The Avoidable Question

There are times when it is the question, not the answer, that is hard to come by. Questions can be asked or avoided, but first there must be a question. What question, tucked deep in your heart beneath a thick layer of pride or something else, lays waiting for you to ask?

Reading the novel Apples Never Fall this weekend, I was reminded of a question I asked late in my marriage. It took a decade for me to unearth this simple question that grew in urgency as the years accumulated. I won’t spoil Moriarty’s book when I tell you one of the characters struggled to find the same simple question!

I shared the story in my book about being called as senior pastor and needing to let go of some of my daily work. Among the hardest stuff we do as people (especially as women?) is to let go of some of our daily work. It is ridiculously hard for me to let go of the need to tidy up the kitchen and stay on top of the laundry. Honestly, who cares! But I sacrifice valuable sitting, playing or reading time with this ridiculous need to tidy up. But I digress.

Before I began my new call, I had asked my husband a question that began with an admission: “I need more help from you.” Marcus and I talked through the question, “What might I let go?” He immediately agreed to do the weekend cooking, leaving enough leftovers to stretch through most of the weekdays. For the last seven years, his response to my question has loosened the tension of work at church and at home. Had I not asked it, my kids would not be eating as well (last night he made homemade French Fries!) and I would be grumpy about cooking.

The question we tend to keep tucked away where no one can see it is some variation of: “What do I need?” Most of us find neediness to be a character flaw, so we avoid needing anything from anyone as best we can. We have complexes about keeping scores even and so we try to stay ahead by needing less. This, my friends, is dumb.

Pacing through Holy Week one day at a time, we should become poignantly aware of our neediness. “What do I need?”, we might ask our needy selves? The question is surely avoidable, but if we summon up the courage to inquire, we will be freed by our admission that we need help, forgiveness, a hug, a kind text, a meal, carpooling partners, a grocery run, coffee with a friend, a walk, a Savior who exchanged his life for our forgiveness. Without our neediness, there is no need for grace, the perpetually uneven score. Avoid the question and avoid the rich response of mercy. Peel back the layers of your life to find that question, and trust that the answer just might surprise you.