Questions

By Lydia Royce

Questions

A dear friend once said,

“Unless you have wrestled

With your own questions,

You will not be able

to sit with others and their questions.”[1]

But my questions,

They are so many.

And my wrestling,

They do not seem to end.

Questions, they overwhelm me

Questions, they weigh heavy on me.

“Trust in God,” He said,

“trust also in me,”

Does it mean

I get into action?

Or do I listen

To that still small voice  

Asking me to wait

For the right timing

And the right task?

“Love your neighbor as yourself,” He said

How can I love well

Without feeling the suffering

And the pain of my neighbor?

I do not like the pain,

I run away from suffering.

Oh the answers, they are all there,

Crystal clear,

They pop in my head,

At the same time as the questions,

The well-quoted verses,

The beautifully composed lyrics,

All fitting well

Like well-dressed people.

But I need more

I need answers,

That’ll calm the storm.

I need answers,

That’ll heal the ache,

Answers that will be,

Like the gaze of His eye,

That tell me it is ok

Ok to have no answers

To all of my questions

Because

In the questioning, is the answer.

In the wrestling, an embrace.

By Lydia Royce

Photo by Aqib Shahid on pexels.com


[1] Trevor Hudson, author of Discovering Our Spiritual Identity, at a lecture on Spiritual Accompaniment

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