the fear of a wandering mind

Why do we fear the wanderings of our mind? Why do we balk at the questions of our heart?

As a little girl, I was full of questions. What is heaven like? What does God look like? Why do I have so much acne? Who will I marry? Is the Bible all true? Why do Christians think it’s wrong to curse? What are the really bad curse words?

Questions.

As a kid, they’re welcome.

Questions are like beautiful gems that we grasp for as children. We want to know and learn and so we ask. We don’t settle for half-truths.

Innocence is welcome in society. We’re new to the world so our choice of navigation isn’t laughed at.

But then you grow up and all of that changes.

Suddenly I’m the one who is supposed to have all the answers. Innocence is mocked and even shamed. We’re supposed to have experience, to know.

And I don’t.

My heart screams with the cry for answers , but questions now feel risky. Confidence in the world is a must, but a wandering soul? Adults don’t question. Questions are for the ignorant, I am told. We’re supposed to follow the mold, to fit in, to know and to know with confidence. You are supposed to follow the pattern, to find that job with good money, to move out, to know the first and next and final steps.

Anyone is accepted, or so I’m told. Until I don’t fit your convictions, until we disagree, and then that policy doesn’t hold.

But guess what?

Questions = answers

Silence = the collapse of growth

Silence, it’s a little thing, and yet we don’t realize how damning it is. We don’t realize how utterly and completely damning those hidden questions are that we’re too frightened to ask.

Questions are not the end, but the beginning. Questions won’t stunt my growth in adulthood — it excels me. Questions do not mean we are lacking but only continually seeking to be stronger in our convictions then we were before.

So questions, you will not be silenced.

You will be embraced.

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