August 8, 2025
Back in the early days of the COVID lockdown, when no one was going anywhere and we were all looking for new ways to fill extra hours in the day, I started playing a game on my phone for the first time ever. I had avoided the Candy Crush craze and other similar viral games, but for some reason, the puzzle-solving game Two Dotscaught my eye one day, Though it requires some focus, Two Dots is a non-flashy game with a simple concept: there are a limited number of moves to clear ever-changing puzzle boards by connecting dots. Over five years later, and I still play Two Dots for a few minutes almost every evening to wind down before bed.
Will I ever "beat the game" completely? Maybe, but I’m currently on level 5,671 of over 7,000 levels, with new levels constantly being added, so at this pace, I’ve got years of Two Dots enjoyment ahead. And I could have even longer, considering I’ve been stuck on level 5,671 for the past three days with no end in sight. No matter what strategy I try, I just can’t seem to clear it. But here’s what I’ve noticed: for some reason, losing on a level of Two Dots doesn't frustrate me. I don't get annoyed. I simply close the app and try again later. I know the level will still be there, and eventually, I’ll pass it. If I don’t solve it today, I get to try again tomorrow.
I’m not always this patient in life, so it makes me wonder: could this silly little game be a quiet spiritual practice? What if I treated life’s challenges like puzzles to return to later—not failures or crises to fix right away, but simply unfinished for now? Maybe there’s something holy in sitting with what’s unfinished, pausing, and then trying again. In a world that rewards constant productivity and punishes delay, we rarely get reminded that progress can be slow. But some puzzles take time, and some days nothing “clears”, no matter how hard we try. That’s okay. Even Jesus didn't solve every problem the first time through.
My prayer for us this week is that we remember it’s okay to move slowly. To give ourselves permission to pause, to try again tomorrow, and to be just a little more patient - with the world, with others, and maybe most of all, with ourselves. And may we trust that God walks patiently with us, too, through every unfinished puzzle.