Circular Metaphors to Life 7-30-9

Ashe County, North Carolina

Tradition tells us the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, or to be very exact, a line segment. What is often missed in the fine print of our geometry lessons is the caveat of this only being true of flat surfaces. On a sphere the shortest distance between two points is an arc. What is even more true of our lives, with their often torturous terrain of valleys and occasional mountain tops, is that the often convoluted hairpin routings of our journeys are frequently the shortest pathways to spiritual growth. No wonder we ignore the fine print.

Catherine Marshall was beloved by millions for her profoundly honest and forthright descriptions of the painful detours her life path took. She suffered through confinement to bed for more than a year with a life-threatening illness. The intense suffering she experienced in a bedridden state proved fertile ground for a closer walk with her Creator. In Beyond Ourselves she describes how she came to ever increasing faith, trust, and awareness in and of God. That faith building experience proved essential for her later challenges when she faced the sudden loss of her dear husband at the premature age of 46. Her experience of God’s faithfulness during that time is well articulated in her runaway best seller book titled A Man Called Peter. Catherine Marshall’s legacy to the public domain would most likely never have happened without these deep valleys plundering her life.

I was walking up a gravel road my first night here at a mountain retreat in the Appalachian Mountains. In the dark I saw a flickering and inviting light at the center of an eleven-circuit labyrinth. Labyrinths are highly effective tools for meditating and for encouraging the emergence of spiritual insights. Unlike mazes, labyrinths do not have blind ends and one cannot make mistakes while walking through them. There is only one way in and the pilgrim takes the same pathway out. These circular walks were originally developed as a substitute for pilgrimages to the Holy Land when travel there was considered too dangerous to undertake. They were found painted on the floors of great cathedrals or in luscious gardens. Labyrinths are now often used as metaphors for one’s spiritual journey towards God, God being the light at the center and the world being outside the outer circuits. They are now usually found in the gardens of retreats and contemplative churches. One can walk the newer circuits of Grace Cathedral in San Francisco or the ancient pathways in Chartres.

The light invited me to enter. It had been my plan to defer walking this labyrinth until after I had settled my spirit for a couple of days from the rather frantic chasing around that constituted a recent seven-country tour. I entered this magnificently sited labyrinth and was most surprised at how I was suddenly very near the center. I thought there must be something wrong that I would be so close to the center so quickly. Just as I came to this thought I came to a turning and was soon working my way sideways and outward again. I transited for a long time laterally and further away from my goal of the center with its light. In life, perhaps especially when we are having a good measure of success, we can come become haughty, even cocky. The great danger is we will lose our attentiveness and miss the important turnings in life, perhaps making catastrophic relational and economic decisions. God working through life circumstances has a way of gaining our attention if we have not been giving it.

Large trees between a distant electric light and the labyrinth were casting dark shadows across the circuits. At times I had a very hard time telling if I was staying on the prescribed path. I could not tell at times if I was missing turnings or walking into ‘walls.’ It was necessary to walk very slowly and trust the process. It became very clear that walking a labyrinth in dim light at night was a very authentic replica of walking out life in the brightness of day. There are those points in life, as in the night shadows on the outer circuits, when it is exceedingly difficult to know how to proceed. It becomes necessary to stop, look, and listen, just as we did before crossing the street as children. As adults we are prone to many diverse dangers, many as significant as vehicles driven by inattentive drivers. In our spiritual lives, we are called apart to pay attention; to be still and know that He is God.

In bright daylight I can walk a labyrinth with confidence - certain I will never make a mistake, as it is not a maze. I can kick back in a well grounded confidence. But in the dark the whole experience becomes uncertain. No longer can I see the lay of the land. I can only see what is directly at my feet. John in his gospel strongly admonishes his readers to pay attention and to stay in the spotlight at their feet, lest the darkness over take them. “You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. The man who walks in the dark does not know where he is going.” Anyone who has been through the sudden darkness of depression, a layoff from a job, a catastrophic pronouncement while sitting in front of a physician’s desk, or a divorce knows that little or no fair warning is given. We are not usually given periods of preparation before the darkness falls. Or are we?

John is telling us in his gospel to plan for the darkness by taking advantage of the light while we have it and making good headway on our journeys. I saw the light and knew where I wanted to go. I also knew that light could burn down at any moment. I had no idea how much oil the Keeper had put in the lamp. From a distance I could clearly see my destination but not the dark shadows and hairpin turns that were between me and the center. We are being exhorted to enter into a journey and ‘trust the process.’ I had enough light to see the place of entry. As long as I focused on the space at my feet, stayed between the lines, and did not stray, I could with 100% confidence know I would make it to my destination, even if the shadows, at times, cast doubts in my mind.

The writer of the letters to the Corinthian church made the same exhortation. Know your destination, stay between the lines, make hay while the sun shines, don’t stray, and embrace the prize at the end. “Do you not know that in a race all of the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that does not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”

Up here on the mountain top it is easy to pay attention. All my distractions are down below. No cell phones, e-mail, TV, daily chores, jobs, relational conflicts, or other things to pull my attention away from the light. The great imperative for me is to remember my ultimate destination when I am down below, caught up in the fray. While walking a labyrinth one cannot really ‘see’ where one is going. If there were actual walls demarcating the paths, one would always be in a blind warren of curved walls. One would only see the center when one had just arrived at it. One would rarely be able to see more than a few feet. One has to trust the path. I am challenged to do as Paul told the Corinthians to do in their preparations for the race. Get serious. Look straight ahead, not looking to the right or left. To do so will guarantee me the greatest prize of all, to hear the words, “Well done good and faithful servant.”