Connecting the Dots

Proverbs 19:21

The human mind may devise many plans, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will be established.”

Sometimes I look at the options in my life and they seem like a dot-to-dot puzzle with no numbers to guide me. Just an endless sea of dots, a swarm of options and no clear starting and ending point. It’s almost worse than a blank page. I’m left here to sort out what seem like random dots and make sense and order out of chaos.

Doesn’t God Have a Plan for Me?

I don’t know why but many of my friends seem to be going through a rough patch. In my conversations, they say things like, “I’m in a crisis of faith,” or, “I need a break from the church,” or, “what kind of God allows so much suffering in the world?” I’ve had loved ones actually say to me, “I picked the wrong time in history to stop therapy… or doing drugs.” Of course my atheist and secularist friends and family are far beyond that, demanding, “look around and tell me where you see God.” I feel like I’m right there with them some days. For whatever reason, I’m having one of the worst years I’ve ever had, and I’m also here to tell you that I have already had some bad years in the past. Frankly, don’t we all feel like the last several years are a marathon of despair? Our country is divided, the world is at war on many fronts, technology is changing our lives too quickly to know if it is for good or evil, and despite all our modern conveniences everyday life seems harder than ever.

I want to tell you that it’s OK if you feel this way. I might be more concerned if you didn’t feel this way. Many people of great faith have felt this way too. Take Mother Theresa who is famous for her deep faith and commitment to serving the poor as Jesus asked. She often experienced the kind of spiritual numbness I’m describing. Christian mystics name this using a term coined by St. John of the Cross: Dark Night of the Soul. If Mother Teresa felt periods of spiritual desolation, ennui, and even abandonment, what chance do the rest of us have?

We All Go Through It

I am no beacon of Christian faith, let’s be clear. But I want to share this because so many of us seem to be going through it and fear and despair die in the light. It’s important to be honest about depression and failure as much as it is to be honest about our happiness and success. Granted, it’s not anywhere near as fun to talk about. But by sharing, we know we aren’t alone in this spiritually formative process.

Mother Teresa wrote about long periods of doubt and despair in her letters, yet clearly she did not let that affect her dedication to her mission. But it must have been extremely difficult and frustrating. Jesus is clear that one of the ways we commune with him, draw near to him, is through service to the least of us. No one demonstrates that as famously as Mother Teresa, yet she wrote that she often felt loneliness and lack of connection with God.

I don’t know why God can draw so near, and then pull away so greatly. But it is so common in our faith journeys that I’ve come to see it as a kind of faith formation. Somehow, figuring it out requires both that initial blessing of the Holy Spirit as well as living in faith against all odds when you don’t feel the presence of the Holy Spirit. The Israelites traveled for 40 years through the wilderness. Jesus himself was tempted for 40 days in the wilderness. Whatever you think of these stories — accurate history or rhyming mythology — the message is the same. We all enter the wilderness only to emerge stronger, tried and steadfast on the other side.

Joseph Campbell pointed out that all of our myths travel in a particular cycle from home, into the abyss and back. Like Jonah in the belly of the whale we must all fall into that abyss. That abyss may actually be a healthy part of learning to detach from our false selves.

On the other hand, life seems like a random game of cosmic piñata. Sometimes I’m spinning a friend around. Sometimes I’m blindfolded and dizzy. Sometimes I think I may be the actual piñata and taking my blows. And occasionally we even get toys and candy.

My friend Becky recently introduced me to the music of Ryan Ellis, a Christian artist and songwriter who faced a heartbreaking tragedy when he lost his young son. His son, Wyatt, was born prematurely with many health problems from the start. Whatever I am going through today pales in comparison with dealing with the loss of a child.

This level of suffering and grief could have easily ended Ellis’ faith. I know it might have ended mine. Instead, he began writing wonderful songs about the complexity of tragedy in the life of a faithful Jesus follower. How should we respond when life is good, or life is bad? How should we respond when life gives us ascendancy or when life gives us tragedy? How should we respond to God when we feel forsaken and alienated? Ellis answers this in song, “there’s nothing left to do but give you praise.” In the deepest moments of sadness and despair, Ellis is able to say that praise is all he has left. I’m wounded by the beauty of that short phrase. It would be easy to pass off Ellis‘ song as just another praise and worship song, but when you understand the place of grief and tragedy in which they were written, these words become a model of strength and hope to an even greater degree. We must all model faith and hope to each other and the only way to do that is to share our disappointments as much as our successes and then sing praise.

Mother Teresa continued to work in her mission despite her despair. Some of us sing praise, but she praised our Lord by doing His will. She continued to find purpose and meaning and serving others. She lived a kind of faith that was rooted in love for Jesus and went beyond fleeting feelings or our own concepts of right and wrong. Our journey is in darkness and light in varying degrees, and God is ever present through both valley and hilltop, regardless of our emotional state. How should we answer when the world stops making sense? There’s nothing left to do but give Him praise.

Why Can’t I See the Lines?

Life is indeed a dot-to-dot puzzle where the numbers are faded or missing. By God’s grace, I don’t have to draw the picture alone. If I’m patient and prayerful, God seems to whisper the numbers to me. Sometimes the numbers come one at a time and like a dot-to-dot I just have to trust that the path of each line adds up to something interesting and beautiful. Other times — I call these both peak moments and peek moments — God seems to give me a peek at the answer key, and I can glimpse the final picture before I finish. “Oh, it’s an aardvark, my life is an aardvark right now.” Other times fellow Christians help me, “yeah, I drew an aardvark once.”

God knows where the lines should go because God puts the dots there. But God doesn’t want to draw them for us. God lets us draw the lines. I don’t mean this like it’s some sort of test from God. It’s more a matter of this eternal and mysterious dance, where the God who birthed all creation has limited Her omnipotence in order to maximize our free will. She values free will so much in Her creation that She’s willing to let me turn the aardvark into an elephant if I insist.

We don’t always get it right. In fact, I get most things wrong. The things I’ve gotten really right – my family, my marriage, my faith – are all things I came about quite accidentally. Perhaps more accurately I should say providentially. And the things I’ve gotten really wrong are the things I’ve insisted upon in my own dot-to-dot picture rather than contemplating the dots God gave me. I must frequently remind myself that if I’m really off track in my picture, God might have to cover up or even erase some of the other dots so I don’t get even more confused. I never feel prepared when God removes those dots on which I based my plans, dots that seemed so important at this moment in my picture. Paradoxically, I’m often left feeling shattered and yet somehow resolved. When life gives you a single dot—cry a little—then get out your crayon and draw your line my people. The good news is that God’s dots can make multiple beautiful pictures. God works with you, there isn’t a single right answer. But it requires a lot of faith, a lot of listening, and most of all a lot of patience.

You might argue that we’re just connecting dots on our own and then looking back on our lives inventing patterns that were never there. Like John Nash, the protagonist subject of A Beautiful Mind, we make connections to soothe our overactive anxieties. It is deep within our human psyche to see patterns that may or may not be there. Our very existence depends on it. How did we find food without a daily exhaustive search? Which animals should we avoid on the plains? Pattern seeking is deeply ingrained in our evolutionary successes. But just because we can’t help but seek out patterns doesn’t mean the patterns aren’t also actually there. Or more trenchantly as Kurt Cobain sang, “Just because you’re paranoid don’t mean they’re not after you.” Unlike the work of Ryan Ellis, I don’t recommend most Kurt Cobain songs for your worship teams.

I’m Just Trying to Live Like it All Makes Sense

Arthur Schopenhauer said that at a certain point in our lives, we look back at how these random threads and roads seem to end up with a greater purpose, as if our lives had been written by a great author. I’m not here to argue Schopenhauer’s views on free will, nor defend Schopenhauer, who was by some accounts an angry, misogynistic drunk. Chalk it up to a lack of free will, or the illusion of our own beautiful minds seeing patterns where they don’t exist. But I often feel like a character in a darkly humorous novel.

Unlike Schopenhauer, who more often than not leaned into his existential despair, I don’t think God has fully scripted our lives. God is more like a really seasoned improvisation partner. We aren’t just seeking to make patterns out of nonsense, nor are we automatons being forced onto stage by a tyrannical God. God is both a loving parent and an omnipresent mind, a creator who wants to see creatures cocreate. God gives and takes in love.

Let me challenge you to believe that your mind does indeed see a pattern beyond coincidence not just seeing patterns as a way to assign order in a disorderly world, but to shine a light beyond our own vision. The dots indeed imply lines. Regular readers will know that I am far more influenced by Kierkegaard than by Schopenhauer, so it won’t surprise you that my advice is that it is worth living your life as if you have great faith, even when you don’t feel it. Following Jesus is what I want this life to be about even if it were false, the novel should be exactly like it seems, and like Kierkegaard I think we can only find meaning in our lives when we make that leap. (Please do not fear dear reader, I still also believe Jesus is the most truthful revelation of God in history).

Do we risk the possibility of interpreting low probability coincidences with an abnormal cause and effect. In other words, do we think the dots make a picture when they’re really just a pile of random dots? Of course, and I do it weekly if not daily. I am human. I love conspiracy theory rabbit holes, I read horoscopes, I try to see God’s will in the smallest of things like a stubbed toe, I look for signs in the weather, and I have a full assortment of superstitions, lucky charms and other bizarre practices like knocking on wood. One of my most human qualities is that I suffer from confirmation bias, or believing that my current dot-to-dot should look a lot like my previous dot-to-dot. I’m drawing lines all over the place. But despite all of these reasons to doubt our own sanity, we can also embrace the stunning possibility that a low probability coincidence is pointing to a new reality that exists beyond our current world view. God really is up to something in our lives even when it seems like random static and noise.

Maybe that is exactly the purpose the Lord has in all the many dots of our lives. God wants nothing more than to let us find the patterns and cocreate our pictures, our lives and our world. In those dark and lonely moments, do your prayerful best to draw one more line.