What do you do with an uncomfortable question?
I love questions.
It wasn’t always so. As a newbie teacher, questions terrified me. I believed I should know every answer, that “I’m not sure” was a sign of weakness. I needed to be the expert, and experts know everything, right?
I’m not thinking of the sort of simple questions that so frequently pass for discussion. What’s the cube root of 64? How do you do problem 8 in the homework?
I’m talking about real questions, hard questions, the kind that make you scratch your head and wonder why you never thought of that.
When you’re frightened by questions, you do silly things. You fill the air with your own words. You manipulate every interaction to avoid or dismiss uncertainties. You adhere to the trial lawyer’s rule: never ask a question to which you don’t already know the answer.
When confronted with an unanticipated question, you dismiss it, mock the questioner, or make up an answer. Or you just ignore it and say something that has nothing to do with what was asked.
In a classroom that’s afraid of questions, predictable things happen. First, kids stop asking real questions. They quickly learn what’s acceptable, what’s encouraged, and that’s the sort of questions they ask. Makes everyone feel good, as though something really important is happening—a lot like some church conversations.
But they also learn that bizarre questions are a great way to derail the teacher, create chaos, and resist really engaging. They pose questions they really don’t care about, just to see if they can get things off course or get the teacher flustered. Often these are really smart kids who get a kick out of disrupting what they perceive as an orchestrated sham.
One other sad result—kids learn to hide behind questions. They conceal their own fear or laziness with statements framed as questions.
I think these dynamics translate to many of our conversations about God.
And in church?
I’m trying to draw parallels between learning in classrooms and learning about God. So here are a few principles I picked up along the way.
The best teachers know what they know and what they don’t. Kids respect responses like “I’m not sure. Give me some time to think about that. That’s a great question. Tell me more. What do you think? Anyone else got any ideas?”
Tell the truth. Might seem obvious, but kids appreciate honesty. Sometimes the answer to “why do we have to learn this?” is “because you’ll need it in your next math class.” Frank answers earn a lot of credibility.
Ever wondered why this church does communion or baptism or music a particular way? Maybe it’s not a deep theological issue. Maybe it’s a preference, or it’s just the way we do it. That’s okay.
If you want to get real questions, you have to ask them. If every question has a one-word right answer, kids figure it out quickly. They stop asking the messy, inconvenient questions that really matter, or they only ask to resist and disrupt.
As a teacher, questions tell you a lot more than answers. Questions let you know what folks are really thinking and what’s important to them.
The best answer to a question is frequently another question. Clarifying, expanding, gaining insight before responding is okay. Make sure you’re answering the REAL question rather than what you think you heard.
Following Jesus is a journey filled with wonder and awe and mystery. As I discover I become more certain only that I don’t really get it.
Unmerited grace and sacrificial infinite agape, a personal relationship with the Creator of the universe, an invitation to imitate the One who left Heaven and died for me—those are words far beyond my understanding. The best I’ll do on this side of eternity is chip away at the edges of what they really mean.
I’ve learned to welcome real, messy questions. I’ve learned that sometimes the questions matter more than the answers, that sometimes seeking is more important than finding.
I’ve also learned to be skeptical whenever someone claims to know all the answers.
What questions frighten you?
 |
Want to receive free updates? Click below to get Bouncing Back delivered directly to your inbox.  |