The beginning is a very good place to start. And questions serve as a lovely launch.
Questions formed the tank.
World War 1 served as a time for huge development in the means of technology and advanced weaponry. We see the miles upon miles of trenches, failed fronts, horrific and tricky gas warfare and think of it as an archaic battlefront. But the mechanical goings on were just...amazing for the time. Planes were being rebuilt to hold heavy artillery and maintain the ability to fire it in the right direction. If you know anything about aerodynamics, then you know that this was an impressive feat at a time when they were starting from scratch. There was a reason the Red Baron was considered a legend. Vehicles were now being used on the battlefield to transport wounded men to safety even faster than before. And tanks. Tanks were indestructible...once they were perfected.
There were some skeptics of this bumbling machinery. The first models were highly unsafe--dumping out carbon monoxide, exploding on the field, getting stuck in the ice and mud. Skeptics happily observed the disaster and started asking bold questions. "Why did we ditch the Cavalry for this?" "A horse would be far more knowledgeable and loyal." "Don't you see all of the problems?" "We need many, many more tweaks to the constructive engineering before this can even be useful." Although while they were trying to figure out the point of this worthless invention, the tank improved. Every flaw that was picked apart thus turned into solutions. It was because of skepticism--along with a paradoxical, stubborn optimism--that made the tank indestructible.
It is an abundance of questions that make the world go 'round. Questions write stories. They discover theories. They solve problems. They construct tanks.
And out of fear or self righteousness (I can't decide which), we have stopped asking them in anticipation of an answer. It is defensiveness and entrapment that we offer on the altars of other gods. Tragic, though perhaps not without reason.
Speaking as a chronic fence sitter, I must admit...I love both sides of the Josh Duggar debate. They are demanding opposite concepts that are equally legitimate. Justice. And mercy.
The cry for justice wants to see the girls avenged. I think that they should be, because I have seen too much. I myself have been fortunate to live in a household and family of trustworthy gentleman who consider my well being incredibly important, and I can't thank Jesus enough for that. But there is a startling amount of young women out there who experienced the rough hands of vicious sexual abuse. I can assure you that you, at this very moment, are surrounded by these girls. The reason you disagree with me is because they have spent years being too afraid to speak up. It isn't fair. It isn't right. Molestation is something that robs a woman of her self worth, her ability to trust, of so many things. Those scars don't go away. They just don't. Unfortunately, within church culture, there is still an element of shame intentionally applied to her. She tells us she was assaulted. We ask what she was wearing.
The girls deserve justice for a wound so deep. Whether they were innocent children when it happened, or whether they were drunk at a party. That is what critics of Josh Duggar are screaming for us to hear and I'm glad that finally, FINALLY rape culture is turning to the side of the victims. They don't need counselors with their nose so deep in a bible that they forget to address the deepest, most primal questions that must be answered before healing can begin. They need to know that it wasn't ok. That it wasn't her fault. That the perpetrator should have consequences. That her moving on was a sign of her strength and beauty, and not an indication of the abuser's conquest. That forgiveness can be moving past an injustice and wishing someone well without returning to a toxic relationship.
But God is a God of both justice and mercy. It's all well and good as spectators to be self righteous about his crimes right now. But when the courts are closed, the cameras are done, and the interviews are over...both Josh and the victims still have many years of life to live. How miserable it is to spend so much time running from the person you once were. A person that no longer exists. A person that can be restored, because the concept of grace is just that powerful. After all, the apostle Paul began his life as a murderer and ended it as a martyr.
The paradox is real. It is painful. It is not easy. And we must not stop asking the questions that matter. "How should we handle this?" "What is the right thing to do?" "How are the girls going to be provided for?" "What should be done about Josh?"
The very real and tangible problem in all of this is that we are running about, squawking inquiries at each other. We have forgotten to gaze at the Creator of justice and Executor of mercy, and earnestly ask for His opinion on the matter. If we, I, insist on making something like this our business, then we must understand the beautiful need for desperate intercession. When we neglect to make the Spirit welcome, then we neglect to make our most important relationship a priority. It's important to His heart the we search for Him within the center of our weakness. That it is Him we involve. That it is Him we run to and rely on.
Perhaps it is time to stop debating ideas and to start asking questions. Perhaps it's time to focus on who we are asking. His answers are perfection. Oh, Holy Spirit, you are welcome here...
