Puzzled, Thrice Daily

I recently bought a jigsaw as a gift. The late lockdown persuaded me that jigsaws are good fun after all. Fine. When I bought this one, I evidently signed up to the company's mailing list. I don’t remember doing so, but I don’t mind being made privy to the odd bargain. Unfortunately, I now receive three emails each day from this company and one other, which I assume to be its subsidiary rather than a rival. That is three PER DAY. So at 10.25, 15.09 and 19.15 yesterday, I was invited to go and buy jigsaws. Even 10ofThose musters only one communication per day, and they have a vast array of titles. Is the world of slow-moving boardgames so volatile and energetic that it warrants so much contact and promotion? There are only so many jigsaws one can buy and complete. The notion that I might buy 21 each week or even be pleased to receive so many reminders is an overestimation of the average Briton’s patience. Still, they who make and sell the puzzles must see things differently. To them, jigsaws are a way of life. Their sales help butter parsnips, clothe children and pay rents. Indeed, the British Council of Jigsawers might look askance at my dismissive attitude toward their sport.

I wonder if this is how the unconverted view we believers. To them, religion is a hobby, a pastime, something that provides an annual carol service or calendar of coffee mornings. But to have it take over your life? Occupy weeknights as well as weekends? Something to be shared and flaunted rather than discreetly contemplated? If your faith is no more than a hobby, you’re not just missing a few pieces, you haven’t even taken them out of the box.

Image by Richard Reid from Pixabay