the road taken/how much more

there is a man. who? imagine somebody you know, an acquaintance, a man who seems rather pleasant to you, but you do not know him very well. perhaps you only know his name and remember his smile. pretend that the man in this story is the man you just imagined. ok. let's try this again.

there is a man. he is walking along a road. it's a road for walking, not a road for driving. if you need to, call it a path. call it a trail. it's a route for pedestrians. bear with me.

he's walking. suddenly he trips. he falls to the ground, catching himself with his hands. he cries out in pain. he is surprised. you, too, are surprised that he fell. he doesn't look to see why he fell, but he vaguely knows that there was pain. as he gets up, he looks around to see if there is anybody around who caused him this pain. there is no one. no, not even you. there might be a background. maybe a tree. where is he? this is just a metaphor. don't worry about it.

and so, he's walking. actually, he walks here often. some time passes. it might be a few minutes. it might be a few days. the man is again walking where he tripped and fell. this time, too, he trips and falls. yea, again. he cries out in pain, but manages to catch himself. again, he merely looks around for the culprit before walking off. again, there is nobody around. you think he's foolish? we'll see. we shall see.

some more time passes. the man is walking again. he trips. he falls. he catches himself. he cries out. he looks around. he sees nobody. he walks off. some more time passes. the man is walking again. you get the idea. but now, imagine that the man is doing things between his seemingly random visits to pain. maybe he's visiting somebody. maybe he is going into town. maybe he has responsibilities to attend to. maybe he has a job, a home, a family. maybe people care about him. maybe he cares about people. maybe he's important. maybe he's not. this man that we know, there is something behind that face and behind that smile; there is something behind that firm handshake and greeting.

some more time passes. the man is walking again. he trips. he falls. he catches himself. he cries out. he looks around. he sees nobody. but this time, he stops to wonder about the pain? it must have come from somebody. but nobody is here. maybe it didn't come from somebody. but then where did it come from? maybe the pain came from my surroundings. maybe. he walks off. some more time passes. the next time the man trips, he looks around, sees nobody and walks off.

this goes on for some time. every now and then, the man stops for a bit longer; the man thinks a bit harder. yet each time, the man still trips and falls and suffers. perhaps you wonder why this man is worth watching. perhaps you wonder what more there is to this man than repeatedly making the same unknowing mistake. perhaps you forget that he might or might not be important. perhaps you forget that he might care about people, or that people might care about him. perhaps you forget that he might have a family, a home, a job. perhaps you don't consider that this man was born. perhaps you don't consider that this man might have had parents, might have had a childhood, might have had friends. perhaps it doesn't occur to you that this man grew from some background with some circumstances to some future. perhaps you don't realize that this man might have somewhere to go, might have people to meet, might have a family to grow, might one day be lonely, trusting, fearful, joyful, anguished, satisfied, despairing, hopeful. perhaps you don't understand that this man is a human being. perhaps you don't know that this man is you.

perhaps you do.

some more time passes. the man is walking again. he trips. he falls. he catches himself. he cries out. he looks around. he looks at his foot. he sees that his shoe is untied. he ties his shoe. he walks off. he thinks nothing of all the times he fell. he doesn't remember the many times he cried out. he doesn't realize that this is the first time he did anything more than simply looking around. he is merely pleased with himself for having thought to look at his foot.

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if we grew tired of the man in this metaphor, how much more patience than us does God have?