“Looks like we’re starting the new year where we left off the old one,” my Lord says. (See last month’s conversation) 

I’m too embarrassed to look up from my wicker chair. All I can manage is a “yep.” 

There comes the sense of two eyes darting from side to side beneath a raised eyebrow, but the only words in response are a question: “Guess you were right about that weather too, huh?”

“Well, at least I got something right,” I say with a huff. My inability to see my Lord’s perfect arrangement for me during our last conversation stuns me to silence. 

In normal conversation, two eyes would now widen above gritted teeth – the growing awareness of something being out of place. My Lord patiently tries again: “The Hermitage looks as festive as I would’ve imagined it being. You even have a decorated tree.” The ghost of a smile attempts to show itself with the last line. 

I shrug, looking only as far as the cedar chest. I respond, “The kids insisted on a decoration down here.”

After three attempts, even my Lord lets the silence uncomfortably stretch between us. Yet, the silence must be an eroding one in the presence of my Lord. His invitation chips as slowly or as quickly at my will allows. Still, I fume in the silence for longer than necessary. 

Finally, I blurt, “I’m an idiot!”

“Oh, come on, man,” says my Lord with a long sigh. “That seems a little harsh.” 

I chuckle sarcastically. Then say: “How so? You all but paved a way to a conclusion for the ‘prayer as mystery’ puzzle, and I completely ignored it.” 

“Okay – all right, you clearly didn’t ignore it, or you wouldn’t be this upset,” says my Lord with His shoulders rolled nearly to His ears.

“What difference does that make? I’m still an idiot for missing such an obvious set-up.”

“It makes all the difference,” says my Lord with a comforting shake of His head. “An idiot would’ve come to this conversation without any answer at all. You, on the other hand, have clearly found something, so you were capable – even if a bit dense, so you’re a fool.” 

The steady presentation of those variables with the nonchalant outcome draws a laugh from me. “All right – then, I’m a fool,” I confess. “Then, pardon me for my foolishness.” 

My Lord laughs with me and says, “Yeah, I’ll forgive you, though watching you twitch is a marvelous thing.”

“I’m glad it is,” I say with all my tension evaporated, after a snicker at the thought of entertaining my Lord. 

“So, what do you get,” my Lord asks with an open palm stretched before Him, “when you combine listening and response made in each other’s presence?” 

I push my glasses up my nose in resignation to the question, and I answer, “A conversation – the same form that I’ve been writing in for six months.” 

“By the way, I wasn’t going to bring up that last bit,” my Lord says with a grin. “Still, I had thought that the recent writings might speed the answer, but we have made it to a final answer. Conversation does seem mysterious, right?” 

“How could it not be?” I ask with a shrug of my shoulders. “The reference to my claims in the Creed [Link to the Nicene Creed] come to mind, why would the ‘Creator of all things visible and invisible’ care to converse with me? 

“Then – again, I see such an example on almost every page of Scripture, so why should I think any differently? Still, the fact of the Creator engaging this fool in conversation – right now, in this moment – does strike me as a mystery verging on the miraculous.” 

My Lord pads the air in front of Him and says, “Well, what makes that mysterious?”

I rock forward and backward in my chair; initially, I think the answer is clear, but I hesitate to make sure I have an explanation in my mind. “I look at this way,” I say, “there’s a very clear fact: You welcome conversation with me, yet I have no reason for the existence of that observation. That’s, by definition, a mystery, right?”

“So, the mystery depends on you?” My Lord asks, leaning back in the chair across from me.

 “I don’t know about that necessarily,” I say with my head rolled to one side. “From a practical standpoint, I could agree with You. After all, if it’s not a mystery to me, I am unlikely to journey into it, since I would have the answer already. However, with the given of Your status as Creator of all things, I don’t see any explanation that should require You to converse with me. That would make a general mystery, in my opinion.”

My Lord concedes, “So, more of a logic puzzle for the establishment of a mystery? You have one fact from the Creed, yet there is the other observation from Scripture and experience. Then, those two shouldn’t match, but they do.”

I slowly nod behind closed eyes, and a new silence falls upon the room. A contentment accompanies the quiet this time, like the end of a long journey. My Lord and I have reached a common end, so we relish that while reflecting to see if we’ve missed anything. 

Predictably, I break the silence: “I just thought of one more thing.” My Lord puts a hand over His face and lets me continue: “This conversation wraps up our recent conversations pretty nicely. (To use a seasonal pun.) Don’t You think?” 

My Lord leans His head back while stretching both arms from His side with palms to the air. He says, “You know I like watching you contort yourself. What’ve you got?” 

“Well, we started tonight with a real petition.” I smile and say, “I needed to make a genuine request. Yeah?” 

A nod is all I receive in reply, so I keep going: “Well, that’s our ‘reality of prayer’ puzzle, right? Making petitions is where we began this journey.” (See the first reflection in this series) 

“As I recollect, you have a point.” I imagine a beard-stroke preceding those words from my Lord.

I nod with a clap and say, “Then, we moved into a conversation about the ‘prayer as mystery’ puzzle. So, we used reality as the bridge into the mystery.” 

My Lord returns a nod with lips pressed into a smile as His eyes narrow at me. “Look at that: You can pay attention.”

We both laugh, and He asks, “So, where to next?” 

I bow my head and say, “Wherever You lead.” 

“Well, I certainly look forward to the trip.” 

“As do I, Lord. As do I.”