Within about 20 seconds of meeting me, you will realize that I’m a pretty talkative person. I love to chat. I get excited when I meet new people, and I tend to not stop doing this weird talky-show-dance combination when I get really excited. So, it may be surprising to hear that I was a painfully shy child. I’m talking hide-from-all-family-pictures shy.
Obviously that’s no longer an issue.
And strangers? Ya, no, not a chance. I was a practiced mute.
I don’t even know that girl.
Naturally, I wasn’t too forthcoming with my opinions. I was never the first to raise my hand in class for fear of (gasp!) saying something idiotic and having the whole class laugh at me. (Note: I now live for these moments.) It was unthinkable that I would guess or give a gut reaction in a discussion. And you were just crazy if you expected me to offer an argument against someone else. And though I’ve come quite far from those old, silent days, old habits do die hard. It’s still a scary thing to offer my thoughts and opinions. What if I’m completely off the mark? What if people don’t like me because of what I have to say? And what about those questions to which I should already know the answer? Those are the worst!
This summer, I was given the book Mere Christianity by a good friend, and I fell in love with the humble yet certain writing of C.S. Lewis. Reading that along with books by Henri Nouwen, another genius mind who offers nuggets of wisdom in an incredibly uncomplicated way, reignited my desire to discuss and to start asking questions. Luckily, I have been blessed with patient and knowledgeable friends who were always willing to have these conversations with me, to look at the world and simply wonder why.
In these conversations, I was reminded of something powerful. In questioning, we begin to find our way to the truth. It is there, just waiting for us to discover it. Discussing our doubts will only make us stronger. This is something of which I need to be constantly reminded. We are helping no one if we are too afraid to voice what is on our hearts, no matter what the consequence of asking these questions may seemingly be. I often tell myself that every time I have given my concerns and thoughts a chance, I find myself in a better, much more settled place. And hopefully, a little closer to the truth.
Sarah and I visit two primary schools every week. We are only in each school for less than an hour, and that time is divided between visits to three classes. Despite the short amount of time that we spend with this ministry, I find it to be one of the most rewarding. Why? Because we are always encouraging our students to ask questions. No, I don’t have a formal theology degree, and yes, my answer is sometimes “That’s a great question. I’m not sure what the answer is, but we’ll look into it!” However, more important than any answer we may or may not give is that simple act of allowing them to question. We are telling them that examining what they know is not only good, but encouraged. If we can involve their intellect, we may just excite their faith life, and make them curious little Catholics. Imagine what a powerful creature that is: a child armed with both knowledge and the ability to question, ready to step into world searching for truth.
