Look Up from the Puzzle
- Andrew Eddins
- Oct 3
- 3 min read
Recently, my three-year-old son discovered the magic of puzzles. Thirty-piece sets, bright animal pictures, little cardboard enigmas that stretch his focus and patience.
To my surprise, I’m not the only one teaching during puzzle time—God has been teaching me. Two truths keep surfacing:
1. God Often Helps with Questions Instead of Answers
When we sit down with the puzzle, the facts are obvious.
So I bite my tongue. Inside, I’m screaming: “Buddy, the flamingo legs go BELOW the flamingo body! You’ve got the right piece, just rotate it!”
That’s when I realized we face two different but equally difficult challenges.
For him, it’s competency: Can he figure it out?
For me, it’s control: Can I resist taking over?
And isn’t that life? We stare at the chaotic puzzle of our lives—jobs, health, family, dreams—and wonder how to piece it together.
Like my son, we eventually hit a wall. We can’t find the right piece. We’re frustrated. We half-believe the manufacturer forgot to include it. We want God to swoop in and fix it…but we also want the satisfaction of doing it ourselves.
So how does a loving Father help without overriding his child’s will?
By asking questions.
Instead of dropping answers, I guide my son with questions:
“What pieces do we already have in place?”
“What part of the elephant is missing?”
“Why do you think this is hard right now?”
The questions don’t give him the solution, but they gently point him toward it.
And I think that’s exactly how God works with us.
Take Job. He had it all—health, wealth, happiness—and lost it in a blink. He demanded answers from God. But instead of a neat explanation, God gave him seventy-seven questions: Were you there when I laid the earth’s foundation? When I painted the stars? When I made the platypus?
In the end, Job didn’t get answers; he got an encounter. “My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you” (Job 42:5).
C.S. Lewis imagines a similar moment in Till We Have Faces, when Orual finally meets the god who had been silent her whole life:
“I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?”
God doesn’t leave us empty-handed. He gives us Himself. And along the way, He gives us questions—because questions grow us.
2. The Goal Is the Relationship, Not the Task
Every parent knows: our deepest desire isn’t just that our kids mature; it’s that our relationship with them matures.
God designed it the same way with us.
He’s not just after our problem-solving skills. He’s after our hearts. He wants us to learn that life’s challenges are meant to be faced with Him. Not solved neatly and quickly but redeemed by His presence.
This is why David could say in Psalm 23, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Evil hadn’t vanished. The valley of shadow of death was still there. But God’s presence rendered the evil insignificant.
At the puzzle table, my son is focused on the task. But my focus is on him. I love watching him work. I delight in him, cheer for him, and silently wish the moment could last forever.
The puzzle is secondary. My child is primary.
The same is true of God. One of the many names of Jesus, “Immanuel,” doesn’t mean “God accomplishes for us.” It means “God with us.” His with-ness is the gift.
His with-ness is enough.
Look Up from the Puzzle
Life will always feel like a giant puzzle—missing pieces, frustrations, unsolved questions. And yes, puzzles matter. Problems matter. But what matters more is our awareness that there is Someone Else across the table with us.
There is Someone across from you, smiling at you, delighting in you. He won’t force the pieces into place, but He will ask you questions, guide you gently, and remind you that the goal was never just solving the puzzle.
The goal was always Him.
So maybe the invitation today is simple: Look up from the puzzle. Notice Him noticing you. And then smile back.
