Asking Questions

I haven't written anything in quite awhile. Almost a year. On one hand, I have had no desire. ZERO. At the same time, I have recently begun to feel like a part of me is missing. Like some part of me is starving. I've had a hard time wrapping my head around it.

I recently started reading Reagan on Leadership: Executive Lessons from the Great Communicator, by James Strock. Ronald Reagan is my favorite President for more reasons than I care to go into in this post. That said, part of why I have always held such admiration for him was his ability to communicate the right things in the right way at just the right time. In his book, Strock talks about how Reagan was determined to "master every medium" of communication. As I reflected on this, I realized that when I was writing frequently, it was also sharpening me not only in my preaching or public speaking, but even in my interpersonal communication, whether with my wife and kids, our staff, or even the guy behind me in line at the store. When I write, I benefit, even if no one else does. So...here I am. Writing.

As I've worked through the puzzle of wondering about the drought, I've never been satisfied with the idea that I 1) was just being lazy, 2) lost the discipline to write, 3) didn't have the time, or 4) that I had run out of things to say. That last one is laughable, I know. So what's the deal? Is there some greater force at work against me, within me? Some complex, psychological reason behind this? I don't think so. What I think - as dumb as it sounds to me as I think it and type it - is that I just got sick and tired of asking questions.

Asking questions is exhausting.

Asking better questions can be even more exhausting.

And asking really good questions is the genesis and catalyst behind really good writing.

Asking questions - really good questions - when you really think about it - doesn't pair well with self-centeredness. Asking good questions requires thought. Asking great questions and really wanting great answers demands a heart ready to listen. Until recently, I haven't been very good at listening.

The last year of my life felt like a roller coaster in the rain, that someone else strapped me into and made me ride. For the first time in 5 years, I began fighting anxiety and depression again. There were some really rough days. There were probably even more sleepless nights. There was counseling. There were books. There were phone calls with friends. There were prayers and tears in the floor of the closet. There was scripture reading, scripture memorizing, scripture meditating - hours and hours searching the scriptures. There was medicine. But as I look back, what there weren't a lot of...were questions.

Why wasn't I asking questions?

That's a great question. Ironic. Isn't it.

I think we get so hung up on not questioning God - you know, the "God is sovereign and his ways are not ours, so you may never know why!" type questions - that we just stop asking questions altogether. 

Just a thought: Even though a child can't begin to comprehend where water comes from, he will still ask his mom or dad for a drink. He doesn't know if Mom's a genius, but he knows Mom is good.

I spent more this time this past year kicking myself and beating myself up wondering why and how I was feeling what I was feeling than I was quietly asking the Lord, "What do you want to show me in this place? Will you show me more of you in this valley? Father, why am I walking through this?" 

Why am I reluctant to ask my Heavenly Father questions? Big, hard questions?

There's more talk than we know what to do with about "If my kid asks me one more question my head's going to explode!" We know. Your kid asks lots of questions. They all do. My son is 13 and he's now a professional. He could be an attorney. He's that good. However, I've recently lost any frustration with his incessant questioning. Here's why. All of Nathan's questions begin with the same thing: the word "Dad". Every time my son asks me a question I'm reminded that I'm his dad. I'm reminded that he's my son. I'm reminded that it's somehow ME that he's still looking to for answers. It probably won't always be that way. So right now, I welcome it. I will cherish the questions. Sons and daughters ask their dad questions. That's how it works. And I hope those questions get bigger and go deeper as they grow up and get older. I hope the questions never go away.

Are you asking questions?

Your Heavenly Father can handle them. All of them. You may not be able to handle or comprehend the answers, but He loves it when you & I ask Him. Every time we run to Him, we're reminded that He's our Father. That we belong to Him. That He's the one with all the answers. He's given us His Spirit and His Word, that we can seek Him, find Him, and know Him. He's a good Father. 

Go ahead. Whatever it is...ask him.

Psalm 17, Psalm 40