It was almost a year ago that Pastor Debbie took me on a tour of the grounds at Hope and told me her vision of building a labyrinth there on church property. Even though the only labyrinths I knew of were found in mythology and had minotaurs lurking around corners, Pastor Debbie explained that the labyrinth she spoke of was not a maze, it was not something to get lost in, but rather it was contemplative prayer walk.
It’s funny how when you hear something for the first time, suddenly you hear it everywhere. Within days of Pastor Debbie telling me about the labyrinth, I found myself in a class, learning about how the brain works. We were given a book to read called A Whole New Mind and there in a chapter entitled Meaning, were pages on labyrinths, how they are used not only at churches, but also at hospitals as meditative walks.
And with that, I was on board.
Here’s the problem, though. When I get on board with something, I frequently want it to happen right away.
Timothy Keller writes in King’s Cross (and really why aren’t you reading this book yet) that “Patience means working when gratification is delayed.”
The process that eventually brought a labyrinth to Hope was a long process. It involved at its most basic level a continued dedication to removing from the grounds those things that were dead and/or choking the life out of surrounding plants. It involved paperwork in the form of a grant. It involved so many things that had to click into place before something else could happen.
Sometimes when you have a goal, when you have something you want more than anything in the world to happen, you have to accept that things happen in God’s time and that the only thing you can do is keep taking those steps—sometimes very small—toward that goal.
Yesterday I was there when the plants were finally added to our labyrinth. The labyrinth had started to take shape a few weeks ago when Pastor Debbie and Marty laid the path with rocks, but now the plants were here.
And our labyrinth went from a drawing on a piece of paper, to a 2D project in rocks, to something now with depth and substance.
It was a hot day and I think my only contribution may have been to watch others digging the holes and carefully planting the Simpson Stoppers that will eventually grow together to create the hedge of the labyrinth.
But I was glad to be there.
This morning as Pastor Debbie showed others around the labyrinth, I found myself stooping and gently lifting up some of the smaller plants that were wilting and leaning from the rain and the wind the night before. I’ve never been a fan of nature. I like it from a distance. I love it through a camera lens.
To touch it as I did this morning, to gently settle the small stem on a pinecone or dirt clod, to help prop it up so that it has a chance, this is something I would never do, but did today.
It’s one of the reasons I’m still amazed.
I sat in church this morning and realized that. I’m amazed … that I’m still amazed, that a year after joining Hope, God still surprises me sometimes in the smallest, yet most meaningful ways.
He surprises me with purpose.
He reminds me that even when I have fallen much like those tiny plants, when the world seems too heavy to bear, He reminds me that He cares for me in the way we care for those plants … with gentleness and dedication and wonder.
I'm still amazed.
I'm still blessed to be amazed on this my 100th posting.
