Asking the Question

I have found in my life that if I am certain of the answer to a big and complicated question — right away, no doubts or hesitations — there is a high likelihood that the answer is actually the wrong one.

Because most of the time the truth is buried beneath a thicket of pride, prejudice, and ignorance. To find our answers, we have to be ready to put the gardening gloves on and pick through the thorns. We have to pray. We have to reflect. We have to question ourselves and others. We have to examine our feelings. And then we have to pray some more.

See, I would be willing to bet that the tax collectors and soldiers knew. Deep in their hearts, they knew.

They knew when they approached John the Baptist and asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” that his reply was not going to be: “Keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”

They had heard this guy preach. They knew what he was about: repentance. They might not have known exactly what John the Baptist was going to tell them to do, but they knew whatever it was, it was going to be a challenge. It was going to turn their lives upside down.

I give them credit for asking the question. That’s a hard thing to do, and I don’t do it enough. Too often, I’m afraid to ask the question.

How do I love this person? How do I live out my baptismal call in this particular situation? How do I draw water from the fountain of salvation — and how do I do it with joy, as we are commanded by the Psalms?

Christmas is ten days away. Are we asking the question?

©LPi