“Asterion?” I wondered if the minotaur was nearby and if he could hear me. No one answered though, and nothing except the sound of my voice filled the endless hallways.
“Can anyone hear me?” Nobody could, or if they did, they refused to answer.
I began to walk, not really knowing where I was going. I made turn after turn, backtracked a couple of times after running into dead ends, and explored some more. This maze seemed enormous, and I could scarcely imagine just how elaborate this place really was. Maybe I hadn’t even scratched the surface yet. That thought scared me.
I walked until blisters formed on my feet. I walked until my clothes were wet with perspiration. I walked until it seemed I was out of footsteps.
I was lost.
Somehow that seemed significant. It was a perfect state of the soul for a place like this.
I was also alone. That was fitting too.
Once I grew tired of exploring and searching for doors where there weren’t any, I collapsed in the middle of a hallway and hugged my knees to my chest, wondering what more I had to prove in this maze. How many more times would I have to say I was sorry before I was forgiven? How many more trials would I have to pass before the door leading back to my life reopened?
I thought about trying all of the things that had worked before-touching the walls in search of something significant, popping a guilt pill and hoping for an opened door, praying to God for a miracle. In the end, I did none of these things. I sat there on that cobblestone floor and contemplated my life.
It was only when I looked toward the end of the hallway that I saw light.
The sight was enough to put me back on my feet. I hoped the light was an exit of some sort but I tried not to dwell on it too much just in case it wasn’t. I’d always heard that the light at the end of the tunnel might actually be an oncoming train, and that kind of bad luck would be strangely appropriate in this place of twisting hallways and dredged-up guilt.
I walked toward the light, but no matter how many steps I took, the light seemed to get no closer. It felt like I was walking on a treadmill and gaining no ground. I picked up the pace and ran, yet the light still remained a pinprick in the distance.
The only thing I hadn’t done yet was to consult the scrap of parchment I had gotten at the beginning of the maze. I pulled it out now and studied it.
“The minotaur in the labyrinth at Crete was fed human sacrifices until he was killed by Theseus. Tribute was paid to him, and at times he was revered as a god. The minotaur might as well have been made of smelted gold and misguided prayers. Your life is full of minotaurs.”
I scratched my head, wondering what this could mean.
“What do you think it means? Sounds to me like you need to examine your priorities.”
I whirled in surprise to see who was there. All I saw was a swift flash of moving shadow race from one pool of darkness to another.
A child giggled from nearby. A little girl.
“Who’s there? Show yourself. I won‘t hurt you.”
“Catch me if you can.”
I strained to see into the darkness. It was like peering into the night sky and expecting to see Pluto. My eyes weren’t powerful enough to see who was hiding from me. Still, I knew she was there.
Nothing moved. Nothing shifted. Nothing made a sound. Even the hallways themselves seemed to be holding their breath in this game of hide-and-seek. The light at the end of the passage still remained, although it was just as far away as it had ever been.
I raced down the hallway, hoping to catch the owner of the voice by surprise. I heard giggles from behind me. I turned, unsure of how I could have passed right by the child and failed to see her. This one was sneaky.
“You’re no good at this game.” The girl laughed. “I’m surprised that you’ve made it this far.”
“You’re not playing fair.”
“Who said anything about fair?” The girl’s voice took a serious tone. “Life’s not always fair.”
“Give me a hint about where you are.”
“You’re not a very smart guy, are you? This game is just like everything else in your life. You’re blessed more than most people, and you can’t see all the good things in front of you. All you see are the problems, the trials, the tribulations, the darkness. All you see is what you don’t have. Open your eyes, Jamie.”
“Are you part of this maze?”
“As much a part of it as you are.”
“Is this a test?”
The girl chuckled. Her laughter sounded like water trickling over stones in a brook. “You don’t need anyone else to make your life hard. You do that on your own. Don’t you understand anything about this place yet?”
“I understand that I’m here because I planned to cheat on my wife.”
“You think that’s why you’re here?”
“That’s how it was explained to me. Are you saying I’m not here because of that?”
“Yes and no.”
“Why don’t you come out and tell me the real reason then?”
“I would, but I don’t want to.”
“Why am I here? I thought it was because I’ve turned my back on everything I believed. I’ve put up walls to keep everyone out.”
“And so they became the walls of this maze.”
“I was transported here after getting shot in the head at my ex-girlfriend‘s apartment complex. That has to be connected to this somehow. I went there with every intention of committing adultery.”
“So you’re a sinner. You’re a backslider. You committed your life to your beliefs, and then you fell into a trap. You let the little things encroach on your life, and you spiraled downward from there. It’s like leaving your front door open a tiny bit. Something wiggles its way in and forces the door open a little more. This happens again and again. Soon there’s nothing standing between you and the world. The door’s wide open, and any ungodly thing can walk right into your house and do what it pleases. But the door swings both ways. It can be closed.”
I walked back to the beginning of the passage, hoping that the girl felt comfortable enough around me to show herself.
“Where are you? This would all be so much easier if I could only see you.”
“I’m right here”. Her voice sounded close enough to touch. I spun around quickly, but no one was there.
“Enough games. Tell me what I’ve got to do to get out of this place.”
“Think of this maze as one big example of cause and effect. Everything you do has a consequence here. Getting here was a consequence of intent. This place is a manifestation of your entire life. Your deeds are sewn into the fabric of this maze. Your sins are the mortar that holds these walls in place.”
“I thought God was the only one who could judge sin.”
“This isn’t a place of judgment. It’s a place of enlightenment. Some people don’t react well to subtle hints and nuances. Some people need to be slapped in the face and roused from their sleep. You‘ve been slumbering for far too long.”
I tried to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. “You don’t talk like a little girl.”
“I never told you I was a little girl. You assumed that. Like so many, you hear what you want to hear. And in doing so, you hear nothing.”
“Is that important?”
“Not really. Appearances can be deceiving. What’s important is that you recognize this maze for what it is.”
“And just what is it?”
“A second chance,” the voice said. “Not everyone gets one. Some of those who do, waste it. Very few make it count.”
“The minotaur said that one way or another, I would die in this place. What good is all this enlightenment if I won‘t live long enough to make good use of it.”
“The minotaur.” The girl gave a haughty laugh. “That old walking carpet. Each maze is different, but invariably he shows up somehow.”
“He’s symbolic too, I suppose.”
“Oh no, he’s real. A maze is
no good if you don‘t have a monster roaming the corridors. You are the cause, and he is the effect.”
“At first I thought he was here to kill me. Then it seemed as if he wanted to help me. Should I be afraid of him?”
“Oh, yes, be very afraid. He’s spilled blood before, and he will again. Asterion has his own agenda to further down here. He’s the dark side of the coin.”
“But darkness can serve a purpose sometimes, right?”
“Darkness makes the light seem all the brighter in comparison.”
“You’re making my head hurt. Can’t you speak in something other than riddles?”
“I’m answering your questions in the only way I know how.”
“So is it true that I’m going to die here?”
“One way or another.”
I sighed, getting more and more frustrated. “What does that mean?”
“Death doesn’t always involve congestive heart failure or cancer or head trauma from a car wreck. It can also involve casting aside old ways and being reborn. Death can be literal or symbolic, depending on how you look at it.”
“So are you saying that the only way I can save myself in this place is to repent?”
“That would imply that your choice is forced. That isn’t true. You always have the final decision. God created things that way. Just remember that this place is largely symbolic. Hopefully the dangers you face here will open your eyes and make you see the way you’ve been living your life. But if they don’t then you’ll continue to stumble in darkness. And that’s all that being lost truly is.”
I rubbed my hand against one wall and noticed how cool it felt, how solid. “This doesn’t feel very symbolic to me.
“Just because something’s symbolic doesn’t mean it can’t be real. The Statue of Liberty stands for freedom, doesn’t it? And yet it’s an actual place. A crucifix symbolizes Christ’s sacrifice. People wear them around their necks every day.”
“Okay, so the maze is real. What are you a symbol of?”
“Think of me as a navigator for the road less traveled. I’m here to show you the way out, but you have to ask the right questions first.”
“Am I asking the right questions?”
“Some of them.”
“What is your name?”
“Conviction. You can call me Connie for short.”
“Conviction,” I was still confused. “I thought that was the purpose of this entire maze.”
“It is.” Connie let the implications of that sink in. “Now, maybe you understand why I haven’t shown myself. You‘ve been seeing me all along.”
Chapter 25
So there I was, trapped inside a maze called Conviction, with no clue how I was supposed to get out. Oh, sure, there were hints, thinly-veiled metaphors, and messages all meant to give me insight, but at this point I felt like a donkey being led around with a carrot dangling in front of its face.
“All I want is a straight answer.”
“The answers have never been straighter,” Connie said. “In a place of truth, there are no lies.”
“Spoken like a true sage. If you give everything multiple meanings, then every interpretation will be correct.”
“You don’t want to get out of here, do you?”
“All I want is to get back to my family and make things right. I want to get my life back on track. I want to go toward that light and stay there. I’m tired of living in shadows.”
“So what’s stopping you from doing any of those things?” Connie asked.
“You are.”
“Remember, I told you that this labyrinth is a place of free will. Maybe you couldn’t go toward the light because you hadn’t convinced yourself that the light is where you wanted to be.”
I banged my fists on the walls. “I want out of here!”
“So leave. The light will come to you, but you have to make the first move. Remember, the choice is yours.”
“So I can go there now?”
“Ask your heart that question.”
“Thanks for the non-answer.”
Although I had tried it before, I walked toward the light. As I walked, I thought about my life and how I truly wanted to change. I wanted the chance to get out of this dreary place and reform myself. I focused on the good in my life instead of the bad. I had a good job. I had a great family. I had a nice house, friends, people who cared about me. My life was better than I realized, and I wanted to get back to it. Although it was still quite a ways off, the light actually seemed to get bigger as I trudged down the gloomy hallway. I was making progress now.
Still, there seemed to be a lot of ground to cover. I had no doubt that there would be more tests, more traps that I could fall into if I wasn’t careful.
Nothing reinforced that notion more than the sudden appearance of frost on the walls. The passageway made an abrupt right turn, and I could tell by the icicles hanging from the ceiling that I was about to enter a dangerous place, made all the more so by the fact that I wasn’t dressed for winter. I shivered and watched my breath erupt in white plumes of fog.
“The Hall of the Crucified Thief is just ahead,” Connie said. “I’ll tell you more when the time is right.”
“The Hall of the Crucified Thief? Now doesn’t that just sound like a perfect vacation getaway.”
Connie, however, didn’t respond. She was gone for now. I was alone again.
It was like walking into a deep freezer. My teeth chattered with each step I took forward. Everything was covered in a thick layer of ice, and I walked slowly to keep from slipping.
As I ventured onward, taking care to avoid the low hanging icicles that threatened to impale me, I thought about what I knew about the Crucified Thief. All the sermons I had heard preached on the subject referenced the Thief as a focal point of hope for lost souls. The Thief had led a sin-filled life and been condemned to crucifixion because of his crimes. It was only as he hung on his cross, directly beside the cross of Jesus, that he received forgiveness. His last-minute repentance showed that it was never too late to receive salvation, and that a man could be saved as long as there was breath in his lungs and a true desire for forgiveness in his heart.
That kind of joyous example seemed at odds with the frigid, mind-numbing hallway I had stepped into. There was no hope in this kind of place. In fact, the desolation was so extreme that my heart felt heavy and overburdened. Veins of black ice ran across the floor, spider-webbing their way up the walls. Where the hall should have ended, stalactites and stalagmites of ice had fused together forming a set of bars that would have rivaled those in any prison. The only way to get to the light was to go through the ice, and I didn’t have any kind of tools to use for digging.
It was only as I looked around, hoping for some way out of this newest predicament that I saw the Thief, frozen in the ice, nailed to that frigid cross. It was like looking at a bug trapped in amber, preserved for thousands of years.
Although his expression was the same one he’d died with, it seemed to accuse me. His eyes followed me wherever I went. I would have done anything to get away from that accusatory stare, but there was no place to hide.
I tried to move to another part of the frozen hallway, but I was frozen to the floor. My entire left foot was covered in frost, and the frost was spreading. I panicked and tried to yank my foot away. It was no use. I was stuck, and the ice wormed its way up my leg, making me cold at first and then numb.
“What’s happening to me?” I hoped the maze could hear me.
Connie answered. “Once we grow cold, it doesn’t take long for the feeling to go away.”
I knew what this meant. This was complacency freezing me into place. I didn’t want to be numb to the evils that were going on around me. I wanted to feel, to be acutely aware. I didn’t want to be oblivious.
“How does any of this match the story of the crucified thief?” My voice quivered as the ice spread to encase both of my legs.
“There were two thieves crucified with Christ,�
�� Connie said. “Your heart dictated which of these thieves would represent this place.”
Both of my hands froze together, fusing as if encased in cement. I had clasped them together in preparation for prayer.
“This isn’t Paradise, is it? But I want it to be.”
“Do you? The ice suggests otherwise.”
My teeth chattered with each new word. I could feel the ice moving up my chest toward my throat. It wouldn’t be long before even my words were preserved by sub-zero temperatures. “I want to be saved from all of this. I know I’ve sinned, and I would do anything to make that sin disappear. But I can’t.”
“You can.”
I wasn’t able to respond. My entire body was frozen solid, like a hunk of meat thrown into a blast freezer. I couldn’t feel my arms, my legs, my face or even the heart inside my chest. It had stopped beating as it iced over. I hadn’t felt much more than this at Karen’s doorstep. There was not one bit of remorse or hesitation. I was so cold that I couldn’t believe Amy hadn’t frozen to death in the past few weeks. I was frustrated that I didn’t feel anything. One of my tear ducts was covered in hardened sleet and a fine crystalline frost. The other one managed a single tear that slid down my face. The effect of that grief was instantaneous.
The ice melted slowly at first and then faster as the weight of my guilt increased. I had been raised to repent, but like so many other aspects of my life, I had disregarded the teachings of my childhood. My heart might as well have been packed in ice for all of the feeling it used to have. It was warm and beating now; I could feel it.
Icicles crashed to the ground, shattering like delicate glass. The frost on the walls warmed and trickled down to the floor, sluicing away some of my guilt. The frozen bars separating me from the light narrowed and eventually disappeared; an internal heat reduced them to little more than puddles that carved tunnels into the ice beneath my feet. The thief simply faded away into nothingness.
Soon, all the ice was gone and the light was closer now than I had ever seen it. After wiping the tears from my eyes, I walked through the door where the ice had been, and a question sprang to mind.
The Maze - the Lost Labyrinth Page 12
