Questions and Wisdom

Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers.

Voltaire

Jesus, Socrates, Buddha, Lao Tzu, Confucius, Rumi, the Zen Masters, the Rabbis of the Talmud, Native Elders, and nearly every wise person before us spoke in stories, riddles, and questions. They didn’t hand out answers — they invited awakening.

And isn’t it true that our deepest spiritual breakthroughs often come not in comfort, but in the suffocating moments? In the lowest lows, when we have nowhere left to run inwardly or outwardly?

C.S. Lewis captured this beautifully:
“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains.”

Why does this matter?

Because wisdom is discovered, not given.
Because truth cannot be told — it must be experienced.

Stories, questions, and narratives force contemplation. They slow us down. They create space for something alive to move inside us. Rules, laws, and directives may shape behavior, but they rarely shape the soul. They are rigid, corrosive, and dead. Wisdom, truth, and discernment, on the other hand, are pliable, insightful, and alive.

Jesus expressed this same principle in Matthew 7:
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”

The asking is not just a request — it’s a posture.
The seeking is not a search — it’s an openness.
The knocking is not an action — it’s a willingness to be answered.

In the questions, we find the answers.
In meditation and contemplation, that still small voice whispers to our souls.

Like Elijah, we must learn to listen for that whisper even in the roar of the earthquake and the fire. But listening requires focus, attention, awareness, patience — and the spiritual “ears to hear.”

Jesus spoke about this in Matthew 6:22:
“If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light.”
He wasn’t only speaking of sight.
He was speaking of perception.
And I believe the same applies to listening: there is hearing, and there is listening.

God speaks through conscience, intuition, gentle nudges, quiet impressions.
But if we don’t ask, ponder, or question, our listening never activates.
When life storms come, we question everything — even existence.
And in those questions, we pause.
In the pause, we listen.
In the listening, we receive direction.

When we meditate, ponder, or simply sit with a problem, we unknowingly posture ourselves for an answer waiting to unfold.

We’ve all seen the difference between the one who “knows it all” and the humble white belt who admits they know nothing. One stops learning; the other can’t help but grow.

So why don’t we walk this journey with more humility?

I have nothing to teach — but I’d love for you to walk with me.
To question with me.
To listen with me.
To learn together.

Love y’all — and live responsibly.