The Big Questions

I’m a questioner. I knew this without putting a label to it, but Gretchen Rubin, in her book The Four Tendencies, labeled it for me and offered me confirmation. Questioners are happy to do anything for anyone, but first we must be assured it makes sense. We have to know we’re making the effort for a reason. This annoys my obliger husband, who follows rules because the rules are there to follow.

Sometimes, though, we questioners can ask too much, fear too much, make too many excuses for our hesitation. We lean—hard—toward perfectionism. If we can’t assure ourselves the next step won’t fail, we’re reluctant to take it. We always want to know if there might be a better choice.

Questioners suffer a lot from buyer’s remorse. We wonder if we should have booked that vacation when money is tight. We doubt that expensive dress will make us feel as good as the price suggests. We waver between all the shoulds and coulds and what-might-be’s. We fear regret because it smells like failure.

Paralysis overtakes questioners. Jesus healed several paralyzed people in his tenure on earth, and I believe he wants to heal us questioners too. I believe he wants to free us to run with the horses (Jeremiah 12:5), keep in step with the Spirit (Galatians 5:25), and make any other move that releases us from dithering over which option will result in the very best possible outcome.

When I look at people in the Bible confronted with difficult decisions, I’ve started trying to imagine their thought processes. What questions did they ask? What fears did they swallow? How did they avoid paralysis and make a move, even when uncertainty fogged the situation?

Abigail must have wondered whether what she was about to do was wise—disobeying her husband and taking a peace offering to David after Nabal had deeply offended the future king (see 1 Samuel 25). She surely questioned herself multiple times as she prepared to set out with the goods. What if her attempt to appease Nabal failed? What if her abusive husband discovered her? A best possible outcome seemed dubious, and inaction must have felt safest.

Mary must have wondered if she should be helping her sister prepare dinner or set the table (Luke 10:48–52). She undoubtedly questioned whether the disciples would accept her, a woman, learning at Jesus’s feet. Wasn’t she likely to fail at this pursuit, and wouldn’t she be safer staying in the kitchen?

Peter, though we have evidence that his impulsivity often precluded thinking, must have considered some questions before he jumped out of the boat and into the storm (Matthew 14:25–31).

These people, and my own life experiences, have taught me to narrow my focus to a few targeted questions that put things into perspective. I’ve come down to two questions I ask myself when paralysis hits:

• Will I ever have the chance to do this again?
• Will I regret not doing it now?

Mary knew, though she must have felt a bit guilty for leaving her sister alone in the kitchen, that she wouldn’t have the chance to sit at Jesus’s feet and learn with the rest of the disciples forever. She knew she would never, ever regret doing so.

Peter knew he wouldn’t get another chance to walk on the water to Jesus. He also knew he might regret it—he might drown—but he would regret never taking the chance more. In later years, wouldn’t he wish he had thrown his leg over the side and gone for it?

Abigail knew her chances were few and her stakes huge, but only she had the opportunity to change disaster if she stopped asking questions and started acting.

So when confronted with the chance to fly to England for a special event (twice!), I asked the questions. Then I booked the tickets. When deciding between work (never-ending but necessary) and a spontaneous trip with one of my soon-to-fly-away-from-home daughters, I asked the questions—and I knew where to spend my time.

The questions are good for such big-ticket items, but they’re good for daily items too. When the day’s adventures (or more likely, work) beckon me to start early and get more done, I ask the questions: Will I get another chance today to read Scripture and pray to my Father? Or will the day get away from me as it usually does, the urgent flooding out any memory of making prayer time? Will I regret if I don’t do it now? Will I ever regret that I did?

Will I regret not talking to that woman who looks like life is wearing her thin today? Will I get another chance to say a kind word to that dad who’s struggling with three kids and a Mount Everest of groceries? Will I regret not taking the time to write in my gratitude journal, when I know the attitude boost it gives me? Will I get the chance again to leave a kind note for this hotel maid?

Will I regret not taking the wild, free adventure God wants to lead me on each day because I spent too much of my life looking for the perfect choice?

These are questions to think about as a new year begins.

Jill Richardson is a writer, speaker, pastor, mom of three, and author of five books. She likes to travel, grow flowers, read Tolkien, and research her next project. She believes in Jesus, grace, restoration, kindness, justice, and dark chocolate. Her passion is partnering with the next generation of faith. Jill blogs at jillmrichardson.com.

Photograph © Kari Shea, used with permission