Miles to Go

I think most of us are familiar with Robert Frost’s poem Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening which concludes with the phrase, “But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep”. I have found my mind running over this couplet in the past few months, identifying with Frost’s scene of a traveler, alone, captivated by the quietude of the midnight forest, taking a brief respite from the journey and expectations he has undertaken. I like to think the traveler is heading home, trying to meet the deadline set by his loved ones so that they know he is safe and well.

Along with that picture, I am going to borrow a phrase my current elders like to use. They often say of our responsibilities to our fellow believers, that, “We are helping each other make it safely home.” In contrast to Frost’s traveler, we as believers are not sojourning alone on our stormy midnight road. We are walking in the footsteps of those saints who have gone before us, the cloud of witnesses in Hebrews 11. We are walking in lockstep with those around us, the familiar faces we see each Sunday. And (perhaps more sobering) someday we may look back to find others treading in our same paths.

Both the poem and the phrase put me in mind of the passage in 1 Thessalonians 5:14.

And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all.

The fainthearted mentioned above has occasionally been translated as “small souled”, and as I was contemplating the Lord this week, I found myself looking into the mirror at that small souled individual. Often, as exhorted by the Apostle in the passage, we apply the passage and identify as though we are the encourager, the admonisher, the helper. However, what do we do when we look at the miles ahead of us, the promises we have yet to keep, and think, “My soul is too small to journey to the end.”

It is perhaps, vastly more comfortable to place ourselves in the stronger role among our fellow travelers on the way to eternity, thinking we are going to be the one to prop up the stumbler, or carry the faltering. I cannot find much comfort in that application these days. I find myself uttering the sentence, “I’m just so tired” multiple times per week, thinking about the decades that could perhaps be ahead of me with something akin to trembling.

In Matthew 12 Jesus quotes the prophecy Isaiah had made about him, found in Isaiah 42.

Behold my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my Spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. He will not grow faint or be discouraged till he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his law.

I have no idea where you may be in your journey through the dark and snowy woods, but this passage brings me such comfort as I continue to walk, knowing that my weariness is eclipsed by the promise of one who shall not grow faint. From one faintly burning wick to another, I ask you not to linger too long when the road ahead, however long, dark, and cold, will end in justice. Whatever obligations, promises, and obedience we may carry ourselves, we are also the beneficiaries of a much more reliable guarantor.