There have been two puzzles in progress on our kitchen table for the past few days; what began as a friendly competition has turned into a mindless task for every casual visitor to our abode. One puzzle was finished in a day, the other, more difficult, still barely has a border completed. Last night he handed me a piece and told me he'd been looking for its rightful home for twenty minutes and still couldn't find it. I took it and began my quest with a little less gusto than he had for his, but still couldn't find its interlocking counterparts. It just didn't seem to fit anywhere.

Sometimes I feel like there are things in me, like that piece of the puzzle, parts that we know must fit somewhere but seem to be ambiguously floating around with no certainty in sight. We spend forever trying to figure out, analyze, discern, where that feeling comes from and how to work it into our sanctification process, and find ourselves at a loss.

I've been thinking about the weak and the wise things of the world, the things that we know must interlock, must work for us and yet don't. I've been thinking about things held to tightly and principles grasped with fervency. I've been thinking about parts of my identity that I know belong, but just don't work with everything else. Sections of my life that help or hinder me, depending on my emotional and spiritual status at the time.

And the more I think, the more I realize that life, like the puzzle, can't be finished and understood in an afternoon; and it requires the presence of more than one person to complete it. Sanctification, in all its glorious personal dependence on God, is actually a communal project. I'm lost without you.

So, there's a puzzle happening at our house. One on the table and one in flesh and blood. And I could use some help.