Road-Makers
‘* Make straight paths for your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way.’ — HEs. xii. 13.
Is there anything more wonderful than a well-made road, especially a road which hesitates at no eminence, but lays bonds upon it, and opens commerce and communion between distant places! I remember one such wonderful road climbing with a sort of easy laughter over the Maritime Alps. I
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250 Road-makers
remember another road which begins on the Dalmatian coast and subdues the fierce mountains which rise between the coast and Montenegro. But we need not go far away for wonderful roads. A noble road crossing some broad British moor is extraordinarily impressive; it stretches away like a narrowing piece of white ribbon and is lost on the horizon, where it suggests the unknown and the infinite. Horace Bushnell had a fascinating interest in roads. It would probably be true to say that next to his passion for theology it was his dominant passion. And he connected the two in his thought, and the one ministered to the other in the service of interpretation. He was always planning how roads should be made between this place and that place, or through a new piece of territory with which he had become acquainted. But he was something better than all this. He was a noble road-maker in thought and life. He was a pioneer in bold, firm, venturous thinking, and in any fearless way of living which his thought demanded. Any disciple of Bushnell knows what a great road-maker he was over perplexing and difficult ground.
But we are all road-makers. There may be no aim and purpose in it, and we may be unconscious of our work. Nevertheless, we are making roads. We cannot help it. Every step we take is the making of a track, even if it be only like an uncertain trail through a forest. But everybody goes the same way many times; acts become habits, and what was once a thin trail becomes a broad and open road. Yes, we are busy road-making; every day and every hour we are at the work. What kinds of roads are we making? Is there anything impressive and majestic about them? Do they suggest dignity and strength? Are they straight or crooked? Can we describe them as fearless roads, going right ahead? Or are they wriggling and deceptive roads, stopping dead at the hill, or slinking away I know not where? Are we making rough roads, full of loose sharp flints, or smooth roads, where the stones have been gathered
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and every thorn removed? What sort of roads are we making?
Why ask the question? Because somebody is following on, and will use our roads. And perhaps the one following on is lame, or only a poor walker, and the character of the road is of infinite concern. Lame, I say. Perhaps lame in will and purpose! Or lame in desire and self-control! Or lame in affection! And the lame one is perhaps your own son, and he is coming down your road! What about it? Is it all right? Is it safe for the son and the family? Is is safe for anybody and everybody else? Will they stumble on your road? Will they get astray? Will they be pilgrims of the night, or pilgrims of the light? Do the roads lead into the darkness, or into the dawn? “Make straight paths for your feet;”? somebody is just behind. Make them scrupulously straight, and put your best into them, “lest that which is lame be dislocated.”
I was once walking with a good American through one of the streets of New York, which was in a terrible state of disrepair. “How is it?” I asked. And my friend replied: ‘‘ The stuff that ought to be in that road is in the contractor’s pocket.” The corruption in character had worked itself out into the street. And so it is; the roads we make are no better than ourselves.