VOCATION

Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.

E. E. Cummings

Decisions big and small are portions of our life of pilgrimage, but they are not the destination. Life with God is the destination.

J. Brent Bill, Sacred Compass

Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.

Abraham Lincoln

What are your twenties for? That's a good question. Why? Because it leads to other deep and beautiful questions worthy of your time and energy.

To answer this question, a good place to start searching for an answer may be to heed the wisdom of Blaise Pascal. A French mathematician, philosopher, and inventor, Pascal was an eccentric genius, the kind Hollywood producers profile in biopics. He was an early innovator of what we now know as the calculator. He also pioneered mathematical work on the binomial triangle and invented the hydraulic press and the syringe. And, on the side, he wrote works on Christian theology and philosophy. His stunning intellect certainly contributed to his successes in such a short time (he died before turning forty) and in such a diverse number of areas.

But that's only half the story. Pascal was no run-of-the-mill genius. His success as a scientist and philosopher hinged upon his unwavering devotion to exploring the meaning and purpose behind everything, and to do so by asking great questions. Anchoring his experimental work in mathematics, physics, theology, and philosophy was an undying quest to explore the meaning of his own life.

Playwright and politician Václav Havel once suggested that the tragedy of modernity is "not that [we know] less and less about the meaning of ... life, but that it bothers [us] less and less."

When we fail to bother, we fail to ask. When we don't care, we don't question. So this chapter is devoted to exploring the purpose and meaning of your twenties and encouraging you to embrace some good and beautiful questions in hopes that you'll arrive at some good and beautiful answers. This is a journey of inquiry not unlike Pascal's seventeenth-century quest for meaning. Yet more than 350 years after Pascal's life and work, humankind still doesn't grasp the power of questions. Think about it. We live in an age where nearly every question imaginable can be asked, and responded to, through the power of Google on our phones. Untold amounts of information are literally at our fingertips (or, more precisely, thumb tips). Yet for all the technological power and innovation available to us, we still struggle to understand the most complex and most beautiful questions of life.

Journalist Warren Berger, who authored an entire book on the power of good questions, wrote, "A journey of inquiry that (hopefully) culminates in change can be a long road, with pitfalls and detours and often nary an answer in sight. ... The best innovators are able to live with not having the answer right away because they're focused on just trying to get to the next question."

This is the power of good and beautiful questions. They don't always provide easy answers, but they challenge and stretch our thinking. They help us change in important ways. They lead to epiphanies, lightbulb moments that inspire new questions and new ideas. Questions open our minds in ways that answers don't. They lead to divergent thinking, adventures in our minds that allow us to consider new angles and ideas with courage. Asking questions is also a great equalizer. When we need answers on a particular issue, there's typically a rigid hierarchy that dispenses knowledge (pastors, scholars, politicians, etc.). But who is barred from asking questions? No one. Anyone can ask questions.

Still, as Berger argued, being able to ask a question and asking a good question are two different things. My (Drew's) kids illustrate this perpetually. Having five children is to be subjected to a constant barrage of questions about everything, from the mundane to the profound, the holy to the profane. Some of the questions are beautiful. Some make absolutely no sense. Scientists tell us that children hit their peak of question asking at about four years of age. It's how they make sense of their world. When she was four, my oldest daughter, Isa, once tugged on my sleeve and asked, "How did the thing go to?"

Try saying that aloud and not laughing! It was a terrible question, so terrible it was funny and kind of adorable. I had no idea what she was talking about.

Isa is ten now and asks much better questions. But she is also asking fewer questions. Something happens after age four. We start relying on the answers we've already received more than the questions we might ask. Answers are certainly helpful, but we risk missing something significant when we fail to ask. We journey through life with a false sense of certitude. Or to put it bluntly, we live like self-conscious middle schoolers, shying away from asking questions that make us feel vulnerable, stupid, or silly.

Live the Questions

The poet Rainer Maria Rilke implores us to "live the questions now." But to do so is more than an intellectual pursuit. It's an embodied exploration that requires our entire being, here and now. This is how you should approach your twenties.

Good and beautiful questions lived well are lived with others. It's important to surround yourself with people you know and trust to treat your hopes and fears with the best of intentions.

The Quaker tradition has a longstanding practice that illustrates this beautifully. It's called a clearness committee, a communal approach to discernment in which trusted members of the community gather around an individual who has a particular challenge, problem, or question. When gathered, members follow one rule: You are allowed to speak using only open, honest questions. Clearness committees don't employ interrogations or verbal suggestion boxes. They seek to honor the discovery-and-discernment process, free of personal agendas.

Why questions and not answers? Answers would be easier to give and more efficient, right?

To appreciate the true value of a question over an answer, consider Jesus of Nazareth, the most powerful teacher ever to walk this earth. His words, recorded in the Bible, are the most read words in the history of the world. And his preferred method of teaching? Asking questions, often to the annoyance and confusion of his disciples. In fact, Jesus asked more than three hundred questions in the Bible. Look it up and count if you like (or just trust us). The Bible also records more than one hundred times when individuals or groups asked Jesus a question. Can you guess how many times he responded with a direct answer?

Three.

That's it. Three.

Nearly every time, Jesus responded to a question with a better, deeper question. It's because questions, at their core, are an adventure....