Children of the Corn 'Maze'

I know - I say I put together complicated puzzles for a living.  However, I have a confession - normally I try to avoid any sort of a maze, anything that leads to confusion and despair. They might be great for rats, but not for people.  Yet, this is precisely where people seem to migrate this time of year: in a maze, a labyrinth, (a puzzle), conundrum, befuddlement.  I am not sure why but every time a pass a new "fadish" corn maze I think of the first scary movie I ever watched was Stephen King's Children of the Corn.  I don't think it won a Oscar.  I am still creeped out by the crucifix made of twisted corn with INRI written on it.  Remember the demonic cult that worshipped "he who walks behind the rows?"  Me?  I'm not going into a corn maze. I passed one maze that is billed as "The Corn of Evil."   NOT going there.

Today, mazes are hot. Labyrinths, created on ancient patterns dating back 6,000 years, are all over the country. They've been mowed and shaped in fields, painted on parking lots, laid out in back yards, and installed in church foyers and cathedral naves.  Ready for this? A-maze-ing, no? (You saw that coming right? Really bad joke!)

Floor of Chartres Labyrinth

Many of them are based on the famous pattern of the Chartres Cathedral labyrinth in France, still visible today. Those who walk the labyrinths testify that the experience evokes healing and self-knowledge, serenity and anxiety reduction. A friend recently told me that if I were to walk a maze with the right frame of mind (?), I would be a different person when I came out of it. (Now - of that I am sure).  That is - if I came out of it.  Knowing me I would get frustrated, turned around, lost, and have a nervous breakdown instead of achieving spiritual nirvana. Or some corn child would jump out from behind a stalk with a chainsaw. Nevertheless - I was told that I'd be less likely to yell at someone who cuts me off in traffic; maybe I'd be a little more patient and willing to listen to the voice inside me. Mmm.  Not so sure.

All this from walking circles in a parking lot? Or wandering through corn?  Sounds far-fetched, doesn't it? I been forced to DRIVE circles in parking lots, scavenging for spaces, and there's rarely any stress reduction in that exercise! But the labyrinth-lover encouraged me to give the coil a chance.
Here's the drill: I start at the sole opening of the maze and wind my way around the circles. At the center (if I make it there), I stop to read, think or pray;  I am told that sometimes people who are grieving leave an object there (I might just leave myself there as I will probably be grieving my inability to get out).  Then I am supposed to follow the same path out.
Suppose it's a good metaphor for my life.  I get really frustrated because I can't see where I'm going, and I have to trust that the path will take me to the center and then actually remember where I have been.  Life can certainly feel like a labyrinth -- with tortuous turns and stupefying setbacks -- so maybe some direction CAN be found in a meditative maze.  If I follow the labyrinth to the center, the process may seem murky and muddy, unreasonable and inconvenient.

But it is a process, the journey in which the fullness of life is found. Following the path to spiritual wholeness requires humility, the kind of humility that is finally willing to obey (That's the really tough part for me.)  It  still sounds a little too"zen-like" for me.

Funny is always close to true

Alas - obedience is the key. Obedience to the will of a Lord who says, "Walk by faith, not by sight." Obedience along the lines of pious pilgrims in the Chartres Cathedral who move through a maze to get to Christ at the core, following paths that expose them to stained-glass windows and creative carvings full of stories of the faith.

Obedience along the lines of modern labyrinth-lovers who find that their disciplined walk gives them a chance to cry -- to open themselves to feelings of hurt, sadness, grief, disappointment, betrayal, pain or fear, and to bring these deep and honest feelings to the Lord, who coaxes them always toward completeness.

I once assumed that life was or should be a straight-line experience leading to happiness and wholeness. Hello! Life is seldom a straight-line experience, but rather is filled with innumerable conundrums through which I can find a center -- a center which is always located in the will of God.

As in all acts of commitment to God, once is not enough. A single trip in the labyrinth is never enough for authority-resistant creatures - remember Naaman?  Seven plunges were required -- or Peter? 70 times seven. I have found that only multiple immersions can drown my obsession with precedent and practicality, and overcome my obstreperous (noisy & difficult to control) resistance to the guidance of our God. Spiritual wholeness requires a daily deep dip in the healing waters of obedience, even when the river is muddy and the path of the quickly flowing maze is completely perplexing. When I take this faithful leap, I discover that the water is healing and the wandering itself is revealing -- the twists and turns of the labyrinthine experience actually lead to clarity, not confusion. It's a strange little story, isn't it? But so true to life in the labyrinth. Sometimes my healing takes a path I do not expect, or it seems incomplete at first. I have to hang in there and let Jesus continue working with me.
Fullness of life in the center of a muddy labyrinth?  Only by walking faithfully can I commit myself completely to the will of God, and wind my way toward a spiritual wholeness that wraps together spirit, body, mind, conscience, emotions and reason. It is in deep, daily dips in the waters of obedience that I experience the healing that our Lord provides, healing that continues through all life's twists and turns. Truth?  I'm becoming myself in the making. The right path, you might say, is as clear as mud.  That's why I'm sticking to a quiet time in my favorite chair & leaving the maze to the children of the corn or the rats.

"Learing"

I call it "Learing." Mrs. Huckabee started it.  She made us read King Lear in High School English class.  It is a story about a vain old man who loses everything, including his devoted daughter.  The King goes crazy after foolishly liquidating his fortune between two of his three daughters based on their flattery.  She told us that it was a "classic" and audiences love it. But in the 19th century the ending was edited for audiences who did not like the depressing ending.  Now that's convenient.  I was puzzled as a 17 year old.  Still am.  Why do people like to watch movies like Titanic, Gone with the Wind, or Doctor Zhivago?  I am not fond of going through tragedy.  And, I really don't like reading about it or watching it at the movies.  (Again - I call it "Learing.") Then again, I'm not too fond of going to the movies anyway.  

I have found, however, in my short life that most people are not like me, and that is a good thing. Most people seem to enjoy watching a tragedy on film or reading about it in novels or plays. This is something we probably know instinctively, but it's been confirmed by "studies."  So why is this true?

 I have lost people that I love - it's devastating and tragic. Whether loss comes through a romantic breakup, a separation, a divorce or a death, the grieving process is painful.  Dr. Wayne Oates wrote a classic entitled Your Particular Grief that has been a tremendous help to me.

How about watching a tragedy?  It's a TRAGEDY. It is like when people ask me what the Bible book of Hebrews is about.  HEBREWS - hello?  TRAGEDIES end with loss or death. But audiences since the time of the ancient Greeks have loved them. Why is this?

A team of researchers at Ohio State University has marshaled evidence "that watching tragedy inspires self-reflection, which allows us to refocus on the people in our lives we might otherwise take for granted." They conclude that the melancholy we feel when watching these stories ultimately provokes "pleasant feelings of gratitude."

That's right: Watching a tragedy makes us feel thankful. Kind of weird.

Writing in the journal Communication Research, these cultural scholars say that the sadness we feel during such a story "fosters thoughts about one's close relationships." We naturally contrast our own lives with the miserable fates suffered by tragic characters, and the end result is a feeling of happiness. Tragedies can wake us up, remind us of the fragility of life, and inspire us to count our blessings "with regard to close relationships." At the end of the story, we are grateful for what we have. 

That's the value of tragedy. "Learing." But can tragedy turn my life around? 

I was asked this week a good question.  What do you consider the most important aspect of the Christian faith?  My answer?  The Resurrection of Jesus.  Lots of people died on crosses only one bodily resurrection.  As I reflect, I am still thinking I am sticking with my answer; however, Mrs. Huckabee's speech on King Lear and the value of tragedy has merit.  How often I find things in life dragging me down.  I need help - an advocate.  I long for someone to take my place - a substitute, a savior.  Interesting that those are the three sides of Jesus in the TRAGEDY of the cross.  Resurrected he now argues my case and puts himself in my place. He saves me from any sin that rips the fabric of my relationships with God, neighbor and self.  Yes - self - I am most of the time my own worst enemy.

At the end of His tragic earthly story, Jesus wants me to be grateful and empowers me to turn my life around.
I feel pretty good about my life right now. But reading, watching, and reflecting on tragedy makes me think more seriously about my existence.  It kind of wakes me up, and reminds me that horrible things can and do happen and that inspires me to appreciate each day I have - taking no day or no one for granted.

The CROSS of Christ did that for me.  I am deeply moved by this gift, and accept it with thanks.  God's plans are certainly different from mine.  If it were left up to me there would be no "Learing."  But God knows that right now in our world?  There's lot to "Lear" about.

Stress 911

Yesterday I mowed the grass and trimmed the hedges.  It was a stress relief - the front of my house was beginning to look like the Adam's family lived here.  If worry is the interest paid on trouble before it is due, too often I would be maxed to the gills.  "Toxic" worriers are people who obsess over everything that could possibly go wrong - to the point of paralysis by analysis.  According to "studies," I was told this past week, that toxic worriers were 21/2 times more likely to suffer heart attacks than less stressed-out individuals.  In my brief life I have done a lot of things that were supposed to relieve my stress and worry.

How about the old - just "Don't worry, be Happy?" -remember that remedy? - didn't work for me.  

There are some suggestions that I found that do have promise. Like...

Using my Mastercard to pay off my Visa.

Popping some popcorn without putting the lid on.

When someone says,"Have a nice day!", tell them I have other plans. (rude!)

Make a list of things I have have already done. (short list - could be boring & more stressful)

Go shopping, Buy Everything, Sweat in them, Return them the next day! (Seems that this was a Seinfeld episode.)

Drive to work in reverse. (My aunt Clara did drive (not in reverse though) on the wrong side of the interstate from Jackson   to Houston one time - but she always seemed stressed out.)

Play my old records backwards and listen for subliminal messages. (never did this - now I have to find a record player to do it...I wonder if I can play CD's backward?)

Bill my doctor for the time I spent in his waiting room. (Now this is a good idea!)

Every time I begin to think that  paralyzing fear and worry only strikes other people, I take a good look in the mirror.  Nearly half the American people are consumed with one form or another of worry, says Edward Hallowell, a psychiatrist & Harvard Medical School dude. The old English word for worry had the idea of someone choking.  The Greeks?  Being pulled into four different directions at one time.  Now that is a low blow.  Mainly because it describes me 90% of the time.


In know, I know - there is a thing called good worry - a worry that is suppose to lead to constructive action.  Not working for me.  But in theory that is how it is supposed to work.  Toxic worry on the other hand is something of which I am familiar.  It does just the opposite. It paralyzes.  I tend to brood, to ruminate, to wake up in the middle of the night. Meanwhile I don't take action. It sounds a lot like the servant who took his talent and hid it? Remember that gem from Bible School?

When I hear this parable, I immediately think that he was  "unfaithful" or "lazy," because, frankly, that's how the Good Book renders it.  While this is part of the picture, there is another vantage point from which I can view the actions of the servants in this parable. Why did the one servant shirk from developing his gift, while the other two invested their "talents" -- which one scholar estimates equal 15 years' wages! -- and made 100 percent profits?

Again - according to the Book -  the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, 'Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.'" The key phrase for me is right in the middle: SO I WAS AFRAID.  Stressed, worried - and it got toxic. I  sympathize with the poor guy in this parable who, when given some money to invest, fell victim to paralysis by analysis, worried that he might lose the whole wad. So he buried it rather than buying bonds, banking it, or taking a chance with the bulls and bears of the stock market. When the CEO returned, heads rolled. (Sound familiar?)

Now - lets just speculate  - IF worry can inspire action or stop it cold. Accepting -- just for a moment -- the idea that the master was indeed "harsh" and someone who "[reaped] where [he] did not sow," look at the responses of the three servants. It's not that the first two didn't have their share of worry about this assignment. They were no doubt petrified to the bottom of their portfolios.

But maybe they had good worry, the worry that works. All three servants shared the same circumstances. They all had a harsh master. They were all given a job to do. They all had the same stockbrokers, investors to deal with. Two made worry work for them; the third was poisoned by it.
In today's arena, they might have purchased an Internet stock at its initial public offering; or perhaps they became "day traders," captains of the new economy shuttling funds, internet savvy, into this stock and out of that with a rapidity that can make your head spin. (Thinking this may be one of the problems with today's Dow averages).  Whatever the motivation, and whatever they did, these two servants did something substantial: The returned a handsome profit to their master. And, indeed, the master in this parable was pleased with their work, rewarding each for their effort and success.

But the third servant froze in his tracks. (There I am - again!)  Maybe he believed the untruths he told himself about his master, that this was a man who was harsh and even a thief, someone who harvested what he didn't plant. These things AREN'T true of God, of course, nor of Jesus, but they ARE what many people imagine to be true. (and too often I think this way)

Communication, for me, HAS helped over the years.  I talk to someone -- a friend, a relative, my wife, my kids.  Talking helps me put things in perspective. I attempt should to get the real facts of a situation. Find out what is and isn't true. Leadership Guru Peter Drucker says that "once the facts are clear, the decisions jump out at you."

Finally, I make a plan to deal with the situation, whatever it is. See what can be done to improve a problem -- rather than let it fester.  As a believer, however -- as a servant of the great Master -- I have something even greater than just talking it over with others or making a to-do list as ways to conquer worry. I have a loving Savior who wants to see me do well, to succeed with whatever He's given me to do. His presence, that hope, helps me conquer toxic worry in the here and now -- and in the weeks and months to come.  I have found that most things are not worth losing stomach lining over. Taking Jesus literally -  until the next day -  not worry about that...lot's of stuff to worry about today -I'm at least banking on it.