Last week my son came home from Sunday school with a maze—one of those worksheets in which you trace a looping labyrinth of trails from start to finish. His class had read the story of Jesus’s baptism, and the goal of this particular maze was to lead John the Baptist to Jesus. Rowan claimed the maze had been easy to navigate, but when I looked more closely at his worksheet, I saw it was covered in magic marker scribbles. Rowan had backtracked, crossed out lines, and re-worked his route. Clearly his path had led to more than one dead end along the way.
The more I looked at that magic-marker maze, with its twists and turns, dead ends and false starts, the more I recognized my own spiritual journey in it.
A few months ago I attended a Women of Faith event. About halfway through the weekend, one of the speakers issued a passionate call to audience members who had not yet given themselves to Jesus Christ. She asked all of us to close our eyes, and for those who were ready to make the commitment to raise a hand.
Though I consider myself a believer, in that moment I knew deep down I’d been holding something back. Despite the fact that I’ve written two Christian books and am an active member of my Lutheran church, I knew I wasn’t “all in.” After all those words I’d written about my spiritual journey, I still hadn’t wholly surrendered to Jesus.