Lost in the Labyrinth

“When they inquire into (doctrines like predestination), they are penetrating the sacred precincts of divine wisdom. 

He who rushes with carefree assurance breaks into this place, he will NOT succeed in satisfying his curiosity, will enter in an inextricable labyrinth - from which there will never be an exit" 

— John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion 

John Calvin’s warning is not only about doctrine—it’s about presumption. It’s about the restless human impulse to pry into divine mysteries with tools that were never designed to open them. Reason is a gift, but when it loses humility, it becomes a hammer striking at heaven’s door.

Calvin calls that place a labyrinth—a word that feels strangely ancient yet more common than we realize. We, too, wander corridors of our own making: endless feeds, shimmering notifications, the pixelated light of unending opinion. The labyrinth is no longer carved of stone; it glows.

We live in the age of thinking with our eyes.

We scroll, scan, react, and decide—rarely slowing to think. Truth is no longer weighed; it’s felt. Emotion is the compass. Algorithms become our priests. We confuse access to information with possession of wisdom.

Calvin warned that curiosity, unmoored from revelation, doesn’t lead to understanding but confusion. And we see it now—whole generations dizzy in digital corridors, bumping into mirrored walls of their own reflection.

A Parable

There once was a man who entered a great maze of glass, drawn by the promise that at its center he would find “Understanding.” The corridors were bright—lined with moving images that shimmered like light through water.
Each screen spoke softly: “Come this way. See more. Know more.”
He obeyed. He saw news, opinions, beauty, outrage, endless reflections of faces—most of them his own.

The deeper he went, the more the images multiplied. They began to speak in his voice, echoing his thoughts but slightly changed, shaped by the maze itself. The man smiled; he liked the sound. He followed his own echo deeper in.

At last he reached a corridor where all the lights bent inward. He stretched his hands to steady himself—but the walls were mirrors, and the mirrors moved. For the first time, he realized he had never left the entryway; the maze had folded around him.

Then came a whisper—not from a screen, but from somewhere behind him.
“Turn around.”

He hesitated. The whisper came again.
“Turn.”

When he finally did, the light changed. A single narrow door appeared—simple wood, unlit. He stepped through, and behind him the entire labyrinth dissolved like smoke. Outside was quiet and morning coolness and the steady sound of running water. He fell to his knees, not in confusion, but in gratitude.

Every age builds its own labyrinth. Ours just happens to be digital, fast, and addictive. But the core warning remains: curiosity without humility leads not to enlightenment, but to exhaustion.

We cannot scroll our way to wisdom, or feel our way to truth. We need a thread—a Word—to guide us through.

Calvin’s labyrinth was theological. Ours is cultural. Yet both have the same exit: reverence before revelation, trust before speculation, and the courage to turn around when every impulse says, “Keep going.”

Because the only way out of the maze of self is the door of surrender—the way, the truth, and the life.

Song Link: Lost

Verse 1

I chased the light through a million screens, Every glow a promise of truth unseen, But the walls just mirrored my own disguise, And the voice I heard was my own reply. Pre-Chorus Every corridor kept turning in, Echoes louder than where I’d been, Eyes wide open, heart grown numb, Dizzy from all I’ve become. Chorus I’m lost — in the maze I made, All reflections, no escape. The farther I go, the less I know, A prisoner of my own glow. But in the silence, I heard You call — “Turn around, before you fall.” I was lost… Till I turned and saw the cross. Verse 2 I thought I’d think my way to peace, But wisdom whispered, “Be still, cease.” Every answer I could name Was smoke and glass in a shifting frame. Pre-Chorus I mistook the spark for fire, Confused the feed for something higher. Now every truth feels pixel-thin, And I can’t tell where I’ve been. Chorus I’m lost — in the maze I made, All reflections, no escape. The farther I go, the less I know, A prisoner of my own glow. But in the silence, I heard You call — “Turn around, before you fall.” I was lost… Till I turned and saw the cross. Bridge All these lights, but I can’t see— I traded depths for clarity. All these signs, but none are true— Till the dark was pierced by You. Chorus I was lost — in the maze I made, All reflections, no escape. But grace broke through the mirrored maze, And love rewrote the path I strayed. Now every wall begins to fade— I’m found in You, no longer afraid. I was lost… But now I’m found.