Our brains are meaning machines. We are wired in such a way that we have a desperate need to find meaning and make sense of life. Our minds will constantly try to bring meaning to things even when there is no meaning -- especially when we are hurt.
When something happens to us that doesn’t make sense, it rocks our worlds, especially if it violates our beliefs about how life works.
The first time I can remember my world being rocked to the core was in June of 1985. A friend of mine named Tammy died in a senseless car accident. It was the first time that a close peer of mine died and her death pulled the bottom Jenga piece out of my Jenga pile.
If your life is a story, you are somewhere in the middle of the book. There is a past and a future, but in the middle, it is often very confusing. The author Margaret Atwood said it like this:
"When you are in the middle of a story it isn't a story at all, but only a confusion; a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass and splintered wood; like a house in a whirlwind, or else a boat crushed by the icebergs or swept over the rapids, and all aboard powerless to stop it. It's only afterwards that it becomes anything like a story at all. When you are telling it, to yourself or to someone else."
In moments of hurt and pain, our minds try to complete the story in our head so that there is meaning to it. Most likely, it is not a very accurate story. So what is the story? What do we do when life makes no sense?
We’ll be wrestling with these questions on Sunday as we continue our conversation “Jenga: Finding God When The Pieces of Life Are Crashing Down.”