There is the famous Robert Frost poem about two paths in the woods. It was written in jest, a joke shared between friends and never, ever meant to be taken seriously into any decision making about the future.
It was composed in a season where men (and women) were making big decisions about how to engage in the war effort. No matter how they chose to serve, many doubted that they could return to life as it once was. Everything would change.
His friend was taking this choice seriously and did not appreciate Frost poking fun at him. It was a joke that fell flat. No one else seems to be in on the joke either as I have never heard it read this way until I found this essay. I have always read this poem to mean that there are two clear choices before me. I could take either and neither is necessarily better. It is the simply the choice that I made because it felt right.
It’s that feeling that is so often unclear to us when discerning the way forward. We might be able to see all of the options before us but we don’t always know how to trust how to walk down each one of those paths.
Sometimes, as I am finding, it is not even clear what the paths are. There are so many possibilities that I fear I am missing something. I want to know all of the options and am asking God what else there could be — and there is always more with my God. God, for me, is the one with whom “nothing is impossible” and anything could be. If I trust them enough, God is more likely to take me off the path. In this season, at least for me, I am finding it’s not that I don’t trust God to off-road with my life. I’m not entirely sure though that I trust myself.
I’m working that out with God and trying to understand why I am so uncertain. I’m thinking back to all of the times that I stood in this place in the yellow wood. Each time, it feels like something just gave. My foot fell through the earth and I knew what I was supposed to do next. Rarely did it happen when I was alone. There was always someone else there that helped me to see where to find my footing again and understand where it was that God was leading me.
That doesn’t mean that this was the only path. As people of hope and faith, we complicate this discernment walk by convincing ourselves that God has a clear plan for our lives. It is “God’s will” that we are trying to discern and we believe that '“will” can only be on one of those paths. We turn ourselves inside out trying to understand what it is that God wants.
Philip Cary argues in his book Good News for Anxious Christians that this whole idea of “God’s will” doesn’t even exist. It’s not in the Bible. It’s something we have made up. Instead, he writes,
If you want to know God's will for your life, here it is: "He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" (Mic. 6:8). The will of God for your life is justice, kindness and a humble walk with [God]. Nothing more is required of you.
His advice to discern what path you should take is to turn to the Ten Commandments. Cary explains, Martin “Luther recited them every morning in his prayers to remind himself why he didn't have to believe the decrees of the pope or the rules of the monks, with their supposedly superior spirituality. Christians in our day could scarcely do better than to follow his lead, contemplating the Ten Commandments daily so as to know why they don't have to play the anxious games” of what it might mean to do the right thing.
While this practice sounds like a great thing to do to rally against the horrors of Christian nationalism in the United States, I am unconvinced that it will lead toward greater clarity on that feeling that might compel you to take the next step down that path. It takes trust to take that step. Most of us need to know that are not alone to be brave enough to risk it. It’s why Elizabeth Liebert encourages those in discernment to lean into community. We need each other to hear what matters especially if we believe that God is in this thing. And I believe God is.
God is always in the midst of our wondering about what comes next. There isn’t one thing that God wants but discernment is, as Liebert defines it in The Way of Discernment is “the process of sifting out what is of God” and what is not. She uses language of call and vocation which complicates the matter. We raise the stakes by thinking that that call is one thing when it can be a multitude of possibilities.
This is what the poet gets right. He nods to the fact that the leaves are already golden yellow and ready to fall from those spidery limbs to welcome what will come next. Change has already come. They will fall and a new cycle of change will begin. No matter what path we might take, that will not be the last time of decision. There will be another path. There will be another choice and another time to wonder what it is that we will do to seek justice, love kindness and walk humbly with our God.
Reflect on when you have stood in that yellow wood before. Maybe the leaves were not yet changing but there was a break in the trail and you knew it was time to choose. What led you to make that choice? What did you trust? Who did you turn to for wisdom? How did you know it was the right choice for now?
On a large sheet of paper, transcribe every relevant detail to the question of your discernment. Write down the surprises, delights and challenges.
Fill in the space with what you still need to know and the questions you find yourself repeating. Add the voices of wisdom and best advice you’ve received from trusted sources, as well as any inspiration you’ve found from scripture or in prayer. Be sure also to include any practical matters including finances and family.
Allow this piece of paper to live with you for days, weeks or months so that you can fill in the whole picture. Eventually, you might feel like you can circle the most important elements leading to your decision. Don’t rush to tuck this large pile of paper into a drawer once you’ve made circles.
Let it continue to inquire of you all that you need to know about this decision. Draw arrows. Make connections so that when you finally tuck fold this paper into the bin, you are clear on your discernment and know where God is leading you next.
I’m thrilled to offer the gift of a retreat to you this autumn no matter what you are discerning because I know you are doing so much and you might need some time to remember why all things things that fill your day matter. I am so grateful that you are out there and praying with me and so I’m thrilled to offer readers of Prayer Threads an exclusive discount. Use FALLCOLORS at checkout at Dandelion Marketplace.
When I was 12 years old I watched the Kennedy inauguration on TV and heard Robert Frost. I did something very naughty and lied about my age to join the BOMC so that I could get his book of poetry. I did use my babysitting money to fulfill my membership. I might not understand what Frost wanted me to understand, but there is a deep beauty to his work and that reached in and grabbed my heart.
Across maybe forty years I've written 8 "riffs" on Frost's poem. His work always resonates with me ... we share a birthday ...my mother heard him read when she was in college in the 1930's. So this is wonderful because of that, but also because of the prompt for reflection and planning.