The Road Not Taken

I had to memorize this poem during my freshman year of high school. I only remember the first and last six words.

The Road Not Taken

By Robert Frost

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;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. 

This poem is undoubtedly brilliant and famous, written by one of the greatest poets of all time who forever changed the world of poetry and literature. I'm not going to attempt to analyze it but only apply it to events in my own life, which is one of the great uses of poetry. Poetry unifies the human experience, reveals unseen details about it, and ultimately attempts to understand the world in a unique way by shedding new light upon seemingly everyday occurrences.

Like almost every argument, life view, or idea ever conceived in history, this poem can be viewed in two opposite ways. The road less taken that is grassy and used by very few, if any, can be viewed as a metaphor for countless things, depending on the reader. Also depending on the context, it could represent any way of life that diverges from the norm, any idea that differs from the majority's opinion, or even the smallest change in an individual's life. This is one of the reasons why this poem is so brilliant. The scope can be as large or as miniscule as the reader desires, but no matter who big or small, two choices still remain. The left or the right. The known or the unknown. The methodical or the uncertain.

In my life there are always two choices: what I want and what God wants. These two frenemies sometimes find a way to step in tandem, but they more often than not are constantly clashing, pulling, and scraping at each other like infantile siblings. I can usually keep down their unpleasant chatter by constantly reminding myself of what God has brought me through to get me to where I am today. Through a never ending routine of self-reminding, Bible reading, and sought after encouragement, I've been able to ward off that tiny voice that sits in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to ask, "Could I do this better all by myself?" Sure, I've had little "God vacations" like we all do every now and then, but none of them have been as significant or enlightening as my latest escapade. God took me to France to teach me a few things. It was easy to forget Him there. I had no access to a church, and I was completely overwhelmed with the new culture, new people, new experiences. It took immense effort to stay in the Word and not only on the same page as God, but even in the same chapter. I did not put forth this effort. I forgot Him.

For about a month, I traveled the easy road, laden with the steps of the many, the worldly, and those that live according to the flesh. I allowed myself to be swept to a place where I blatantly denied my faith, did things that I knew were very wrong, and I did not care. I convinced myself that as long as I could see the other path through the trees as I stayed on the grassless one, everything would be fine. As long as I had an exit strategy, a way to get back on the other path when I wanted to, all would be well. I made God my backup plan, there to catch me when I knew this path would fall through. It was the very definition of taking His mercy and grace for granted. It was the first time that I actually doubted the existence of my Savior. It was the first time that I wanted to forget Him. It was one of the greatest learning experiences I've ever had.

For me, life without God consists of me trying to manage my life by my own strength. I try to deal with stress in the way I think is fit. It never works. I was eventually crushed under the weight of sin, worry, and the fact that I knew that what I wanted would just hurt me. It was quite a crushing, but as always, God was there to gently lift the weight and tuck it away where only He could find it. He was always there, protecting me, letting me get close enough to the fire to feel the entrancing heat and get burnt but not completely scorched. He guarded me against so many huge and detrimental mistakes I could have made. For this I am forever thankful. Every day He reminds me that the act of coming back is greater than the leaving. He is faithful even when we forget Him. Even when we turn our backs, He guides us. There is no human that we can depend on to do this for us.

Being on the other side of all of this, there are many things to work through. I regret the things I've done, my stupidity, and the fact that I very much knew better. But if that's what it took for me to draw closer to the Lord, then I can be okay with it. Though painful, failure is in fact the best teacher, and He took me back. He always takes us back, despite how we feel about it. This is the root of His love. This is His character.

Frost's poem cannot help but remind me of Matthew 7:13-14:

“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."

The path the world takes is beat to only dirt, wide, and infinitely easy to choose. The road less traveled is adversely smaller, grassier, and less certain. One leads to life, and one leads to destruction. Every day we choose.

Within full knowledge of all of this, the wide path still is attractive, and it always will be. This is what it is to be human. We can simply try to live well each day in acceptance of but never in submission to our humanity. In short, friends, we must take the road not taken.