puzzled 'til my puzzler was sore

Today, a great many busy little thoughts have fluttered about my brain like caged butterflies.

You see, after some much-needed friend time this weekend, I have appropriately broken down the vast mysteries of the cosmos and spent quite a bit of time reading. While this practice is cathartic, even healing, I realized lately I’ve been feeling a lot like the Grinch.

Yes. That Grinch. Hear me out, but understand that while I am (a) not green (although I AM all about recycling) and (b) pretty sure that Christmas is about a whole lot more than presents, I am (c) just as puzzled as Dr. Seuss’ famously grinchy fiend.

Sometimes, even I can’t take the level of analysis I’m capable of. My puzzler was sore.

I think I’ve been working up to this state of soreness. I’ve been craving simplicity in the last few months. Mostly just seeking quiet spaces and dreaming of how different things could be: a home in the middle of nowhere; one type of bread to choose from at the store; only the fewest of friends to concern myself with.

I think this urging is largely reactionary. Most likely it’s a rebelling of the excesses of my life and a longing for the way I was made in God…but I’m really trying to not rip it apart too much.

See, that would be contributing to the soreness, wouldn't it?

There isn’t a good way to wrap my arms around all that I’ve seen. Whether Kenya or my past or the unknown future, I’ll never achieve this "total enlightenment" that I seem to crave. I think as Christians, so intune with God through prayer and scripture, we're easily led to the idea that we can achieve total consciousness. I know I can be easily led that way, chasing consciousness until my body is sore, my mind weary and my joy robbed.

So sometimes, the best way to show God that I care to understand is to just. slow. down. for. a. while. Right?

Isn't it infinitely more pleasing to God to just be content already? To just be in love with the day in front of you? To turn the puzzler down a notch or two…not to be numb, but to understand that there are things that we just can’t know. Maybe it is.

As I wrapped these thoughts up, I ran across this on today’s Sacred Space and as usual, they nailed it:

“We cannot understand or imagine God, but we can open ourselves to God in silence and wait for his gift.”

Perhaps they should have added, “for this will lead to a properly healthy puzzler.”