I believe that I’m not unlike most folks, my age,
who have spent a great deal of life asking questions. In retrospect, it seems
that more than a few of my plaguing inquires were probably the wrong inquiries.
In fact, more than a few of my questions were probably even unanswerable. But
it took me a while to be able to admit there existed such distinctions. When was
a child and inquiry was my way of gaining a handle on the world around me, I was
convinced that every question was right to ask, and every inquiry deserved an
answer that satisfied. I suppose there is still some truth to that comforting
thought; because questions are valid and answers should satisfy, I think. But
later, as social pressure began to stress conformity and asking questions
carried the risk of embarrassment, I learned to repress my inquisitiveness. Not so much, any more. Once in a while, I’ll
get that evil eye from Bettyann when I begin to ask 'none of my business' questions of
someone. On other occasions, I get the sense that a person is a bit astonished; indicated by a stammering and surprised stare. What is it that I see as value
in my inquiring mind that offers the ready assurance of 'there are no wrong
questions!' I don’t believe it means that I cannot ask an
unanswerable question or inquire in such a way that simply fails to cohere with
reality. Almost daily, I ask Bettyann, "Why do you say my pants and shirt do not match? I'm still seeking the answer of the other day, sitting on the ATV, looking at the voluminous clouds rolling in, as I asked how much time is in
the sky? I can only imagine a great number of the questions I ask along the way are in
fact quite similar.
Now, when it comes to faith, I am actually
instructed in my Christian faith to carry into my discipleship some of the
qualities I held as a child. I wonder, is today's child's passion for inquiry one of
the traits Jesus intended in His directive: "I tell you the truth, unless
you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of
heaven?" Is my expectation of every inquiry capable of
being answered to my seventy-four old satisfaction or even answered at all, a quality He is
encouraging me to keep?
Regardless, Jesus readily received the questions
of those around Him, whether they were asked with ulterior motive or childlike
abandon; no inquiry was turned away. Of course, this is not to say that He
always answered, or that He always satisfied the questioner. Actually, more
often than not, He replied with a question of His own. "Who gave you the
authority to do what you are doing?" the scribes asked. Jesus replied,
"I will ask you one question; answer me and I will answer you. Did the
baptism of John come from heaven or human origin?" Knowing they were stuck
between conceding to Jesus's authority and risking the wrath of the crowd, they
refused to answer. So Jesus refused as well.
Hopefully, beyond learning that questions, like
words, can be used as ammunition, I have also learned as I’ve grown from an
inquiring child to a questioning elder that questions are not deserving of
satisfactory answers simply because they are asked. I have to admit that there
are some questions that simply can't be satisfied. And yet, at times of late I
scarcely take this wisdom with me into the realms of faith and belief. Standing
before You, Father, Whose wisdom is said to be many-sided, I somehow and
sometimes feel that You can and must answer my every inquiry. But I’m finding
that questioning The all-knowing does not presuppose that the question itself
was even rational. In fact, I see where Jesus's reactions to the questions
around Him seem to verify the strong possibility that many of my questions miss
the point entirely.
So what does it mean if many of my great questions
of where do I go from here, or ultimate reality and theological inquiry are as
unanswerable as my childhood wanting to know; if Jesus lives in my heart how can
He live in my teacher’s heart? First, I’ve learned the question isn't wrong in
the sense that it has no meaning for me. Nor does a question's
unanswerability mean I must walk away from the inquiry entirely disheartened.
On the contrary, even in questions that cannot be answered there rings the
promise of an Answerer who satisfies. "No eye has seen, no ear has heard,
no mind has conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him." Jesus
may not have a physical address, but His dwelling is nearer and greater than I
could possibly ever imagine.
Aw! The flashback comes of me riding with my grandfather in the '34' Ford sedan across the Ft. Steel Bridge, crossing the North Platte river, when I was six or seven or eight. It was the desire to know; the curiosity that formed the
question, and the assumption that my grandfather, who knew everything, indeed held the answer; was a phenomenal force that compelled me to ask in the first place. It is this
compulsion to know that Jesus encouraged in every questioner, however He chose
to answer them. Perhaps He knew that in becoming like a child who longs to see, I
would be moved further up and farther in to the kingdom and closer to the One
who prepares me for it. Inquiry is not in opposition to faith; it is faith's
road to the answerer.
Father, God, thank You for bring to my attention
that one of the first questions the disciples asked Jesus was, "Where do
you live?" He simply answered, "Come and see." Amen
