Fall is approaching in New England. Already, in August, color is appearing in some trees. Soon a walk in the woods will reveal breathtaking, colorful panoramas around every curve in the road. Inevitably, you’ll reach a fork.You’ll wish you could travel both inviting roads, but a choice must be made. Robert Frost[1] described such a scene in his 1916 poem, “The Road Not Taken.” He began:
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 …[2]
Life and ministry are like that. Choices abound and decisions must be made. Haggai describes such a situation. Governor Zerubbabel, Joshua the high priest, and the Jerusalem citizens faced a life-changing choice in December 520 BC. Haggai had delivered his first of four sermons. He called for a decision that could no longer be postponed. Would they adjust their lives to follow God’s command, or would they continue following their own path? Two, and only two, options were available: obedience or disobedience.
Mother’s Day 1998 was such a day for Cindy and me. I had been to New England on two preaching trips, and the Father was working in our hearts. We had been asked to move to New Hampshire three different times, but we said, “No,” each time. We loved serving the Lord in Deerfield, VA, and wanted to stay.
To this day, we consider Deerfield among the most joyous ministry times in our lives. We love Deerfield Baptist Church. They love us. We love the Deerfield community. The Lord blessed the church as we ministered together. I was content to live, serve, and die there.
Yet, the fork in life’s road was before me. I tried to ignore it for a couple of months. I tried to not think about it. One day, the battle within became intense. I thought, “IF … I had to resign as pastor of Deerfield Baptist Church, what would I say?” I wrote a resignation letter, printed it, and put it in my Bible. I hoped it was a test, and only a test, to see if I was willing. Now that the letter was written, maybe the Lord would allow me to stay in Deerfield. Unlike Isaiah, I said, “Here am I, Lord. Send someone else.”[3]
A couple weeks went by. It was Mother’s Day, 1998, a typical Mother’s Day in Virginia. When we left the parsonage, I was comfortable. No danger of resigning that morning! What a relief; it just isn’t done. Cindy knew the letter was in my Bible, but we had made no decision. After a great Sunday School hour, the service began. The church house was full. My sermon was on honoring our mothers. Toward the conclusion of the message, I shared the Gospel and invited the audience to turn to Jesus for salvation. As was our custom, I offered an invitation for people to come to the front of the sanctuary, kneel and pray, or talk with me about their spiritual need.
The invitation music began, and God gave me an invitation. He made it clear that He was calling us to leave our beloved Deerfield and serve Him in New England. The Holy Spirit’s conviction was strong, and I was getting uncomfortable. I asked, “Lord, do we have to go? Can’t we stay?”
In an instant, I saw the fork in the road. It was no longer in the distance. I was in the middle of the road and had to take one path or the other. My decision couldn’t be postponed.
God did not speak to me audibly. It was louder than that, and as clear as anything I’ve ever heard. His still small voice answered, “No, Mark, you don’t have to go. You can stay in Deerfield, have an effective ministry for the rest of your life, but you’ll miss out on the next Great Awakening. And you’ll miss out on what I created you to do.”
I asked the people to sit, and I did what isn’t done on Mother’s Day. With trembling hands, a lump in my throat, and tears in my eyes, I read my resignation letter. A little over nineteen years have passed. The Father has done amazing things. We’ve seen churches planted, dozens saved and baptized, and Northeast Baptist College founded—and we’re still praying for and expecting another Great Awakening.
A couple weeks ago, the Father brought us to another fork in the road. One path led to purchasing a new campus for NEBC, preparing it to house dorm space, classrooms, and offices, and propel the College to a new level of financial stability. That road requires us to step out in faith, launching our Forming the Framework for the Future campaign. It requires raising $5,000,000 by 31 December 2017.
The other road is more comfortable and not nearly as steep. We could stay the course and not bother you, the donors and prayer warriors, with such a huge challenge. We could avoid the hard work and an enormous potential embarrassment. I could sign or not sign the agreement, but I knew signing was the path the Father called us to take. I thought of Haggai 1:12: “Then Zerubbabel … and Joshua … with all the remnant of the people, obeyed the voice of the LORD their God.” We stepped forward onto the path to Victory.
Maybe today, God has led you to a fork in your road. Is He calling you to a specific task or a specific faith response? Are the paths of obedience and disobedience before you? Does His path include your involvement in His work through NEBC? Whatever path He leads you to take, obey. Robert Frost concluded:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
With Great Anticipation,
Mark H. Ballard
[1] Robert Frost is buried in Bennington. Come and visit. Lots to see. Fall is magnificent!
[2] Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken,” https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken; (accessed 26 August 2017).
[3] Compare Isa. 6:8.