Puzzled
(Note: Don't really drive by and look through my windows. That would freak me out.)
It started a couple of months ago when my six-year-old demonstrated a tangible, look-what-I-can-do joy when she completed a 100-piece Hello Kitty puzzle on her own. When we got this revolutionary insight into what she was capable of, I saw it as an opportunity...family bonding without a screen or a need for an annual pass. (Woot. Woot.) So I browsed Amazon.com, ordered a new 500-piece puzzle, called my family in when it arrived and waited to see what would happen. Moths to the flame, they got to work immediately. And so it began.
The completion of the puzzle is always a huge cause for celebration. We literally have "a ceremony" and have to rotate the privilege of who gets to put the last piece in. It's a big deal. A feeling of finality. Wholeness. Accomplishment. An indication that all in the world is right. Until the night IT happened.
IT occurred one night when I was out with a friend for coffee. I came home to some very excited children greeting me at the door chanting "We finished the puzzle! We finished the puzzle!" I excitedly walked with them, hand in hand, to the dining room to see the latest completed masterpiece...a 1000-piece graphic symphony of every imaginable type of noodle. What I saw when I reached the table horrified me. I felt my knees buckling and my lip quivering as I choked through the words,"But there are five pieces missing." Without a care in the world, my oldest, still jubilant at the accomplishment said, "Yeah, we can't find them. But look, it's done!"
Huh? Can't find them? What do you mean you can't find them? What do you mean "But look, it's done!"? Oh my goodness. Is the room spinning?
With shaking hands and trembling voice, I said, "Hey, we have to find the missing pieces, guys. We can't just leave it...undone." My little, freckle-faced son shrugged his shoulder and replied, "Nah, I'm gonna go draw some helicopters," as he walked out of the room. I looked incredulously at my husband who also shrugged his shoulders with an apologetic "What do you want me to do?" look in his eyes. How would life continue? The puzzle wasn't complete. Pieces were missing. I would never have
The next several days were agonizing as the puzzle (sans five pieces) sat on the dining room table, taunting me with "Mwaaah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Look how NOT done I am!" It was torture. I spent collective hours rummaging through kids' pants pockets, the disgusting lint thing in the dryer, and even more disgusting places under the couch cushions. I went through toy bins. I went through boxes filled with pieces from OTHER puzzles. (Dude, that is not fun.) The pieces were gone. Forever maybe. What do I do? There was this huge stress in me as I contemplated my options: 1) Continue looking, maybe forever or 2) break the puzzle up, put the pieces into the box, put it away without ever resolving the issue of the holes and try to get on with my life. The choice was paralyzing... and so it stayed, nagging me, tormenting me from the other room. It was the most miserable, uncomfortable week of my life. (Okay, I might be exaggerating a little bit. But it was pretty bad.)
And then, just like that, we found them. My son triumphantly held them up as he was buckling himself into his car seat one day. The pieces had been under his seat all this time. Mysteriously, as often happens with three-year-old little boys, he had forgotten that he had done something really, really, really naughty like nearly causing me to be committed to some sort of institution by taking the puzzle pieces and hiding them. But I didn't care. He was getting ice cream. The pieces were all there. All in the world was right again. I could move on to another puzzle now, the work could continue, freedom from the incompleteness filling me up.
Whew. Happy ending. Yay.
When I became a Christian 13 years ago I was immediately struck by one particular verse in the Bible that I felt spoke directly to me. The day I read it I underlined it in black pen and wrote in the column, with an arrow pointing directly to it, "Carol Leigh-Ann Reid" because I felt like this verse spelled out very clearly who I was in Christ. (Yes, my first name is Carol. Get over it.)1 Timothy 1:15-16 says this: "Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe in Him and have eternal life."
Worst of sinners. That was definitely me. Saved. Yes, thank the Lord. Shown mercy. Absolutely. Me. Me. Me. I clung to that verse for years and years, living in the joy of the fact that as such a lowly, broken, directionless, messed-up person God still saw a reason to pull me up out of the depths and save me. My identity was in the grace I was shown. And I wanted people I loved to be able to see Christ in me.
But there was a missing piece. Something wasn't complete about my walk with the Lord. I knew it. I could feel it. I was walking through my Christian life looking under couch cushions and through lint screens. What was it? Wasn't the point of knowing Jesus to have peace in an eternal life with Him? Shouldn't it be enough knowing I was saved? My life had been set right. My sin paid for...once..forever..by Jesus. There was tremendous joy in this for me. So why was I feeling the "Mwaaah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Look how NOT done I am!" coming from within myself?
Just recently it has really been coming to me. The pieces, one by one, are coming out from under the carseat of my walk with the Lord thanks to some deep prayer, a helpful tool, and the Holy Spirit's work. I'm starting to get it. What has been missing is my acknowledgement of the second part of that verse.
"But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe in Him and have eternal life."
This grace I have been given isn't just for me to sit around celebrating. It has more purpose than that. It was given to me for a specific reason, to bring glory to God. What has been missing is that as a Christian I have not been fully given-over to Christ for His purposes, but have been more a passive bystander, basking in the sun of forgiveness.
The missing pieces for me didn't start out as answers. They started out as questions. "What am I doing on a daily basis to really, truly bring glory to Christ in a way that leads people to believe in Him?" This question led to more questions.
What, specifically, is God calling me to do for Him?
How should I equip myself?
Who do I demonstrate Christ to?
How do I shape my life to make this a priority?
What about my personality quirks? My strengths and weaknesses?
What about the past experiences that I'm still healing from?
How do I get fully mobilized for Him while trying to be a fully devoted wife and mother to my kids?
One by one, through the Holy Spirit and a pretty amazing study called "The Significant Woman," God has revealed to me the answers to these questions...so pointedly that I've been able to formulate a personal mission statement for my life...one that takes into account that my personality type is akin to an extrovert on steroids, that considers my passion for writing this goofy blog, my deep desire to help women connect the dots to an understanding of Christ in their lives. I've learned that these intricacies of "me" are not a coincidence. They are part of the very purposeful uniqueness He has created me with, a uniqueness that is like a one-of-a-kind puzzle piece for the very specific job He has planned in advance for me to do. I can live a meaningful life mobilized for Him. I no longer have to be a passive on-looker. I no longer have to be all things to all people all the time. I'm free to live the life of purpose I (not somebody else) was designed to live. It is the most freeing, helpful, empowering missing piece I could ever have uncovered in my walk with the Lord.
Have you asked God how He wants to be using you, your talents, your background, your gifts, your passions, your deep desires? Have you asked Him to reveal to you your personal mission as a Christian and asked Him, truly asked Him, to use you to help others come to know Him? Is there something holding you back that you need to pray through? Fears of the unknown? Obstacles that may be real or in your mind? If you haven't gone down this road with the Lord maybe now is the time. Don't pack up the puzzle and continue on without finding the missing pieces. It's just way too good of a deal to let Him put it all together for you.
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For we are God's masterpiece. It is God himself who has made us what we are and given us new lives in Christ; and long ages ago he planned that we should spend these lives in helping others." Ephesians 2:10
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize."
1 Corinthians 9:24
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