Walking the Labyrinth: Praying When You Can’t Fix What Hurts
Learning to bring God our grief, our questions, and the people we cannot rescue
One beloved to our family has fallen down a rabbit hole.
A situation she did not create and cannot resolve has taken her into a place more nightmare than wonderland, more down than up. Someone she had trusted with her life has turned against her, leaving her struggling to make sense of a relationship where logic has been turned upside down.
The one she loved— now turned adversary— sees life not as it is, but as they are. Projection, narcissism, control. Our friend feels disoriented by grief, burned by betrayal.
Do you know someone going through that, too?
Last week, I participated in reNEW – a spiritual retreat for New England writers held on the beautiful grounds of a former Catholic convent. With my heart burdened for my friend, I decided to walk the large labyrinth laid out in stone on the lower lawn.
Walking a labyrinth is an ancient practice of prayer and contemplation. Unlike a maze, which presents the traveler with wrong turns and dead ends, a labyrinth offers a single winding path to the center.
A storm had just passed, leaving the afternoon overcast, gloomy, cold. Head down and hands pushed deep into pockets, I began with praise and confession, thanking God for this beloved friend’s presence in my life and admitting how helpless I felt in the face of her suffering. Interceding, supplicating, begging for his intervention.
As I walked, a surprise—the concentric circles of the labyrinth didn’t lead straight to the center. Sometimes the path took me farther out, away from my destination. I was making progress, but it didn’t feel like it. I slowed my pace, quieted my mind. Hurrying would not help; I needed time to surrender my fears over a situation I could not change.
And then, unexpectedly, I arrived at the center– fully present in that small space, enclosed in the tight embrace of the inmost circle. Held by God in his very heart.
The circuitous route had become an invitation to listen. To pause, to be present, to release my anxiety in prayer. To confess my helplessness and accept God’s sovereignty.
Nothing in my friend’s circumstances had changed while I walked. I still had no answers, no way to make things right. But I could entrust her to the One whose love reaches where mine cannot.
Maybe you’re walking a winding path of your own, longing for some sign that you’re getting somewhere. Oe someone you love is suffering, and you ache to make a way through for them. You need space to grieve, someone to listen, strength for the next step.
The path may feel labyrinthine at times. You don’t need to see where it’s leading to bring God your weariness and questions.
You can pause here, in the midst of all that’s unresolved, and let yourself be held.
You are in God’s good keeping, and so are they.
So much love,
Maggie
IT’S YOUR TURN. What helps you find your footing when life takes an unexpected turn?