Two Paths Diverged on a Retreat

In his homily today, the priest and St. Anne's in Houston talked about making the decision to continue with the seminary rather than quit to be with the woman he had fallen in love with.  He talked about the struggle leading up to it.  

How one day he would be with the priests he was living with or his fellow recruits and think "This, this could be my life" and wonder if that was the call; then he would be with Jane (name he gave but presumably an alias) holding her hand and feel like this was right and must be God's plan.

Or he would think about living with a bunch of old men (his phrase) or imagine having some kind of fight with Jane or feel dissatisfied with whatever new life's work he found.  And he would be afraid of the decision more and more.

The resolution of the story was his realization that God loved him no matter his choice and, in fact, he felt the answer to his prayer was that God trusted him to make the choice.  "The Lord of the Universe trusted me to choose for myself.  He would love me either way.  At first I felt great joy.  And then I felt frustration."

That's actually when he talked about the different ways his life choices could go wrong.

I wonder if that's part of the hostility of Nazareth and whatever down Ezekiel is headed to.  Even the kindest answers from God tend to put the onus back on us for action at the end of them.

And while we call out constantly for signs, for clear directions, for explicit instructions, do we really want them?  Do we want to make our own decisions or not?  Is that empowering or terrifying?  Is the other worse?  Would God telling us what we should do feel like relief and joy or like a trap?  We'd know we had made the right choice, but we wouldn't be the ones who made it really.

I think even visionary saints were given choices to make with only a bit more advice, at least for a couple big things each.

Are we scared when the prophet rolls into town because of his answers?  Or because he might tell us to choose?

And maybe it is harder to give a kid you watched grow up the power to change your life by telling you what God's plan for you is.

Maybe it's easier not to know.  Maybe we're luckier, to believe that God is leaving the choice to us.

Jane is happy, apparently, he knows through intermediaries.  Though they haven't talked since their breakup.  Maybe that's what's so hard about hometowns and Peter's mother-in-law (and wife?) and James and John's annoyed parents and all the ordinary people.  You chose the divine over them, even though they would have made you happy.  It'd be cruel to visit all the time, for them and you.