Unlocking the Secret of the Labyrinth

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”

—Isaiah 30:21

Until last week, I had never walked a labyrinth—although the idea intrigued me for years.

When I read the July 29^th devotion in Daily Guideposts, which referenced a steel hedge labyrinth, I was once again fascinated with the idea and turned to the Labyrinth Locator to find one in my area. I was surprised to find three.

A few days later, while kayaking on the St. Mary’s River with my friend Paul, I remembered that one of the three was located just a stone’s throw away on the grounds of historic Trinity Episcopal Church.

Soon Paul and I made our way up the riverbank and onto the church property, where we landed in the memorial gardens—and discovered why it has been described as a place where “land, water and sky meet in beauty and take the breath away” (Saint Mary's Parish).

After taking pause and savoring the beauty from an inviting bench that overlooked the river, we ventured through the sacred cemetery to find the labyrinth.

I stopped a young couple along the way to inquire about its whereabouts.

The woman looked perplexed. “I don’t know,” she said, “but there’s a maze made out of rocks over there.” She pointed behind her.

“That’s it!” I said, thanking her as Paul and I set off to find it.

Just as the woman had said, the labyrinth looked like a confusing maze of lines drawn with flat rocks.

“How do we walk this?” I wondered out loud, “Where do we start? Which direction do we take?”

“Let’s start here,” Paul offered, “I’ll go one way, and you go the other.”

Trinity Episcopal Church
St. Mary's City, Maryland

Walking on the flat rocks, we soon found that no matter the direction we took, we came to a dead end. We couldn’t make our way to the large rock at the center.

“We must not be doing something right,” I said.

Sensing my frustration, Paul pointed out the wide greenway that led to the rock, “Just go this way, straight to the rock.”

Although I thought his way was cheating, I chuckled at the connotation. (When confused, go straight to Jesus, the Rock of Ages [Isaiah 26:4].)

I had certainly been confused lately—confused about challenging situations, relationships, and my own decisions and behaviors. I could use some direction.

My daily prayer time had become lopsided. It seemed I was the only one communicating, telling God all about my needs and deepest desires, and questioning Him about why He hadn’t come through for me, why He was allowing certain things to happen to me. But I didn’t hear anything in return.

The next day I felt drawn to visit another labyrinth, this time by myself.

Perhaps a change of pace is what I need. A new way to dig in deeper with God.

I pulled into the parking lot of All Saints Episcopal Church and approached a woman seated on the steps of the parish office building. I inquired about the labyrinth, and she pointed me in the right direction, then added, “The sanctuary is open too. Enjoy your visit.”

As I made my way along the concrete sidewalk, picnic lunch in hand, I had a feeling I would. With mid-80s temperature, sunny skies, and a light breeze blowing to me the familiar scent of ancient boxwoods, the day couldn’t have been more perfect for exploring.

I rounded the corner of the church and came upon a model of a labyrinth. As I ran my finger along the grooves in the pattern, I realized what Paul and I had done wrong at Trinity. We walked on top of the flat rocks when we should have walked between them. The rocks serve as a border along the path.

I continued to trace the groove with my finger and found my way to the center.

I can do this!

My eyes widened when I spied the actual labyrinth, a gigantic circuitous path, surrounded by blossoming flowers, lush plants, and several benches beneath shady trees. I scarce could take it in.

All this for me? And it’s free?

The grassy meandering pathway, clearly marked out with red brick borders, called my feet to venture forth. Without stopping to drop my lunch on a bench, I began my journey. One step. And then another and another and another—until the pathway turned. Being careful to stay between the red bricks while keeping my balance, I maneuvered the turn. Then I continued to step carefully, deliberately, so as not to get off track, whether I turned to the right or to the left.

 

All Saints Episcopal Church, Sunderland, Maryland

As I journeyed through the labyrinth, the soothing voices of birds drowned out the din of intersecting traffic only yards away. And I don’t know how many twists and turns I made, but I do know that I felt driven to continue—driven by a strong inner voice, a trusting presence that felt like home, a Spirit that intersected with mine. Energy surged, and I knew I couldn’t stop. I turned this direction and that direction, completing four quadrants of the circle until I made it all the way to the center—exactly where I needed to be. Raising my arms and lifting my glistening eyes to the heavens, I burst forth into audible praise to the One, who is the center of me.

Moments later, I settled on a bench and thought about my attempt to walk the labyrinth the previous day and how Paul and I walked on top of the flat rocks meant to serve as borders. I wondered how many times in life I had tried to walk on top of God’s borders. How many times had I tried to climb the wall to peek over to the other side or rush ahead, like an anxious child, to get around the next turn before it was time? Didn’t it always lead me to a dead end? Maybe His boundaries are there for a reason, for my protection and guidance to keep me on the path that He has laid out for me.

I opened my lunch and thought about the bustling traffic beyond the garden grounds, so many people going in different directions, each one with his own agenda. I wondered, Do they know where God wants them to go? Can they even hear His direction above the chaos and the noise? Do they know He cares for them as much as He cares for the singing birds and the blossoming flowers?

As for me, in that moment, I knew. And I heard.

Later that evening, I bubbled with excitement as I shared with Paul my experience, but I could tell that he wasn’t himself. He explained that he was feeling dizzy and nauseous. As it turned out, Paul had a case of labyrinthitis (no joke!), also known as vestibular neuritis, an inflammation of the inner ear, resulting in vertigo and also possible hearing loss.

I had heard of vertigo but not the term labyrinthitis. I had to check it out. What I discovered is that the spiral internal ear is called the labyrinth, consisting of both the bony portion and the membranous portion. And it resembles a labyrinth for walking!

I thought it was an interesting connection, these two meanings for the term labyrinth—a part of the ear and an intricate path or maze. Then I thought of the third meaning for the term labyrinth: any confusingly intricate state of things or events; a bewildering complex (Dictionary.com).

I had been confused by the state of things in my life. I asked God for some answers, but didn’t hear anything in return. Perhaps my life had become so chaotic and noisy that I couldn’t hear—perhaps I had a case of labyrinthitis, throwing me off balance. But when I got serious enough to schedule a picnic lunch date with God, He met me in that garden and walked me through the labyrinth, clearing my ears of all the inflammation so I could hear His voice.

There wasn’t anything magical about the labyrinth itself, and there isn’t any secret to walking one. Some folks walk for meditation, while others walk for fun. But there was something magical about that moment. It began when I was intentional about spending time alone with God that day, when I ventured forth with expectation on a private pilgrimage. The labyrinth was just the vehicle that God used to unlock my deaf ears and speak to me about the reality it metaphorically represented.

If you would like to learn more about the history and types of labyrinths, you can certainly surf the web. But if you’d like to learn more about yourself and your path in life, meet God in the vestibule, picnic lunch in hand. Take the first step. Be intentional. And you will surely hear a voice behind you saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”

And that is the way to walk the labyrinth of life.

Dear God, thank You for all the varied ways you speak to me. Help me to listen more and talk less. Remind me to keep You at the center, so I can keep my balance while maneuvering through this labyrinth of life. Help me to stay on the path you have laid out for me and not run ahead but to wait with expectation for all that you have for me right around the next turn. Amen.