On my desk I have a calculator. Math has ever been one of my strong points so I need it to get the right answers. I quickly figured out that, when it comes to numbers, there is no such thing as ‘near enough’ – the answer is either right or it is wrong. This is especially true when balancing my chequebook.
Likewise, when I ask someone a question I expect an answer. I rang the IRD last week with a question, only to be told by a computer that my question could not be answered at that time. This was distressing. I needed an answer right at that moment because I was concerned. No answer meant a growing feeling of needless worry.
I live my life on questions and answers and I have come to expect that there are answers to most questions. Subsequently, when a question can’t be answered I move quickly from trust to distrust. If I can get an answer from IRD immediately, I will trust them. But so long as the answer remains elusive, they are not to be trusted.
I wonder if we rely too much on immediate solutions to our questions?
Some time ago I read a spiritual writer who suggested we need to learn the art of ‘living the questions’ rather than constantly finding answers. Answers make us feel better, but they are not always helpful. In reality they can often mislead us. The questions I am thinking about are the big ones of life: ‘Why am I here?’ ‘Does God exist?’ What happens when I die? Do people really like me? Is life completely random? Does God have a plan for my life? And so on.
For many of us, until these questions are answered we will not believe in God, or trust God even if we do believe. We want concrete answers that seem so elusive. Why?
Since the 18th century westerners have slowly become obsessed with rationality at the expense of mystery. Truth has become reliant on empirical data - the kind of stuff we can put in a spreadsheet. If we can observe enough detail then we can the make valid conclusions. But it’s hardly inspiring.
When a parent loses a child to ill health or tragedy and then faces the deep visceral questions of suffering and meaning, a simple or even truthful answer will not change anything. They can only live the questions and grow in to the answers over time.
Most of the big questions of life are not meant to be answered - they are to be experienced. Perhaps it’s better to describe them as a journey. In this sense ‘life answers’ don’t simply drop into our laps, but rather the questions mold us toward a conclusion; the answers are not empirical, they are transformational.
The journey through the big questions of life are much more important than arriving at a solution. Answers rarely change us, but an honest journey through life’s questions will transform us.
© Digby Wilkinson 2007