Last week was school vacation for our boys and I had a brilliant idea: we could do a jigsaw puzzle together. On Monday morning, in the rain, I went out to the store and bought a 1,000-piece puzzle of a beautiful winter scene and brought it home. We had the border done before lunch and began to fit together the rest. That was twelve days ago, and we still have not finished. It turns out that there is a whole lot of white – snow, roofs, mountains – and the puzzle is hard. Really hard. The boys have given up helping us finish putting all the pieces together and now I am beginning to fear that we will never be able to use our coffee table again.
What seemed at the time like a fun, family bonding activity has become exceeding difficult. As I sit in front of the unfinished puzzle, I feel the frustration well up within me: I know it all fits together, but I cannot for the life of me seem to place any of the pieces. Perhaps I am victim of an elaborate practical joke – I can hear the snickering of the worker at some jigsaw puzzle factory as she throws eighteen unrelated pieces into my box. There are pieces that seem to match the color but do not interlock and others that ‘sort of’ interlock but do not match the color. Has anyone else ever thought how easy it would be if there were numbers, differentiating columns and rows, on the backs of all the puzzle pieces?
Alas, there are no numbers. There is no cheat code. All I have between now and the puzzle’s completion is trial and error. All I have to guide me is the picture on the box (which, in this case, is extremely small of such a large puzzle and cropped on the sides so that it offers no help toward the edges). In my pursuit of my goal I have resorted to a game I like to call, “Is This Right? No. Is This Right? No.” But I am tenacious (a more virtuous word than stubborn) and will one day finish this puzzle, enabling my family to eat once again in the living room.
This puzzle is a lot like my life. It has easily recognizable boundaries. It has a cohesive whole. It is made up of tiny, incomplete glimpses of colors and voids. It is designed so that all the pieces will fit together eventually. It is at times frustrating and at times fabulous. For those blessed enough to realize it, we are given a picture to the finished product for reference. And it is, when completed, a work of art.
While I may not know how all the pieces fit together yet, the one who created the puzzle (and the one who created me) does. I am confident that my God will form my life into a masterpiece, a stunning work of art full of light and shadow. Perhaps He is even using this infernal puzzle to do it.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11