In A Labyrinth Year, Kautz guides readers on a labyrinth pilgrimage that winds through the seasons of the liturgical year with devotions (to be used while walking the labyrinth) based on the thoughts and emotions of biblical characters whose stories are recalled in the seasonal scripture readings. As readers explore the journeys of these people of faith, they connect with the deeper meaning of the stories and learn to live them out in their own experience.
In A Labyrinth Year, Kautz guides readers on a labyrinth pilgrimage that winds through the seasons of the liturgical year with devotions (to be used while walking the labyrinth) based on the thoughts and emotions of biblical characters whose stories are recalled in the seasonal scripture readings. As readers explore the journeys of these people of faith, they connect with the deeper meaning of the stories and learn to live them out in their own experience.
Paperback
-
PICK UP IN STORECheck Availability at Nearby Stores
Available within 2 business hours
Related collections and offers
Overview
In A Labyrinth Year, Kautz guides readers on a labyrinth pilgrimage that winds through the seasons of the liturgical year with devotions (to be used while walking the labyrinth) based on the thoughts and emotions of biblical characters whose stories are recalled in the seasonal scripture readings. As readers explore the journeys of these people of faith, they connect with the deeper meaning of the stories and learn to live them out in their own experience.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780819221575 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Church Publishing, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 10/01/2005 |
| Pages: | 107 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x (d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
A Labyrinth Year
Walking the Seasons of the Church
By Richard Kautz
Church Publishing, Inc.
Copyright © 2005 Richard A. KautzAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8192-2157-5
CHAPTER 1
The First Movement: Walking to Bethlehem
Advent/Christmas
The Call
Mary (Luke 1:26–38)
God's call never comes in a time or manner you'd expect. You can't prepare for it or request that it arrive on a certain day or at a specific moment. God is the caller; you are the receiver. It matters little to God whether you're deep in prayer or busy with ordinary tasks. When God extends a hand to you, it's in God's time, not yours.
That's how it happened with Mary. By all accounts, she was a young girl. In our culture, she seems too young to be thinking of marriage, of building a home, of having children. In our day, we'd see her in that awkward stage between dolls and dates. But in her world she was doing exactly what was expected of her—preparing to be a bride. Barely in her teens, she had her future all laid out for her. Her family had made the arrangements and she was betrothed to a good man. She would obey her parents' wishes, marry her betrothed, raise his children, and make a home for her new family. But God had other plans.
Scripture doesn't mention where or when the angel Gabriel came to Mary. Was it in the cool of the evening or in the hot midday sun? Was she going about her daily chores—fetching water, sweeping the floor—or was she kneeling in quiet prayer? We don't know, nor do we need to. If we knew exactly what she was doing at that precise moment, we might tend to make that our focus. We might say, "That's how we must encounter God." But the point isn't how Mary heard God—or even how we go about hearing God. It's about God's leading and our being obedient. It's about God's initiative, God's action. Mary's response—and ours—should be simply: "Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."
Your Advent journey also begins with a call. Some legends of Mary speak of a dove that always appeared in those special moments. As you shop for presents, send cards to family and friends, and wander the congested malls and supermarkets, be on guard for the unexpected brilliance of angels. The sheer power of the moment may take your breath away. In your excitement tinged with terror, God's voice may have to comfort you with those same words the angel spoke to Mary: "Be not afraid."
But then again, God's voice may be found in the soft fluttering of a dove. A fluttering so soft and delicate that, if you aren't paying attention, you could miss it altogether. You may be caught up in glorious worship, surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells of church. Or you may be right in the midst of the drab, ordinary stuff of life. Whatever the circumstances and wherever you may be, God is calling you to the highest of callings, asking you to carry the Son. God is calling you to be pregnant with the Holy Spirit. God is calling you to put aside all the plans the world has for you and to follow a different plan. Are you ready to begin your journey? How obedient are you right now? Are you ready to say, "Here I am, Lord. Use me."
Joseph (Matthew 1:19–25)
We know exactly where Joseph was when he heard the call: he was in bed, asleep. There were no flashes of light, no tangible being that he could reach out and touch, not even an opportunity to ask questions. There was just a dream in the night.
We know very little about Joseph. He was a carpenter and a descendant of the family of David. That's it. We do get to see his actions, and they speak to the kind of man he was. He knew what was right and how things needed to be done. His training as a carpenter taught him that. In construction, things fit together just so, and Joseph may have seen life in much the same way. He knew the law and what it meant for Mary to be carrying a child that wasn't his. She could have been stoned to death for adultery. But the Bible tells us that Joseph was a righteous man and unwilling to expose Mary to such a fate. It says he resolved to end the betrothal, send her away, and spare her. It wasn't an easy decision. He cared for Mary. Should he marry her anyway? Should he follow the law and expose her to harm? The Bible indicates that he weighed all the options and decided to do the right thing. With the hard decision behind him, Joseph went to bed, dreading the difficult task that awaited him. Into that fitful night's sleep, God sent his angel.
Sometimes we get a dramatic sign of God's will for us. Sometimes we have a dream that seems so right that we know just what to do when we awake. Mary was obedient to God's call. So was Joseph, but somehow his response seems to us to come more out of duty. Everyone hears God in different ways. Even the same person may not always hear God in the same way each time. Reflect on those times of call when you didn't get a tangible sign. Reflect on the quiet moments of God's presence when you just "knew" what was right. Trust in God to lead you where you need to go—and don't always ask for a sign. If your heart is grounded in the will of God, it will know the sound of God's voice.
The Magi (Matthew 2:1–8)
The call came to the magi long before the Word was made flesh in Mary's womb. Their study told them that a great celestial sign would accompany the birth of a new king, a king unlike any other. They were from a different land, a different culture, a different religion. They were kingly advisors, prophets, priests, magicians, and scientists. They didn't answer the call out of obedience or duty. They were searching for truth. They were drawn because they sensed something awesome and wondrous.
We tend to limit God and want God to act according to our expectations: God should be predictable, logical, and stick to the rules. God calls people like Mary and Joseph—respectable, religious people, not the unrighteous. That would be like throwing pearls before swine. We look around our churches and single out those individuals who seem so holy, so kind, so nice, and we say to ourselves, "God has a hand on them!" And it's true! But it often seems that God likes to use another kind of individual as well. God has a penchant for calling the wild ones: one with a hair shirt and a diet of locusts and wild honey, a persecutor who kills the faithful, even a trio of pagan magicians. God can call anyone, and the person is not always someone we expect. God is constantly turning our world upside down. Mary proclaimed it in her Magnificat: "He has shown strength with His arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty."
As you begin your journey to Bethlehem, think about being an outsider. You leave what is familiar and head out to someplace unknown, all because you hope for something wonderful. Into the night you go, with only a star to guide you. You don't know what you will find. You just know that you have to go because whatever it is, it's worth it, and it will turn your world upside down.
The Road
Mary (Luke 2:1–7)
It had been almost nine months since the angel gave Mary the miraculous news. She'd done everything God had asked of her. Now, with the baby due any day, she had to travel to Bethlehem. Why now? Why this arduous journey at such an inopportune time? Wasn't it enough to give birth to the Son of God without having to travel ninety miles on foot and donkey? The birth of a child was a family event—all the women would gather around to help bring a new life into the world. Especially for a young, first-time mother, it was important to be with the people she knew and loved. But once again, Mary said yes. Not just because Rome ordered it, but also because—for some reason—God wanted it too.
So Mary embarked on her journey to Bethlehem. She and Joseph loaded the donkey with supplies and began their trek. Nine-months pregnant, she walked ninety miles. When she could no longer take another step, Joseph would place her on the back of the donkey. There were times when she longed to be at home, surrounded by her loved ones, for the journey was a difficult one. But there was also a strange sense of excitement. There were so many people on the roads because of the census. It reminded her of the time when she was little and the family traveled in a caravan to Jerusalem for Passover. Perhaps, as they passed through Jerusalem, she'd get to see the temple once again.
But with each exhausting and sometimes painful step, Mary sensed that out of this challenge would come something wonderful. She took in everything around her, soaking it up. Each encounter with another traveler, every new sight, became engraved in her memory.
It seems that when God calls us, we always end up on a road that leads us away from home. The road may not be easy, but it's never unbearable. If we are open, willing to connect with all that's around us, we see God in every chance meeting, in every shade tree, even in every stone that trips us up. Then, just when we think we can't take one more step, someone appears to lift us up and carry us until we can continue the journey. The road is to be embraced, not feared, because it leads us closer to Bethlehem, closer to God.
Joseph (Luke 2:1–7)
Good, dutiful, organized Joseph—how the decree must have upset him. You can almost imagine what he might have thought. "Curse those Romans! You can always count on them to make things harder. Now, of all times, to have to go to Bethlehem." Although Mary wasn't really due for another week or so, with a demanding journey, anything could happen. It would take five days to get to Bethlehem. What if Mary went into labor? What could he do? The men were always kept outside while the women helped deliver the babies. Following God this time meant going down a road he would prefer to avoid.
Joseph wasn't a romantic visionary like Mary. He was the practical one. He wouldn't dream of disobeying God, but you can bet he wouldn't leave Nazareth until everything was well planned. He studied the route, made provisions, and did his best to eliminate unwanted surprises. Builders hate surprises. You can imagine Joseph on the road, watchful, vigilant. Whenever possible he would caravan with other travelers so that Mary would be surrounded by women.
God calls the visionaries and the planners. God needs both. As you respond to God's call, you offer up every aspect of yourself. Wanting to do what's right and wanting to do it well aren't contrary to God's will. What does go against God's will is being so in control that you don't take into account that God may have other plans. Organizing things is okay; trying to control and organize God is not. It's not how you pack for the road that's important, it's being willing to take the journey and go wherever God leads you.
The Magi (Matthew 2:1–8)
The road for the magi was much longer. They came from the east—from Babylon, Media, and Persia. Separating them from Judea was the great Arabian Desert, so their trek began northward along the mighty Euphrates. The road was lush and beautiful and well traveled. It had been used for centuries, carrying merchants, armies, and captives. This was the road that Abraham traveled when God called him from Ur almost eighteen centuries earlier. Seven centuries before, the Babylonians took this route as they marched the captive Israelites into bondage. Now Babylonian magi were going to Jerusalem, not seeking captives, but seeking a king.
Then the caravan turned southward into the valleys of Mt. Hermon and through the mighty cedar forests of Lebanon. The long journey would have been exhausting and Damascus, the halfway point, provided a place to rest. Moving onward once again, the travelers came to the beautiful city of Caesarea Philippi, perched high on a terrace overlooking the entire Jordan valley. Each city was more beautiful than the last. Any of these cities would have been a suitable place for the birth of a king, but the magi kept going south toward Jerusalem. It must be Jerusalem, with its elegant palaces and breathtaking temple, where the king would be born. So these seekers of truth kept going, kept following the star, not knowing where it would lead them.
When we start out to follow that distant, beckoning voice, we don't know how long the journey will be or where it will end. We come to a place and say to ourselves, "This must be it. This must be what God intends." But it's not—it's just an oasis that provides a moment of rest and peace. Our journey has days of great beauty as well as days of dry and sandy deserts. We must remember that we are but passing through. Our destination, our hope, our calling is for one thing—to go to God and to present our offering: our hearts, our lives, our worship.
Obstacles
Mary (Luke 2:1–7)
The sun was beginning to set when they entered the city gates. The end of their journey was near. Relief poured over Mary like a gentle rain, washing away her fears. The bustle of the streets seemed to lift her spirits. Merchants were shouting in the marketplace. Wealthy and poor passed one another without much notice. There were Jews and Greeks and Egyptians and, yes, Romans. The Romans were mostly guards, always looking about, expecting the worst to happen.
Mary let herself indulge in the expectation of a long night's rest. She could almost feel the cool oil upon her face, cleansing away the dirt of the past five days. She longed to sleep on something softer than the ground. She'd been through so much, not just in the past five days, but in the past nine months. She'd endured the doubts of her family, the looks in the village, the anger and pain in Joseph's face. In all that time she never complained to God, not about what people thought or how hard the journey was. And now it was almost over, for in the last few miles she could tell that something was different. Her baby was coming, and he was coming soon.
The caravan stopped at an inn as dusk descended. "Sorry, no room," the innkeeper said. "If you ask around, you might find someone who will let you spend the night on their terrace." Mary's heart sank. She couldn't go on any longer. Just when she thought it was over, there was another obstacle in the path. The thought of going door-to-door asking for hospitality was more than she could bear. Tears began to roll down her face as she pleaded to God, "Father in heaven, can't it be easy, just this once?"
As the innkeeper started to shut the door, he noticed gentle sobs coming from behind Joseph. He looked over the traveler's shoulder and saw Mary—pregnant, dirty, and exhausted. "Wait," he said. "I have a cave back amongst the hills where I sometimes board my livestock. It's clean and dry and safe." The innkeeper took an oil lamp and escorted the young couple to the stable as the last rays of light escaped from behind the hills.
There are times in our journey when we think the end is in sight. The hard part is over and all we have to do is step across the finish line. Then, just as we're about to reach out and claim the prize, something happens that throws us off balance. This obstacle can seem like the hardest of all, because the end was so close. We cry out to God, "Just once, can't it be easy?"
The journey towards God can have moments of excitement, joy, and even rest, but it's unlikely that the journey will ever be easy. Easy is standing still. Easy is doing nothing. Moving forward always requires energy, determination, and letting go—and these are not easy things. When you begin to think it's easy, it's time to pay attention. Either you'll soon encounter a stone on your path or you're just standing still.
Joseph (Luke 2:1–7)
"No room!" Joseph could feel the blood rush to his face. His hand tightened on the donkey's rein. "What do you mean, no room?" Joseph asked, with as much restraint as he could muster. Good God! Enough is enough. He had dealt with the looks and innuendos of his village. He was forced to take Mary on this long journey because Caesar commanded it. He had to see his beloved Bethlehem, the City of David, occupied by Roman soldiers and census takers. And now, after he and Mary had finally arrived, he was told there was no place for them to stay. It seemed as if all of Joseph's strength and resolve gave way. Joseph was angry. In that moment, he cursed Caesar, the census takers, and the other travelers. He almost let out a curse at that blasted angel. He didn't, but he certainly let God know that he was upset. Why him? Why Mary? If this is the good news, then what's the bad?
When does your resolve to seek God's face begin to fade away? Think about those times when you were sure you were following God's will. It may not have been easy, but you knew in your heart that it was what God wanted, and that was enough to keep you going. Then, all of a sudden, everything fell apart. Things didn't turn out as you'd planned or envisioned. Where, you wondered, was the fruit of your labor? You thought you were doing your part to build the kingdom of God, and now everything you'd worked for was in shambles. Perhaps you asked God, "What do you want from me, Lord?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from A Labyrinth Year by Richard Kautz. Copyright © 2005 Richard A. Kautz. Excerpted by permission of Church Publishing, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Acknowledgments
Introduction
The First Movement: Walking to Bethlehem Advent/Christmas
The Second Movement: Walking in the Light Epiphany
The Third Movement: Walking to the Cross Lent
The Fourth Movement: Walking in the Truth Easter
The Fifth Movement: Walking in the Spirit The Season After Pentecost
A Pattern for a Simple Finger Labyrinth