A Fork in the Road
This week did not get off to the best start, and it was entirely my fault.
After a rather long and tiring past few days, my wife and I were looking forward to having this past Monday off. More than that, we were simply eager to spend the day together, just the two of us. We were both adamant that we should spend the day at home, perhaps only venturing out for a walk - and, my wife suggested, maybe, just maybe, for some ice cream as well.
However, as the day began to ebb by and once all of our housework was finished, I felt restless. Suddenly, staying at home all day seemed like an utter waste of such a beautiful day. “Let’s go to a coffee shop”, I suggested. “We can catch up on our reading, and then we can find a nice trail nearby and grab some ice cream as well.” And with that, we were off.
Indeed, we were off to a great start. A blue sky stretched out before us as we drove; the warmth of the sun bathed our skin, and the aroma of a summer in full-bloom danced in the wind. I was glad that we left the house, and I sensed that my wife was as well; I knew, after all, that sunshine and ice cream were two of the surest ways to her heart. But more than the fair weather and sweet expectation that lay ahead, I was simply and completely content to share in the sweetest of company with the fairest of women. As we drove through the countryside, we were enveloped in that tender sort of silence that can only be enjoyed by those who are totally at ease in one another’s company.
Upon arriving, we discovered that the line for ice cream was, well, about as long as one might expect it to be on a warm, sunny holiday. “Not a problem”, I said, “it’s worth the wait.” The day was still young, we were young, and the sun was still shining - a little waiting never hurt anyone. Only, the line did not move. I felt as though we were at Service Ontario; or, with the sun beating how it was, Service Ontario in an oven.
Tick.
Just as I was about to suggest that we step across the street and grab ice cream from McDonald’s - just as delicious, no doubt, and likely an eighth of the price - a worker stepped outside and declared that, while they still had plenty of ice cream left, someone near the front of the line was experiencing a medical issue and that was why the line was progressing so slowly. McDonald’s it was.
“Why don’t we go to that coffee shop I was telling you about?” my wife suggested. “We can come back here for ice cream after that.” McDonald’s it wasn’t.
Just as well, I thought. On a hot day such as this, what better than a nice, steamy cup of coffee? (I assure you that I am not being sarcastic; I did indeed have my wife order me a hot coffee while I stood outside the coffee shop with our dog, Sasha). But alas, I am getting ahead of myself. When we eventually made the short trek to the coffee shop my wife had suggested, it was closed.
Tick, tick.
Just as well, I thought. “There’s another coffee shop just up the road, let’s go there instead.”
It was here that I ordered that hot coffee I mentioned. From here, we made our way to a small park that was nestled alongside a lazy river, all the while firetrucks and ambulances nudged their way through the busy streets before coming to a halt at the ice cream shop.
It was only when we sat down on our picnic blanket by the river that I took notice of the sour mood beginning to overshadow my disposition. There was not one thing in particular that frustrated me; rather, it was like there were a succession of small ticks beginning to notch on my mood. First the line at the ice cream place, then the coffee shop being closed, and now the heat was beginning to weigh on me (the hot coffee, as you can imagine, did not help). However, the thing that really frustrated me was that I felt as though I had made all the wrong decisions that day - that I had led poorly. I was frustrated that the day did not go better, and I was worried that my wife was having a poor time.
“You know,” I said, “we can do this at home just as easily. Why don’t we go get our ice cream and head home?” And with that, we made our way back towards the ice cream shop. However, upon arriving for the second time, it seemed as though the line was entirely unchanged.
Just as well, I thought. The ambulances had left by this point, so I figured that, though the line was still long, it should now move smoothly. But alas, it did not. After a short time it seemed as though we moved only a matter of inches; I was certain that the grass around us had grown noticeably longer since we joined the line.
Tick, tick, tick.
—
On our way home, without ice cream, silence once again filled the car. I was frustrated. I was frustrated that the day, as beautiful as it was, did not go my way. I was frustrated that our one day together seemed forfeited and wasted because of long lines and closed coffee shops. And on top of all this, I was frustrated because of the fact that I was so clearly frustrated. Frustration had beget frustration, which only gave rise to more frustration. Before I knew it, we were home, and I realized that I had hardly spoken a word the entire time I was driving. If there was anything that had upset my wife about the day, it was my attitude then and there. Not the long lines or closed shops, but me and my attitude.
It was in this moment that I became intimately aware of a crossroads, a fork in the road as it were. I could go to Christ and ask for forgiveness for the way that I acted, and then go to my wife and ask for her forgiveness as well; or, rather than make things better, I could continue to make things bitter. Better or bitter, those were the two paths that lay at my feet. Sin and selfishness had knocked at the door, and I chose to open it - but now what?
Even though I felt ashamed of the way I acted, I went to Christ. I felt small, sullied, and stupid, but I went to Him all the same. I set aside my emotions, for they aren't God, and ran to Him who is God, and to His Word. As Robert Murray McCheyne once put it, “For every look at yourself, take ten looks at Christ.” I fell headlong upon Christ’s words,
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28-29). Indeed, He is gentle and lowly, and in Him alone do our restless souls find rest.
In confessing to Him my sin and shame and asking for forgiveness, I put my trust in His promises. The promises of Him who is omnipresent, everywhere, even in the midst of our darkness, selfishness, and sin. He is Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End, and everywhere in between, so that no matter where we might find ourselves, whether upon the mountain top or in the valley, we can be sure that He is there with us; or rather, we are there with Him.
Every time we sin, we are presented with a fork in the road. Do we run from God, or do we run to Him? Do we choose that which is bitter or that which is better? I wanted the day to go in a particular way, and when it didn’t, the selfishness in my heart spilled over. I wanted to have a great day with my wife and made a mess of it. However, in the midst of that mess, Christ was at work. I intended to bond with my wife over ice cream; the Lord had other plans. In asking for forgiveness from both Him and my wife, a better, sweeter, and deeper intimacy was kindled - indeed, the very intimacy and sweetness that I was aiming for all day on my own, but fell short of.
Jesus has told us who He is and what He is like, we would do well to take Him at His word. He is, by His own admission, “gentle and lowly” and eager to give us rest. And so, the next time you sin, stumble, and fall, as we all do, be sure to take quickly the narrow way in the fork, towards Him, for He is “the way”, the only way, “and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).
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It's worth mentioning that in the end we did have ice cream, but at home, and alas, it was freezer burnt. But it didn't matter - we were happy.
Author’s Note: In an effort to write with integrity and as unto the Lord, it is important to stress that, though these events are in fact true, I do not always recall the exact words used in specific conversations. As much as I’m able, I strive to remain faithful to the event in question, capturing the ‘intent’ of the conversation when my memory fails with respect to exact words.
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