Genuine trust involves allowing another to matter and have an impact in our lives. For that reason, many who hate and do battle with God trust Him more deeply than those whose complacent faith permits an abstract and motionless stance before Him. Those who trust God most are those whose faith permits them to risk wrestling with Him over the deepest questions of life. Good hearts are captured in a divine wrestling match; fearful, doubting hearts stay clear of the mat.

Dan B. Allender

I’m a verbal processor. This, plus a tendency to take up causes before I have all the information from all sides, has landed me in more trouble than anything else. A verbal processor says things right out Ioud that they may toss away later. They are on the way to something else, but for people who don’t operate this way, it’s hard to tell what’s process and what’s conclusion.

I was thinking out loud in the presence of someone who not only did not understand my struggle with an issue, she did not understand why it should even be an issue, nor why I was saying such disturbing things.

“Why do you have to ask so many questions? Why can’t you just believe?”

I looked at her sweet face and said nothing. What I wanted to say was, “Because it matters. Because this is a piece of the puzzle that other pieces labeled “choices” need to make connection to to understand who God really is. Because who God really is what really matters.”

I’ve heard people say that they can’t be bothered with doctrine (which, ironically, is a doctrine in itself.) For some it’s true that deeper study is not necessary. I think of a lovely friend with Down’s syndrome. Her entire theology could be summed up in her statement, “Jesus loves me and I love Jesus.” True and beautiful. So why can’t I just believe everything I’ve been told? Why have I gone through periods in my life when I need more?

I believe it’s about relationship. One of the ways I connect with God is when he gives me a puzzle or presents a question I can’t answer. I had a dream once where I was a child sitting on the floor with a kind person who was helping me connect shaped metal puzzle pieces into a mat about a meter square. I thought we were done and congratulated myself by clapping my hands like a preschooler. Then he started building the puzzle pieces upwards into an incredibly complex cube. I protested. That was entirely too hard and too much work. He looked at me kindly and said, “Stop thinking in two dimensions.” I recognized him at that moment. It was Jesus. Then he disappeared.

I’ve been in a time of puzzling with God lately. It feels too hard. There are too many pieces, too many levels, too many parts that have been forced to work when they don’t really fit and that could throw the structure off balance later. I’ve also been talking out loud a lot as I wrestle with this thing. Sweet people look at me with the same expression as the impatient woman who said, “Why do you have to ask so many questions? Why can’t you just believe?” (Now that I think of it, she wasn’t asking for my answer. She had no questions that sent her running to God in frustration and an answer without questions is just another boring lecture.)

When I read Dan Allender’s quote, I realized I am one of those who is called to wrestle with God. I know I can never comprehend his vast majesty with my tiny mind. It’s like a microbe in a match with a universe of galaxies. Wrestling is about engaging. It’s about responding to an invitation to join him on the mat and play a demanding, frustrating, multi-leveled complex game that’s probably going to trigger some anger. Maybe a lot of anger.

He comes quietly, almost silently beside me, then flips my entire perspective and triggers overwhelmingly deep and difficult questions. Then he asks if I want to play.

I say, “Are you kidding? This is way too hard for me.”

“I know,” he says. “Your move.”