Ever walked a labyrinth? Though I had read plenty on the matter and have even had informed conversations concerning these not-a-mazes, never had I experienced one.
Daily prayer has been interesting here at New Kirk this week.
Alison leads mornings; Larry and I alternate midday. A few folks have come to pray, but I've learned that people aren't the point: God is! That's the funny thing to me about Lent as a church leader. No matter how much my mind wants to program, plot, plan, and perceive, God, I'm learning, calls me! Lent is about my own way with God amid the way we walk together as church (as Christ's body with Christ).
So, alone on Tuesday, I decided to walk the labyrinth. To the little table I went, writing down my weighty "stuff" to carry to the cross. (See, I already had it mapped out in my mind. No need for God to show, right?) I was there when Chris, Elizabeth, and the youth created this thing. I saw the tape go down on the floor. I helped move the cross to the center. There's nothing magical here, except maybe Chris' engineering skills.
At first, I'm moving along the path; but, it doesn't seem right. It's not going where it's supposed to go. Trust is the name of this game, though, so I just take the next step. Along the way, from time to time, I'd look up towards the door to see if anyone was peeking or if I needed to address someone's presence. Oops! I stepped on the line. Alright, got my balance. Next-step time. With these 90 degree turns, movement has to be a bit slow and in awareness. I'm close to the cross; I'm far from the cross; what's going on with this path? Next thing I know, I'm at the center. The Basket of Torn Prayers bids me, so I tear and drop my weighty writing. Well, if the second half is anything like the first, then I know it'll be crazy but sure. I keep taking the next step. This time is different, though. Each step seems promised. I'm no longer carrying the weight of worry but, rather, trusting the path to take me.
It does, and I exit. I'm bothered a bit, however. Did I miss the cross? I was so focused on ridding the weight. I never really took notice. Yet, the cross was always there--centered. The cross swept in and out of my periphery--drawing me at times, repelling at others.
Cooley engineered tape on the floor and a wobbly cross? Sure. But, how is it that this labyrinth taught me true prayer and what I am to do in my walk with God?