Square Peg–Round Hole (Part 1 of 2)

Before the world of a young child is illuminated by its own imagination, wonder, and all of the other blessings the new brings, the child usually has the opportunity to learn some basic fundamentals. Whether it be from a parent or guardian, most children will learn to crawl before walking under a watchful eye. As a little tyke begins to take interest, the mind unfolds the mysterious, never-before-seen journey.

Puzzling items, such as cut-outs made of wood or plastic, along with blocks that would fit inside of those shapes, were common before small children were able to be handed the electrical devices of today. This little learning tool, I remember, was a catalyst for my own drive to learn more. Intriguing. Educational, for a little babe.

Isn’t it interesting how we never stop pursuing those little interests? We never cease in our own pursuits to understand? To solve?

The inquisitive mind–doing well one moment, then, without warning, falling apart. A challenge such as fitting the peg into the hole becomes an impossibility, opposed to the cinch it had been the day before. For some, the inquisitions of life become obsessions. The obsessive-compulsiveness rears its head, all beginning with a small pursuit to better understand. For others, tasks are taken on and, once executed, the conqueror moves forward. Some people sit at the little cutouts and pass the shapes through the correct holes, over and over. Others try to force pegs that will never fit.

The thinker is formed.

The past several years have been a real challenge. A specific hole and peg (understanding God) had kept me up at night. It befuddled my perspectives and outlooks. It made me feel as though my life was completely incompetent. The shot I was taking at fitting my own pegs was not only a waste, but also a given rise to self-denigration. There was no shape to match, only a man claiming to be God in the flesh (the Way, the Truth and Life). I couldn’t see the cutout (God/Heaven/Eternity), and I had never seen the fitting (Jesus). I only read the book. I only experienced, what I had interpreted as His Holy Spirit, speaking to me. The small, still voice of reason that some call the conscience was saying things that I had never heard before. The heart of me was changing.







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