One of my favorite authors and preachers, Barbara Brown Taylor, tells a tale about a woman who sets out to discover the meaning of life.  She begins by reading everything she can get her hands on—history, philosophy, psychology, religion.  She learns, but nothing she reads gives her the answer she’s seeking.  She finds other smart people and questions them at length about the meaning of life.  But while the conversations are stimulating and informative, no two people ever agree on the same things.

Finally she sells all her earthly possessions and sets off on a pilgrimage, first to South America, then India.  Everywhere she goes, people tell her they don’t know the meaning of life, but they’ve heard of a man who does—except no one’s sure where he lives.  She asks everywhere, until finally, deep in the Himalayas, an old woman points her to his house—a tiny hut perched high on a mountain just at tree line.  She climbs and climbs, and when she finally reaches his hermitage she’s so cold she can barely scratch at his door.  When a kind-looking old man opens it, she’s about to die of happiness.  “I’ve traveled the entire world to ask you one question,” she gasps.  “What is the meaning of life?” 

“Please come in and have some tea,” the old hermit says.

“No,” she responds.  “I mean, no thank you.  I didn’t come all this way for tea.  I came for an answer.  Tell me, please, what is the meaning of life?”

“We shall have tea,” insists the old man, so she gives up and enters the hut.  Right off she begins to tell him about all the books she’s read, all the people she’s met, all the places she’s been.  The old man listens for there’s no way he could get a word in edgewise.  As she talks, he places a delicate teacup in her hand and begins to pour the tea.  She’s so busy talking she doesn’t notice when the tea cup is full, so the man keeps pouring until the tea is running down the sides of the cup in a steaming waterfall. 

“What are you doing?” she yells when the tea burns her hand.  “It’s full.  Can’t you see that?  Stop!  There’s no more room!”
“Just so,” the man says to her.  “You come here wanting an answer, but what am I to do?  There is no more room in your cup.  Come back when it is empty, and then we will talk.”

      A new convert to Christianity once was asked by a skeptic what he knew about Christ.  “Tell me… where and when and how was he born?”
      “I don’t know,” said the convert.
      “What did he look like?” asked the skeptic.
      “I don’t know.”
      “How many sermons did he preach?”
      “I don’t know.”
      “And how old was he when he died?”
      Again came the answer, “I don’t know.”
      “Well, you certainly know very little for someone who claims to be converted to being a follower of Christ!”
       “That is very true,” said the new convert.  “I hope to learn more about him.  But this much I do know right now:  Last year I was a drunkard.  I was deep in debt.  My family was falling to pieces.  My wife and children dreaded my return from the bars each evening.  But now I am sober; we are out of debt; and our home is a happy one.  All this God in Christ has done for me.  This much I know!”