The Straight Path

Ten to fifteen years ago the Department of Transportation decided that it would be fun to give everyone in my zip code something to complain about and replaced most of our major intersections with roundabouts.

This wouldn’t be so irksome, I suppose, if I understood how to navigate a roundabout. In theory I do, I’ve read all the rules and I've watched those cute little YouTube videos where they show you which car is supposed to go at what time. But theory and practice are rather different. And the bottom line is, I never approach a roundabout without taking a deep, anxious breath and tightening my grip on the steering wheel, not entirely sure what my next move should be.

I think of roundabouts every time I hear today’s Gospel reading, where John the Baptist echoes Isaiah in beseeching us to make straight the paths of the Lord. See, I always think I’ve made a straight path between me and God. I go to Mass. I go to Confession. I say my prayers.

He can get to me if He wants, I tell myself.

But without realizing it, I put up roundabouts. I make rules. You go here, God, and then I go here. I’ll do this, God, but first You do this. You stay in your lane, and I stay in mine. Eventually I find myself taking a different route altogether; the road that stretches between me and Him is too daunting. I start avoiding it.

Sometimes I think God wants the path to be straight not for Himself but for us. He can handle a roundabout. But He knows that when we must run to Him, we have to do it without thinking. In the dark. In fear, in anxiety.

So, this Advent, beware the roundabouts. Make straight the path.

©LPi