that God calls us to travel, it will not be very crowded. The road less traveled never is. So, more likely than not, while we have one another, we won’t have many other people cheering us on. Although the Lenten journey can be a lonely one, we can be assured that there is One who has walked this road before. And he is the One to whom we can turn for strength, guidance and comfort. As the author of the letter to the Hebrews reminds us, “we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

A couple of weeks ago, I attended the burial service for a remarkable woman who happened to be the secretary of our former parish in MD. Debra’s daughter and granddaughter, along with a host of clergy, parishioners, friends and relatives paid tribute to her, wept over her death, and chuckled over warm memories they’d made with her. One thing was clear to all of us – her deep, abiding faith in Jesus –

Even when cancer was eating away at her body, she remained focused on Jesus.
Even in her own Gethsemane experience, she knew that she was not alone.
Even in her last hours on earth, with friends and relatives by her side, she knew that the One to whom she was going was the One from whom she had come.

So it is with us. The One from whom we have come is the One to whom we will go. And, while we are on this earthly journey, He is also the One who is with us. So, however we decide to use the gift of this Lenten season, when we reach the end of our journey, perhaps we too can say:

”Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference.”