That faith is a journey is approaching the level of cliche, or perhaps it's just obvious. It is a theme that runs throughout the New Testament. Because it is inherent in man's nature to believe in something, we are all more or less on a road heading somewhere, but we are not necessarily on the same road. I have found the road that is as old as time, but 2000 years ago was marked by the signpost of the cross. The road itself is no mystery, although we encounter many mysteries along the way.
I have a peculiar psychological aversion to popularity and fads. This aversion alone will often cause me to reject watching certain programs or participating in certain activities, whether or not I might actually enjoy the item in question otherwise. The allusion of my title, of course, is to Frost's poem "The road less traveled," which would fit my nature quite aptly, and which accurately portrays the road I was formerly on, making up my Christian faith as a unique expression of myself and my interpretations of our Holy Scriptures as I went along. There is no road less traveled than one you have cleared yourself, even should it run parallel at points to more popular roads.
So, the title of this blog is a reminder to me that my faith is something other than my nature. Because it is as old as time, the path is well trodden by the myriad of patriarchs, apostles, and saints–recognized or not–despite its narrowness. I came to the road by another well-traveled path, that of the convert. It is a quiet comfort to me that all that I have experienced has already been felt by the likes of Augustine, Newman, Chesterton and more, who have left witness of their journey to my benefit. As I move forward, I examine my path to be sure I remain on the road well traveled. It is marked by that beacon of light–the Church.
