He grabbed a box of puzzle pieces and took a seat on the uncomfortable chair. He had always liked puzzles, mostly because it gave him something to do while still feeling somewhat productive -- no one ever gets nagged on for working on a puzzle.
The cardboard pieces spilled out onto the table. As he flipped over each one, he thought about how the hundreds of individual pieces would somehow fit together to form the final picture. It was this kind of completeness that truly intrigued him, yet it was this same concept that had nearly brought his faith to a crushing fall.
He still vividly remembered that night, when everything had changed. He remembered running with no destination in mind, nothing but a hunger to escape familiarity. He remembered the darting glances from strangers here and there, wondering what was wrong, while still remaining apathetic enough to keep their distance. But most of all he remembered the one word that would haunt him for days to come -- why.
Nothing happens without a reason, and he had simply longed for a reason, any reason. Something to make things click so his world would make sense again.
He was halfway done with his puzzle. His back ached and his neck was sore, but he couldn't stop. The picture was beginning to take shape.
Days had turned into weeks, and he had grown accustomed to puppeting through the motions. A church service here, a fellowship there, he made his appearances, but deep down inside, he knew his heart had gone cold.
Then one night another word stuck with him -- crucified. Crucified. And just as suddenly as it had appeared, it suddenly vanished. With the thought of someone so righteous being crucified on a cross for a people so evil, any remaining doubt turned to dust. Unswerving anger turned to overwhelming peace. So many times Jesus had been faithful, yet with the first sight of trouble, his desperation for answers had blinded him to his own faith.
He seized the final puzzle piece and tucked it in into its rightful place. He looked down, disappointed. He had spent hours slaving away at the puzzle, only to find that it had several pieces missing.
But then he smiled. Perhaps it was the way it should be -- for now, at least.
And he got up and left the waiting room.
The cardboard pieces spilled out onto the table. As he flipped over each one, he thought about how the hundreds of individual pieces would somehow fit together to form the final picture. It was this kind of completeness that truly intrigued him, yet it was this same concept that had nearly brought his faith to a crushing fall.
He still vividly remembered that night, when everything had changed. He remembered running with no destination in mind, nothing but a hunger to escape familiarity. He remembered the darting glances from strangers here and there, wondering what was wrong, while still remaining apathetic enough to keep their distance. But most of all he remembered the one word that would haunt him for days to come -- why.
Nothing happens without a reason, and he had simply longed for a reason, any reason. Something to make things click so his world would make sense again.
He was halfway done with his puzzle. His back ached and his neck was sore, but he couldn't stop. The picture was beginning to take shape.
Days had turned into weeks, and he had grown accustomed to puppeting through the motions. A church service here, a fellowship there, he made his appearances, but deep down inside, he knew his heart had gone cold.
Then one night another word stuck with him -- crucified. Crucified. And just as suddenly as it had appeared, it suddenly vanished. With the thought of someone so righteous being crucified on a cross for a people so evil, any remaining doubt turned to dust. Unswerving anger turned to overwhelming peace. So many times Jesus had been faithful, yet with the first sight of trouble, his desperation for answers had blinded him to his own faith.
He seized the final puzzle piece and tucked it in into its rightful place. He looked down, disappointed. He had spent hours slaving away at the puzzle, only to find that it had several pieces missing.
But then he smiled. Perhaps it was the way it should be -- for now, at least.
And he got up and left the waiting room.
