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.