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Labyrinth

D.P. Thiessen

At a glance, it is a cornfield like any other. A closer look indicates a few variations. The corn is tall and planted more thickly than usual. This field is a labyrinth, a maze, a series of pathways that twist, turn and split off in many directions. There is only one twisting path leading from the entrance to the exit, but many incorrect routes, many dead ends. Patrons are challenged to navigate their way through this puzzle. There are no maps or clues. The only aid is a red flag – these who become lost have the option of waving the flag above their heads in an attempt to gain the attention of a spotter positioned in a high viewpoint. From the spotter’s position, the proper route is clearly visible. With a loudspeaker, the spotter gives directions to lost patrons to set them on the right path.

I often feel as if I am in the midst of a large spiritual labyrinth, a spiritual journey full of twists and turns. I can never see very far ahead, and often I am unsure the path beneath my feet is the correct one. Sometimes I am lost, although I do not like to admit it. The easy way out would be to wave the flag and ask for directions, but most days I just try my own ideas. I’ll use the flag as a last resort. Although raising that flag, praying to God, is not a particularly difficult task, the manoeuvre requires several things to happen. It requires that I humbly admit that I need help and am prepared to change. Am I really ready for change? Am I willing to forgive others, to change my attitude toward other people, to alter the activities I participate in or the places I go? Am I really willing to listen to what God has to say?


Last summer, we took a trip through the Canadian Rockies. I made sure that the oil was changed in our car, the air conditioning recharged, the brakes checked. My children packed toys, clothes, tapes and books with the goal of having everything they would need at their fingertips. As we looked forward to the trip, we were prepared.

As I examine my spiritual journey, being prepared would be an inaccurate description. I am amazed at all the great speakers, motivators, magazine articles, books and people who have given me advice on a multitude of important topics. Had I listened, life would have been so easy. But I didn’t. I didn’t because I was not prepared to take their advice. I was not prepared to change. Don’t get me wrong. I am all for change – as long as it is in other people!

When I go to church, am I prepared to hear the voice of God, to accept that message and apply it? In my heart, am I prostrate before the Lord, desiring His guidance and willing to make the necessary alterations in my life?

Jacques Cartier, on one of his many trips to the New World, befriended the native inhabitants and acquired the services of one of the chief’s sons, taking him along on his voyages. Trying to leave Canada one fall, their ship became trapped in ice along the St. Lawrence River. The crewmen became sick after a few months, suffering intensely from scurvy. Death being imminent, they crossed the ice from their stranded ship to a nearby island and pleaded with God for deliverance. The native crewman made a tea from tree bark and informed the others the tea would heal them. No one drank it. After men began to die, one individual tried some; within hours, he began to recover. Observing the recovery, others drank the medicine and lived. Twenty-five people died because they were not prepared to accept healing from God in the form of native advice.

What brings tears to my eyes is that I see the same thing happening every Sunday morning. Christians flock to church bruised from life’s bumps and twists, needing rest and guidance. Some appeal to God in private prayer but then refuse to receive the peace that comes from genuine praise, worship, instruction and fellowship. They give ear to the well-thought-out sermon, laughing at the illustrations, understanding the Scripture, commenting on its importance. Then they leave the same as they came, wishing others in their life would change. They listen but do not hear. Their hearts were not prepared.

I also notice others who come and visibly experience the presence of God. They absorb every event, sometimes in tears, as they realize God is touching parts of their lives. They leave refreshed, revived, willing to do anything for the God who has done so much for them. The difference is that they came prepared to meet their Creator.

We need to come before God with a prepared heart, a heart willing to change. Daily I hesitate, then nervously raise my red flag, extend a prayer to God and wait in anticipation for the reply.

D.P. Thiessen is a teacher in Rocanville, Sask.

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Last modified April 18, 2002.

© 2002 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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