gospel of questioning

I didn’t grow up asking hard questions.

I didn’t have to.

I was in a loving home.  I was one of the brightest students in my class.  I was one of the best athletes.  I was popular.  Things tilted my way. 

I didn’t really face or ask life’s toughest questions until things started to tilt against me.

Death came.  And not just death, but undeserved death.  Death of those too young with too much to live for.  Heartache came.  And then came again.  And again.  Depression came.  Anxiety came.     

And a funny thing happened.  The harder my heart grew towards God, the softer it grew towards others. 

In Tim Keller’s book ‘The Reason for God,’ he states, “People who blithely go through life too busy or indifferent to ask hard questions about why they believe as they do will find themselves defenseless against either the experience of tragedy or the probing questions of a smart skeptic.

Life’s tragedies often give birth to life’s medication: the loving heart and sympathy/empathy to another. 

I didn’t grow up asking hard questions.

I do now.

And as I do, my heart still gets colder.  And then warmer.  And then colder again.  It’s like a workout, pumping one way and then pumping another.  But what it always gets, is stronger.  More compassionate.  More graceful.

The more questions I ask.  The less answers I have.  The more grace I give.