Life’s One Big Fork in the Road

When Everything’s on Fire, Choose Love

A few months ago, the new administration’s sort-of-ish-agency sent emails to federal employees. They, the memo said, were at a fork in the road. These civil servants could either resign and get some deferred pay or do nothing and let Doge do the walking (out) for them.

Since then, I’ve had many choices to make too, deciding on everything from where to live to what to cook for dinner. Some of these crossroads have been terrible no matter what I chose. Others, like dinner options, fell back on cold cereal or party pizzas.

But whatever life conjures up, maybe all of our forks in the road are really just ways in which we can learn to love.

Last week, my nine-year-old granddaughter and I were having an afternoon together, crocheting and other fun stuff. But when I said her step-dad was coming to take her home, she frowned. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.”

A different version of me would’ve told her to put up and shut up—her only choice. But love got in my way.

Instead, I told my granddaughter that she didn’t have to like going with S-dad, but she also didn’t have to treat him unkindly. We pinkie-swore that she’d be respectful and kind.

The government employees who were unceremoniously fired no doubt feel bad about not having much of a choice. In a country of laws, we’re used to legal options. When those laws get bypassed or broken on purpose, we cry foul and that’s as it should be. The whole point of civilization is to get everybody to cross the street only when the Walk sign is on.

I used to wonder why the God of the Old Testament was so rules-focused. All those commandments practically dared the Hebrews to break them. I mean, talk about rigid, black-and-white thinking. And if you made God mad, well, watch out.

But at least laws gave folks the structure they needed to make choices. Da Rules were right there on stone tablets. The civil employees who recently got the chainsaw probably wish the rules meant as much to today’s chainsaw wielders. A bunch have turned to the Judicial branch.

The wheels of justice turn incredibly slowly, but so far judges keep upholding the law. God may take forever to dispense justice, but unlike humans, God doesn’t just hand down sentences to sinners. No, that would be too easy. Instead, God pushes Jesus to the podium. Next thing you know, the Son of God is going on about mercy, forgiveness and love.

As inconvenient as that stuff may seem, Jesus is pretty clever—He knows that every moment of every day, we’re faced with the same choice. For every big deal and every trifle, all the commandments get whittled down to two: to love or not love.

Jesus asks us to love only two things! Easy! But there’s a catch: He insists on motivating us toward heavenly love—or at least a love that doesn’t lose the rent money or land you in jail.

The choices we make at any moment can tell us about our love quotient. As long as we keep in mind Jesus’ definition—to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind and to love your neighbor as yourself—you’re home safe.

Except when you blow it, which, if you’re me, is approximately all the time.

Thankfully, God isn’t keeping score of flops. The Lord knows some people are just really hard to love. Which is what I gently told my granddaughter as we hooked our little fingers together.

Later that day, I realized that she wasn’t the only one who’d pinkie-sworn. I had, too. All the bad-mouthing I usually spew freely dried up in my mouth. I even managed to smile and wave at that neighbor I really really do not like. Because love does that to you. Makes your heart swell with compassion for irritating idiots and royal pains-in-the-patootie.

I could have lorded it over a nine-year-old while I continued to be insufferable or petty. I could’ve justified her judgment of S-dad so that I could continue to be a hypocrite. At that crossroads, I had to count the cost—both of shrugging it off and of embracing love. Gazing into her beautiful eyes, I didn’t choose love so much as love chose me.

But I didn’t choose so that I’d stay on God’s good side. God doesn’t force us to do the right thing or condemn us when we act like fools. God isn’t always on my side either, which is a bit disappointing. But God is love and love is pretty darned costly. And so worth it.

God brings us to the fork in the road a bazillion times a day. We get to look up at the signposts and decide. Will we walk on the path to self-righteousness, judgment and laws that are for thee but not me? Or can Jesus hold out the nail-scarred palms and welcome us onto the street of a community of love?

When everything’s on fire, it’s up to each of us to search our own hearts. The decisions come fast and furious, and it’s hard to stay cool and calm. But at every fork in our roads, choose love. If necessary, Pinkie-swear.