Everyone would like a clearer picture of what is happening these days in the social, medical and cultural arenas of our lives. We all have our lists of things that we prefer not to see, or just as damaging, things that should have been seen that we ignore. It is tempting to isolate ourselves from most of it. Unfortunately, it’s not going anywhere fast. Centuries have shown that these concerns have always been with us in one form or another.

Seeking understanding and the greater clarity it brings is not an easy task, even on a good day. As a child, periodic eye appointments and unflagging faith in the caretaking abilities of parents brought an understanding that when eyesight changed, there was almost always an appropriate fix for any concern. Each “next exam” was filled with the promise of clearer vision. One had only to wait impatiently for frames that accompanied the newest lens prescription. Wisdom and the invincibility of youth eventually collided, and the promise of always coming to an easy solution or correction became less clear. Finding the sole cause for every unwanted situation became nigh impossible to declare with certainty. That’s when questions began to matter.

Asking questions gets people into trouble in a hurry. That is especially true for religion based on the templates of early experience. Many remain true to their particular brand of faith simply because that is what they know best; it is what they were taught, what was reinforced by close cultural community, and imprinted by family and friends. A common story for many describes a spiritual hiatus from the religious status quo, often at a time of transition such as graduation, marriage, and the births or deaths of family members or friends. Some, for the first time in their lives, begin asking questions that were always assumed to have easy answers. This new clarity can be startling, even when it emerges slowly. Why is it that the church discourages such questioning? Could it be that God’s shoulders aren’t broad enough to adequately field them all? That doesn’t square with the all-powerful and mighty God that we were taught about at an early age.

It could be helpful to maintain a deeper, more complete appreciation of differences that exist so that we can respond with deliberation that never demeans or dismisses others simply because they align themselves with one particular set of beliefs. Even within relatively homogenous congregations, many questions go unasked and unanswered. What of the inconsistencies and contradictions found within texts? When is metaphor appropriate? How can belief in inerrancy or strict adherence to largely debunked myth continue to be claimed as the only possibilities? Who were the authors of the texts, how were they compiled, and when were they written? How is God manifest in the Word when humankind has fiddled with, altered, omitted, and misattributed nearly every scriptural writing at one time or another?

Therein lays the value of inquiry into the Divine. It enables us to entertain an edgier liminal orientation to faith, that sacred spark or energy (some would posit the Holy Spirit) without which we risk slow spiritual death. Embracing moments of clarity and building on them elevates us to a higher transcendent plane. Are we willing to risk enlightenment brought about by The Divine? Then risk by asking questions that matter.

Faith is an arduous journey that is both modest and complex in the same moment. There are few simple corrections and fewer absolutes, but each degree of clarity we can muster is a step in the right direction.