I’m not good at asking questions. I think it stems from being an oldest child. I like knowing everything, and if I don’t know everything, it seemed better to pretend I knew, and figure it out as I went along, rather than appearing to be slightly less competent. I’m good at pretending I know stuff. That’s probably why I write. It serves me well as a mom, though. Not so much as an employee or a wife or a student or a friend.

Kids ask questions. They want to know stuff. I like knowing stuff, but sometimes prefer to live with my own assumptions. Maybe I think I’m smart. Maybe I think asking questions is childish.

There are some questions that shouldn’t be asked. Asking a woman who is somewhat round in the middle, “When are you due?” is one. “What’s wrong with that guy? Why does he look like that?” should probably never be belted out in the checkout aisle.  I guess there’s an appropriateness to questions. Perhaps some discretion.

My kids ask me hundreds of questions. They say the average 4 year old girl asks about 300 questions a day. So, since I have a 3 year old and a 5 year old, both girls, I feel like I field almost a thousand questions daily. (Except days they go to school; I’m sure that saves me like almost a third of their daily questions.)

Good lord. Spring break is coming soon. Send chocolate.

Either way, there’s a fear aspect of not asking a question. I was reading this yesterday and have been wondering about it ever since.

Mark 9: 30-32

They left that place and passed through Galilee. Jesus did not want anyone to know where they were, because he was teaching his disciples. He said to them, “The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men. They will kill him, and after three days he will rise.” But they did not understand what he meant and were afraid to ask him about it.

We’re heading into Easter; this coming Sunday is Palm Sunday.  This is happening not long before that. On this side of the Easter story, what Jesus said is pretty clear.

Why do you think those guys were afraid to ask what Jesus meant?

They’d been hanging out with him for quite a while. He actually retreated with them for the express purpose of teaching them. That sounds like a pretty ideal time to ask for an interpretation.

But let’s make it a little more comparable to the every day.

Suppose you’re at work; there’s a leadership development class that they’ve pulled a handful of employees into. The room is full of the ones they “see potential in” to become management sooner or later. You’re pretty glad to be included, and you’re learning a lot. There are about a dozen of you, so it’s a pretty intimate setting. You’re eating lunch together, enjoying box lunches of sandwiches and chips, and by some strange miracle the pickle juice hasn’t seeped into the corner where your sandwich is.

The CEO of the company has been talking to you all about his vision for the future, how your place is vital in the mission–before long you will have your company’s specialty sprockets in every home and retail store.

Then he starts telling you, with a faraway look in his eye, “Listen, your leader is going to be betrayed into legal arbitration. They’ll bankrupt him, indict him, and kill him. But in three days, he’ll be back.”

Uh… That’s weird.
The company sounds kind of doomed. Maybe I should spruce up my resume.
He can’t be serious; maybe it’s figurative? What does he mean?

You do a sideways glance to your friend. She looks just as weirded out as you. What kind of question do you ask about that, anyway?  “So, does that mean we’re going under?” “What’s the plan for next month?” “Um, kill?”

No, those aren’t the questions you ask.
Nobody wants to ask dumb questions. It’s better to worry and wonder, anyway, right? He doesn’t like his authority or intelligence questioned–don’t want to rock the boat there. Everyone will look at me like I’m the idiot who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

In contemplating this whole situation–the one with Jesus, not with the boss–I realized that I frequently stop short of asking Jesus questions.

Why?

It could be false piety. I don’t want to question God. He knows best, after all. Don’t dare ask what he means when he says something. Just accept it. Don’t wanna make him mad. (Have you found that people who are pretty confident don’t mind questions? It’s the insecure who don’t like to be questioned.)

It could be pride. I am already content with my own answer, no matter the accuracy. If I’m wrong, that’s awkward. I don’t want to have to change my mind, least of all change my behavior. I like things just the way they are, thank you. I’d hate to have to repent of anything.

It could be selfishness. If I ask Him something, I might have to respond, or (gasp) obey Him. That means I’d have to not do what I want right now. “Yeah, Jesus, I have full lives on Candy Crush. That takes like several hours to build up, so you can just hang tight. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

It could be straight up fear. What if I don’t like the answer? Or the answer is too hard?

What if he answers with another question? (Don’t you hate that?)

What if he doesn’t answer? What if I don’t recognize his answer? Could it be that I just don’t really believe that He cares enough to speak to me? Or maybe He just doesn’t speak any more? Or maybe He isn’t even there?

Maybe I just don’t want to engage in conversation. That relationship takes a lot of work, you know. After all, He’s just the one who knows me best, the sovereign king of the universe. Only the one who has provided what I’ve needed, right when I’ve needed it, every time. Just the one who lifts my head when I’m discouraged, and fills my cup to overflowing. He’s only the one who set the earth spinning, and chose the day I’d be born on it. He’s only the one who stumbled the rough streets with a heavy wooden cross on his bloody back, toward his execution, being jeered at the whole way, yet in joyful anticipation of allowing me to ask Him questions. That’s all.

I find it interesting that one of the last questions Jesus was asked before his betrayal , in fact, about his betrayal, was asked by “the disciple Jesus loved” (John). Questions are easiest asked when there is love and trust. The best questions reflect a relationship; they are thoughtful, sometimes whispered, sometimes they come when the lights are off and all is quiet. Sometimes questions come out of sheer curiosity: How does that work? Sometimes the questions are too painful to put into words, so they’re just wept.

Go ahead and ask the questions.