Questions

I introduced you to my friend Rachel Held Evans in my last post.  I wanted to elaborate on some of the things I’ve learned from reading Rachel’s book and following her blog.

My favorite part of Rachel’s book deals with asking questions.

And yet I’m learning to love the questions, like locked rooms and mysterious books, like trees that clap their hands and fish that climb up cave walls, like mist that clings to the foothills of the Himalayas just like it clings to the Appalachians.  And slowly I am learning to live the questions, to follow the teachings of a radical rabbi, to live in an upside-down kingdom in which kings are humbled and servants exalted, to look for God in the eyes of the orphan and the widow, the homeless and the imprisoned, the poor and the sick.  My hope is that if I am patient, the questions themselves will dissolve into meaning, the answers won’t matter so much anymore, and perhaps it will all make sense to me on some distant, ordinary day.

Those who say that having childlike faith means not asking questions haven’t met too many children.  Anyone who has kids or loves kids or has spent more than five minutes with kids knows that kids ask a lot of questions.  Rarely are they satisfied with short answers, and rarely do they spend much time absorbing your response before moving on to the next "why?" or "how come?"

Psychologists say that the best way to handle children in this stage of development is not to answer their questions directly but instead to tell them stories.  As pediatrician Alan Greene explains, "After conversing with thousands of children, I’ve decided that what they really mean is, That’s interesting to me.  Let’s talk about that together.  Tell me more, please.”  Questions are a child’s way of expressing love and trust.  They are a child’s way of starting a dialogue.  They are a child’s way of saying “I want to have a conversation with you"…

If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that serious doubt—the kind that leads to despair—begins not when we start asking god questions but when, out of fear, we stop.  In our darkest hours of confusion and in our most glorious moments of clarity, we remain but curious and dependent little children, tugging frantically at God’s outstretched hands and pleading with every question and every prayer and every tantrum we can muster , ‘We want to have a conversation with you!’”

For all the years we have been married, Phil has had lots of questions about lots of things we find in the Bible, and things we have learned in church.  He has questions about everything from new Earth vs. old Earth to God’s involvement in our daily lives.  In the early days, whenever he would bring up these questions, I didn’t want to listen to them.  They made me afraid, and I didn’t want to think about what he was saying.  We did not have conversations about them.

In the past 7-8 years, I have changed.  I have begun to deal with questions that have come to my heart instead of just ignoring them or denying them.   I read books constantly that deal with questions of faith and have found many to be helpful resources in strengthening my faith in different areas.  My willingness to entertain questions has led to a rich dialogue with Phil.  We have great conversations on a regular basis (mostly over Mexican food at El Metate). 

It’s taken me all these years to understand this…  that the questions matter… that they don’t bother God…  that He is big enough to handle them…and that He loves the conversation it opens up with me.