Help!

I lift up my eyes to the hills-- where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. (Psalm 121:1-2)

Tristran Thorn is on a journey. The protagonist of Neil Gaiman’s Stardust promised anything in the world to the girl he thinks he loves, and she asked for the star that they had just seen fall from the sky, so Tristran takes off into Faerie in search of this treasure. When he reaches the place that he knows the star landed, he finds not a lump of molten rock and metal as he expected, but a beautiful girl in a sparkly dress whose leg was broken in her fall from the heavens.

He claims the star and begins to take her back to his home in the village of Wall, but she is not very pleased to be captured. When at one point she escapes, he fears he will never find her again, especially when sheer exhaustion forces him to sleep beneath a tree. When he wakes, he finds that the tree is talking to him and offering to help him, but having been warned to be wary of everything in Faerie, he is sceptical.

The tree rustled. 'Why don't you tell me your story so far,' said the tree, 'and let me be the best judge of whether or not I can be of help.’
Tristran began to protest. He could feel the star moving further and further away from him, at the speed of a cantering unicorn, and if there was one thing he did not have time for, it was the recitation of the adventures of his life to date. But then it occurred to him that any progress he had made on his quest so far he had made by accepting the help that had been offered to him. So he sat on the woodland floor and he told the copper beech everything he could think of…

I think the same could be said of everyone — we get by with a little help from our friends, to borrow a song lyric, but help is not always easy to accept. Pride gets in the way sometimes, or maybe, like Tristran, we fear the ulterior motives that might be lurking behind the seemingly kind gesture. In the end, though, we have to realize that we will never make any progress unless we accept the help that is offered to us — from family, from friends, from complete strangers, and ultimately, from God. We will never catch our fallen stars without it.

Controlling the Horizontal and the Vertical

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. (Proverbs 3:5-6)

“There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture….We will control the horizontal. We will control the vertical.” So begins the old science fiction television show The Outer Limits. I was reminded of these words a few weeks ago while walking the labyrinth set into the floor of a local church.

A labyrinth is different from a maze in that there is only one path in and out, with no decisions to be made about which way to go and no chance of getting lost in it. It is symbolic of life’s journey, with its twists and turns and surprises, with a goal that sometimes seems so close only to have the path turn away from it and go in a different direction, and that sometimes seems so far away yet is only a few more turns from the center.

Walking a labyrinth is about giving up control and following a line that someone else has put before us. People set so much stock in being in control, even those who don’t usually label themselves as “control freaks.”  But the labyrinth reminds us that we are not in control at all. We are only following the path set out for us by God. We may feel like we’re in a maze when we come to a fork in the road or a decision to be made, but ultimately every twist and turn leads us exactly where God intended all along. It’s a liberating thought if we allow it to be - the labyrinth frees us from worry about what to do, because all there is to do is put one foot in front of the other along a set path. It frees us to listen, to pray, to rest, to really observe what is going on within and around us.

If we continue to listen to the television show’s opening, we are admonished to sit back and relax because we were no longer in control and then we are told, “You are about to participate in a great adventure. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to The Outer Limits.” Again, how fitting those words are. Walking a labyrinth can indeed be a great adventure, discovering with awe and mystery everything from peace and calm to great spiritual truths that normally can’t find their way through the noise and chaos produced by all the things we do to maintain the appearance of control. And outside of the labyrinth, life certainly is an adventure.

I pray that I may remember the lessons of the labyrinth more often. I need to do more listening, more looking, more following, and less trying to be in control so that I don’t miss the awe and mystery that God puts before me every step of the way in this amazing journey.

Sanctuary

Six days shall work be done, but the seventh day is a Sabbath of solemn rest, holy to the Lord….It is a sign forever between me and the people of Israel that in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day he rested, and was refreshed.
(Exodus 31:15, 17)

Early on in The Hobbit, Bilbo, Gandalf, and the Dwarves spend some time at Rivendell, the "Last Homely House" on the edge of the wilderness. They stay there for a number of days, during which time they regain their strength and receive from Elrond help in interpreting Thorin's map of the Lonely Mountain and advice on the best route through the Misty Mountains. When they leave, they are rested and re-supplied, ready for the next portion of their journey. 

After Rivendell, the travelers face their toughest challenges thus far, involving goblins, wargs, and several very narrow escapes. They are rescued from certain death by the eagles, who then provide them with transportation a little bit farther down their path. They have lost their supplies, however, and are hungry and discouraged when Gandalf leads them to the home of Beorn, the fearsome shape-shifter who is sometimes a man and sometimes a bear. As in Rivendell, they are welcomed, fed, given soft beds to sleep in, and allowed to stay a few days to rest. Before they leave, they are given food, water skins, bows and arrows for hunting, and ponies to carry them and their supplies, at least a little ways. Like Elrond, Beorn gives them wise counsel about the best way to get through the forest of Mirkwood and warnings about the dangers they may encounter within. 

Without these two important rest stops along the way, the dwarves would never have made it all the way to the Lonely Mountain to finish their quest. There are similar waypoints along the Christian journey, known as Sundays. When we gather as the Church for worship, study, and fellowship, we experience rest from the everyday grind and renewal of the spirit, and if we pay attention, we might also hear God's advice for living. It is possible, I suppose, to go through life alone, relying only on God, but it is much more fulfilling and enjoyable when we take advantage of His rest stops.

Just Keep Swimming…

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:1-2)

The dwarves managed to escape from their goblin captors, but their freedom turns out to be short-lived. Bilbo is getting a piggy-back ride from one of the dwarves so that his short legs don't slow them down, and when the goblins catch up with them again and his ride is captured, he falls off and rolls to the side of the passageway, unnoticed. When he awakes, he finds himself in pitch-darkness and unsure of the way he should go. After some moments of panic, he manages to take stock of his situation and finds, to his comfort, that he is still intact and that he still has his sword that glows when goblins are near. This calms him and allows him to better assess his situation:

"'Go back?' he thought. 'No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!' So up he got, and trotted along with his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his heart all of a patter and a pitter."

Sometimes, it's hard to see where we are going. It feels like we're lost in the dark and may never reach our destination. The only thing to do in this situation is to persevere, to keep going forward, knowing that we are not alone and that sitting still is the quickest way not to get anywhere at all. We must pick ourselves up, reach for the One that will guide us, and head out. If we have a magic sword to lead with, or even a silly little ditty from a Disney cartoon to cheer us, so much the better!

Parallel Journeys

When I began re-reading The Hobbit for the purpose of blogging as I go, I had not noticed how appropriate that would be for this time of year. It is yet another lucky coincidence, like those that happen to Bilbo throughout the novel, that for the next six weeks or so my posts about Bilbo's journey to the Lonely Mountain and back again will correspond to the Christian journey known as Lent.

Lent is a time to reflect on the life of Jesus and on his ultimate sacrifice for the good of all people. During these forty days, many people make personal sacrifices and  go on a spiritual journey of penitence, reflection, and reconciliation whose end is the joyous celebration of Easter, when Christ conquered death and made eternal life possible for all.

Bilbo and the dwarves experience many instances of hardship, peril, and sacrifice on their way to their destination, and some even lose their lives. In the end, however, the quest is successful and Bilbo journey ends with his return to the Shire with a load of treasure and a life forever changed by his adventure.

May it be the same for all of us who undertake the Lenten Journey, that we will emerge on Easter Sunday reborn and enriched with new spiritual insights!

The Eye of Orion ... or Somewhere Else?

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. (Jeremiah 29:11)

"You didn't always take me where I wanted to go," said the Doctor to the TARDIS-in-human-form. "No, but I always took you where you needed to go," she replied. This pivotal conversation in "The Doctor's Wife" made a big impression on me, as you already know if you read my previous post. Just recently, however, I saw another scene from that episode that made me think some more.

After the adventure is over, Amy and Rory have been saved, and the soul of the TARDIS has returned to her mute home in the pan-dimensional blue box, the Doctor prepares to depart. He races haphazardly around the console, turning dials and flipping switches while keeping up a running dialogue with himself. He turns one last dial and announces his destination: "Ok. The Eye of Orion, or wherever we need to go." Before he has a chance to pull the last lever, it moves all by itself, the machine's acknowledgement of the Doctor's willingness to give up any illusions of control he might have had, because he now realizes that he was never in control to begin with.

How much less stressful would my life be if I stopped trying to be in control of everything, if I stopped getting angry at finding myself in a difficult situation or not being where I wanted to be? What if I faced each situation with a different attitude, that of seeking to discover what purpose I am to serve in my present circumstances, however negative or unwanted I think they are? As much as I'd like to think it or make it so, I'm not really in control, and even though I really want to go to the Eye of Orion, that doesn't appear to be in the cards right now. To have the Doctor's attitude about the whole thing - to stop fighting the inevitable and to make the best of what comes - is my goal right now.