A Story about the Spiritual Journey

by Sharon Garlough Brown

  Katherine paused, letting the room fill again with pregnant silence.

  “Now, I’ll caution you right from the beginning,” she said slowly. “Walking the path toward freedom and deep transformation takes courage. It’s not easy. It’s not linear. It can seem messy and chaotic at times, and you’re likely to lose your sense of equilibrium as old things die and new things are born. You may feel disoriented as idols you once trusted and relied upon are revealed and removed. But don’t be afraid of the mess. The Holy Spirit is a faithful guide, gently shepherding and empowering us as we travel more deeply into the heart of God.”

  Charissa had stopped typing. Mara was fiddling with her bracelets. Meg was staring toward the exit door. Hannah didn’t realize she was gripping her cross until she felt the blunt tip of the nail dig into her palm. She let go.

  Katherine was right. Hannah had enough experience shepherding others through life change to know what kind of courage and perseverance that journey required. She hoped Meg and Mara would be able to manage it. In fact, maybe they were the reason Hannah had signed up for the group. She could be alongside them if they needed encouragement. By the look of things, they were going to need all the encouragement they could get.

  Katherine continued, “The most important notes you’ll take are not notes on what I say, though I hope you’ll glean a few helpful nuggets here and there. Your most important notes will be on what you’re noticing about your own life with God. Plan to keep some kind of journal—words, images, prayers, art, photos—something that will help you record what God reveals to you. You won’t need to share your reflections with anyone else unless you choose to do so. But give yourself the gift of documenting your journey.

  “As we walk together the next couple of months, we’re going to explore some spiritual practices that have helped Christians throughout the centuries pay attention to the movement of the Holy Spirit. While there are many rich and fruitful spiritual disciplines that help us love and serve God’s world, we’re going to explore disciplines that focus on the transformation of the inner life so that we're then set free to love and serve others in renewed ways. We’ll engage in practices that help us cultivate a deeper attachment to Jesus. We’ll look at ways to create sacred space in our lives so we have more freedom to say yes to God.”

  Freedom to say yes to God. Hannah wrote that down. She could use that in Chicago. She had a feeling she would be able to adapt and use a lot of what Katherine would be presenting. Good. Very good.

  Hannah watched Charissa’s hand shoot up when Katherine asked if anyone had any questions. “Are you going to give us a syllabus and a supplementary reading list?” Charissa asked, enunciating her consonants with careful precision.

  The corners of Katherine’s mouth curled into a slight smile. “I know this will be frustrating to some of you, but I won’t be assigning readings or using a syllabus. For the most part, I won’t even tell you ahead of time what to expect, though you’ll have personal reflections to do in the weeks between our sessions.”

  Charissa threw her shoulders back.

  Katherine was scanning the room as she continued. “One thing I’ve learned to pay attention to over the years is my impulse to want to control my life. We can be so quick to take the reins and charge ahead of what God is doing in us and around us that we miss the gentler promptings of the Spirit. It’s not that I won’t be giving you tools to help you encounter God in the journey,” she explained. “It’s just that I don’t want to give you anything right now that might tempt you to rely on your own understanding. I want to help you respond to the Spirit in deeper freedom and trust.” She brushed a wisp of silver hair away from her cheek. “Any other questions?”

  Hannah cast a sideways glance at Charissa, who was drumming her fingers on her laptop, looking irritated. Charissa spoke fluent Eyebrow, and Hannah had no difficulty interpreting. She hoped Katherine wasn’t being intimidated or affected. Hannah knew from experience how distracting facial expressions could be to a speaker, and Charissa was a seasoned professional. At least Charissa hadn’t sat near the front of the room. Maybe Katherine couldn’t see her. Please don’t let Katherine see her, Lord.

  “To get you started on your sacred journey,” Katherine went on, “we’ll begin with a mini-pilgrimage. Have any of you walked a labyrinth before?” A few hands went up around the room. “The one you’ll be walking today is the same pattern as the thirteenth-century labyrinth on the floor of Chartres Cathedral in France.” She paused, looking intently at the group. “Now, I’ll be honest with you. Some Christians get nervous about labyrinths because they’re found in many cultural and spiritual traditions. After all, the circle and spiral are ancient symbols for wholeness and transformation, and some people claim that the labyrinth pattern itself is mystical.”

  “Fabulous,” Charissa muttered.

  “I don’t believe there’s anything inherently mystical about the labyrinth,” Katherine said. “Transformation and healing come as gifts from meeting with the living God—not from walking along a particular pattern or path. The labyrinth simply provides an opportunity for prayer. Remember, the intent of spiritual disciplines is to create space where we can encounter God—space where we can be deeply touched and changed by God’s extravagant love for us. In walking the labyrinth, we deliberately slow down to give God our prayerful attention. We ask the Holy Spirit to help us be fully present to the One who is always with us. We quiet ourselves so we can notice the stirrings of God and respond in love, faith, and obedience.”

  Katherine picked up a stack of papers from her podium. “I’ll pass around handouts to your tables so you can read about the labyrinth in your groups. Then when you’re ready, head right out these exit doors and follow the path to the courtyard. Once you’ve finished walking and praying, come back inside, and we’ll share some reflections with one another, okay? And may you know God’s near presence as you walk together.”

  Sacred Journey, New Hope Retreat Center

  Session One: A Path for Prayer

  Katherine Rhodes, Facilitator

  _______________________________________________

  Walking the labyrinth is a sacred journey of prayer. Unlike a maze, the labyrinth has a single winding path that leads to and from the center, with no obstacles or dead-ends. As you walk, there may be times when you’ll want to stop, rest, and listen. Journey at your own pace. If you do get lost or confused, feel free to step off the path and begin again.

  While there is no set way to walk the labyrinth, some people find it helpful to picture the journey in three stages: the trip inward, the time at the center, and the trip outward.

  Just as pilgrims deliberately leave behind the cares of the world to travel freely and lightly, so God invites us to let go of the things that clutter our lives. As you begin the journey, notice what distracts and hinders you. Notice what competes for your affection and attachment to Jesus. The journey to the center is an opportunity to release burdens, identify fears, and confess sins.

  The center of the labyrinth is a resting place where you are held in God’s loving embrace. Linger as long as you wish, receiving whatever gifts of Scripture, insight, presence, peace, or revelation God gives. Simply enjoy being with God.

  Then, whenever you are ready, begin the outward journey. Allow the Spirit to strengthen and empower you as you take God’s presence and gifts out into the world.

  A Path for Prayer

  “What is it—a maze?” Mara asked, looking at the picture of the labyrinth on the handout. “That’s just what I need—to get lost the very first day. I could be wandering around in circles for weeks!”

  Charissa appeared to be reading ahead. “You can’t get lost,” she said dismissively. “There’s only one path to and from the center.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” Hannah said cheerfully, hoping Mara hadn’t taken Charissa’s irritated tone to heart.

  Charissa did not reply, verbally or non-verbally. Not even in Eyebrow.

  “It lo
oks kinda like a flower at the center, doesn’t it?” Mara commented, still studying the pattern. “Oh, I see. Here’s the entrance at the bottom, and I guess that’s the exit too, huh? One way in, one way out?”

  Hannah followed the meandering path with her finger, trying to trace it along the many switchbacks to and from the rosette-shaped center. After a while she gave up. “Shall I read the paragraphs out loud?” she asked.

  Mara was the only one who responded, nodding.

  Clearing her throat, Hannah began to speak slowly and deliberately, allowing space for the words to breathe. She could hear Mara murmuring to herself as she tried to memorize the three parts of the journey; but Hannah couldn’t tell if Charissa and Meg were listening. Charissa was staring at her laptop screen. Meg was staring at the floor.

  “Well, shall we give it a try?” Hannah asked after she finished reading. Mara and Charissa rose from the table, but Meg stayed glued to her seat. “You coming, Meg?” Hannah asked gently.

  Meg shook her head and pointed at her high heels. “I’m afraid I didn’t wear very sensible shoes. Guess I wasn’t taking ‘sacred journey’ literally, huh?” There was a flicker of life and humor in her eyes. Only a flicker.

  “I like it!” Mara exclaimed. “Sacred journeys need sensible shoes! What shall we call ourselves? The Sensible Shoes Club?”

  Meg laughed.

  “C’mon, girlfriend,” Mara insisted, grasping Meg’s hand and pulling her to her feet. “Your high heels aren’t gonna get you out of this one. You’re comin’ with us, ready or not.” Hannah was surprised Meg didn’t flinch.

  Katherine was watching people exit. “You can leave your backpacks and purses at your tables,” she said. “After all, pilgrims need to travel as lightly as possible.”

  When they reached the labyrinth courtyard, there were already a dozen people walking and praying. Some moved quickly, striding the path efficiently; others moved slowly, stopping frequently.

  “Well, this wasn’t what I expected,” Mara said in a loud whisper. “I thought it was gonna be some kind of hedge maze or something. What is it? Just lines painted on the concrete?”

  “Looks like it,” Hannah replied with a low voice, not wanting to disturb any of the prayerful pilgrims.

  “I seriously hope I don’t get lost,” Mara declared before she shuffled over to the entry point. Meg had chosen a bench at the far corner of the courtyard, semi-secluded in a bower of late summer roses. Charissa was circling the periphery, carefully scrutinizing those who were walking.

  The movement on the labyrinth reminded Hannah of a slow English country dance without the chamber music: people weaving in and out along the twists and turns, walking close together and then far apart, side-by-side for a short time and then turning away from one another to follow the direction of the path. A few had already reached the center. One man knelt with his head in his hands; one woman stood with her arms raised, face to the sun.

  As Hannah waited for more room to open, she prayed for Mara, Meg, Charissa, and Katherine. Then a tide of other faces rolled into her mind and would not recede, so she prayed for them too. At least Steve couldn’t keep her from praying for the people she had been forced to abandon.

  Hannah had reluctantly agreed to remove herself completely from the life of the church for nine months. Steve had directed her not to make any pastoral phone calls or send any work-related e-mail. Nancy had promised to let her know if anything significant happened.

  Death would have been easier.

  This was a sort of living death. Hannah lived on, but not in the same way she had known for the past fifteen years.

  Exile.

  That was the word to describe it. She had been exiled—except she had been sent to a beautiful, tranquil place. She ought to be grateful. But she wasn’t grateful. And then the guilt started all over again. It was a vicious cycle.

  Hannah watched Charissa begin her journey and wished Meg would join too. Stop, stop, stop, she told herself. Here she was, already taking responsibility for people she had only just met. Nancy was right. Hannah was so accustomed to carrying others’ burdens that she didn’t know how to lay them down.

  Help.

  By the time she finally stepped onto the path, many of her fellow travelers had completed their journeys. Meg and Charissa had gone back inside, and Mara was on her outward loop, passing Hannah on one of the switchbacks. Hannah found herself walking quickly and then remembered that being in a hurry defeated the whole purpose of the discipline. Or perhaps being in a hurry revealed something deeper about her pace of life. She slowed down and began to pray about letting go.

  As she prayed, an image came to mind—something she had seen almost twenty years earlier. She was in college then, a young and passionate believer, striving to please God by serving other people. Often she was so busy with classes and work and ministry that she forgot to eat.

  One day, while she was praying in her dorm room, she saw an image of herself as a little girl—maybe four or five years old. Little Hannah was racing in and out of the throne room of God to take flowers to Jesus. Back and forth she ran, in and out. Each time she raced in, she dumped more flowers at Jesus’ feet. Then out she’d run to gather more. On and on it went until finally, during one rushing delivery, Jesus scooped her up into his lap and gently wrapped his arms around her so she couldn’t wriggle away.

  “Thank you for the flowers, Hannah,” he said, smiling. “They’re beautiful! But what I’d really love is to sit and hold you for a while.”

  Hannah sighed. Twenty years later, Jesus would probably speak the same exact words to her again. Why was it so hard for her to be still?

  She stopped walking and stared at the center of the labyrinth, thinking about another woman who had struggled to be still: Jesus’ friend Martha.

  Hannah had always been sympathetic to Martha, who hospitably opened her home to Jesus and the disciples. She understood why Martha would become irritated and distracted by a sister who refused to help her get dinner ready for a house full of guests. Hannah pictured Martha banging the pots around and sighing heavily, trying to get Mary’s attention. But Mary just sat there with Jesus, oblivious to—or ignoring—her sister’s rising blood pressure.

  Martha simmered, seethed, and eventually erupted, chastising Jesus for her sister’s laziness, accusing him of not caring about her, and demanding he intervene. “Don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me!”

  What was Jesus’ tone of voice when he answered? “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things.”

  Worried and distracted.

  How many times had Jesus spoken those same words into Hannah’s life? “Hannah, Hannah, you are worried and distracted by many things.”

  She sighed again. Both sisters lived within her, and they had been arguing with one another for years. When Hannah sat still and attentively like Mary, listening to Jesus, her inner Martha would complain she was wasting time—especially since there was so much important kingdom work to be done. And when Hannah raced from one act of service to another, pouring out her life with multi-tasking efficiency, her inner Mary would cast one contemplative glance in her direction, and she’d feel guilty. Jesus was often left to referee the ongoing quarrel in her spirit.

  “Only one thing is necessary,” Jesus told Martha. Mary had chosen the better part of sitting still with Jesus, and Hannah had the same invitation.

  In fact, now that all her opportunities for serving had been stripped away, Hannah had all the time in the world to sit and listen to Jesus with single-minded attention—with nobody clamoring for her help. Nobody.

  So why did she resist the very thing she claimed she wanted? Why did she resist the invitation to sit with the Lord?

  By the time Hannah reached the center of the labyrinth, she was alone. She intended to linger and listen for God’s still, small voice. She intended to settle herself in God’s presence and concentrate on the “one necessary thing
.” But as she sat, she became more and more agitated. She kept thinking about the others gathered inside.

  What had Katherine said about group discussion?

  Hannah tried to focus.

  But had she missed anything?

  She took a deep breath, trying to center herself for prayer.

  But should she make sure she was at her table just in case someone needed something?

  She glanced at her watch: eleven fifteen.

  What time had the others gone back in?

  She stood up. She could always come back to walk and pray when she wasn’t so distracted.

  Without bothering to make the outward journey, Hannah left the labyrinth and scurried back inside.

  Charissa had left the labyrinth feeling provoked and resentful.

  There had been no moment of inspiration, no sense of God’s presence, no word of insight. Nothing. Silence.

  Silence from God, anyway.

  Her own thoughts had been loud enough, mostly second-guessing whether she was doing it right as she wandered aimlessly back and forth.

  Charissa didn’t like spirals. She liked straight lines and clear destinations. Walking in circles was pointless, and the twists and turns were frustrating. Just when she thought she was nearing the center, the path would hurl her to the outside again. It was extremely irritating.

  As she walked, she wasn’t able to think of anything she needed to release. No sins came to mind for her to confess. She tried to appear prayerful in case anyone was watching, but she was just eager to get to the end and be done with it.

  Besides—with all the talk about “sacred journeys” and “knowing your inner world,” she still wasn’t convinced she hadn’t landed in some sort of weird New Age group. Dr. Allen had assured her that the New Hope Center was theologically sound and that Katherine Rhodes was safe. But did Dr. Allen know about the labyrinth? Maybe Dr. Allen wasn’t as orthodox as Charissa had thought. Maybe he’d managed to sneak under the Christian radar of Kingsbury University.