For a long time I wondered about my inability to get numerous tasks accomplished on the first try. Of course, most people occasionally experience Murphy’s Law–“if anything can go wrong, it will go wrong.” But statistically, I am a champion of start-overs and second attempts. In fact, it takes me longer to get out of real mazes than any of my companions! Now, before you think I am a pitiful paranoid, let me give you an example of what is part of everyday existence.
When my husband and I purchased an oval, oak table, we were told it would arrive at our home in one week. On schedule, two furniture movers brought in a big cardboard box and unloaded the most hideous rectangle table I had ever seen. It displayed chrome legs and a glass top with white plastic lines running across it.
“This isn’t our oak table,” I stated the obvious to the movers.
One of them looked at his papers and said, “Ma’am, the form says oak table.” With that declaration, the movers dodged for the door.
“Wait a minute! Where are you going? Does this look like an oak table to you?”
The one mover paused judiciously and scratched his chin, “No, it ain’t, but I guess it’s better than no table at all.”
They left. My oak table was delivered a week later, and the “used” glass and chrome table went out the door.
Of course, a furniture mix-up was a small matter. But when one lives under the expectation of doing most tasks twice, there is some soul searching and identity crisis. I discussed this problem with my dad one day to see if he could offer any enlightenment.
“Well, Sister,” he said, “You do seem to spin your wheels.”
Ah, the suspicion now confirmed.
He was right. A wheel spinner was exactly how I felt. Immediately, I started praying, “Please God, don’t let me spin my wheels every day.”
Not long afterward, I read an article about the ancient Christian tradition of a labyrinth. A labyrinth is different from a maze in that you cannot get lost or go into a dead-end when you travel it. A labyrinth’s path will take you to its center. Then, as you continue walking, stopping for prayer along the way, you will amazingly exit near the same place you started. You travel in a circle!
Ding! Something rearranged my thoughts, and I felt like God had answered my prayer. Maybe perceived wheel spinning was actually a journey that brought me closer to God and moved me outward and onward in life. Maybe my so-called “curse” of wheel spinning was really my blessing of traveling various labyrinths with Him. If that were true, I should not mind journeying the distance, even if it meant walking in circles and having forced Sabbaths when tasks resulted in a temporary halt.
The psalmist declares, “Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage” (Psalm 84:5, NIV). The dusty journey can be a labyrinth, not a maze.