Have you heard the phrase, “Ignorance is bliss”? There’s also the phrase, “You don’t know what you don’t know.” Both are true, I suppose, to an extent. Not asking questions about something you don’t understand is a way to skirt what actually could be facts. Ignorance is bliss when our area of influence is only those who see things exactly the same way. It’s easy to have a particular worldview when it’s all we know, and all we want to know.
I remember being invited to a birthday party when I was around ten years old. It was at a McDonald’s, back when that was a perfectly grand venue for such an occasion. I received the invitation and assumed I knew exactly which friend it was for. I didn’t ask a single clarifying question. I somehow acquired a card (maybe my mom bought it for me), wrote a thoughtful note, and showed up confident to the party. Only then did I remember I had two friends with the same name, and I had written the card to the wrong one. The message inside would have made no sense to the friend whose party it actually was. Embarrassed, I folded up the card and slipped it into my pocket. No one else knew. But I did. And what has stayed with me all these years is simple: had I asked one small question, I would have been rightly informed.
Have you ever found yourself questioning what you know, or what you thought you understood? Perhaps you assumed something for years, only to discover you were mistaken. Or maybe you encountered a perspective that unsettled you, not because it was wrong, but because it was unfamiliar.
Let’s look at an example in the New Testament:
There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?
“Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
—John 3:1-171
In John 3:1–17, we meet a man named Nicodemus. A Pharisee. A leader. A teacher of Israel. He comes to Jesus at night and says, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God…” Nicodemus speaks with confidence. “We know.” Yet when Jesus replies, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above,” Nicodemus is perplexed. “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” he asks. Jesus presses further, speaking of water and Spirit, of wind that blows where it chooses, of heavenly things beyond earthly categories. And then comes the piercing question: “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?”
Nicodemus knew so much, and yet there was more to know. He had information, status, and formation. But he struggled to receive revelation. And if we are honest, so do we sometimes. I have found myself in rooms with brilliant theologians, gifted creatives, and sharp thinkers, quietly wondering why I was even there. In those moments, I’ve had a choice: retreat into silence to protect my pride, or lean in with curiosity. Sometimes the most transformative growth has come when I allowed my assumptions to be challenged, whether about ministry strategy, a musical progression, or what God’s Word might be inviting me to see afresh.
This world God created is beautiful and rich. So is His story for each of us. Yet we often experience only part of it because we are reluctant to ask, or reluctant to listen. Unlike the rich young ruler who walked away when the answer cost him something, may we choose curiosity. May we ask God the hard questions and remain present long enough to hear His hard answers. For “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son… not to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” The invitation of Jesus is not condemnation, but transformation.
There is no better season than Lent to practice this posture. It is okay for honest examination, for courageous questions, for quiet listening. Lent is a time to loosen our grip on certainty and open our hands to the Spirit. It’s okay to ask God the hard questions. In fact, I encourage us all to do so. But also be willing to hear from Him. Be willing to be shaped and molded. May we not stop at confusion like Nicodemus, but press on toward understanding.
As you spend time with God this week, be attentive to that small, still voice, or even the loud, demanding one, calling you deeper. His ways are higher than our ways. Hear the words of John. Hear the words of Jesus. God’s Word is speaking. Are we listening?
O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy: Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways, and bring them again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
—Book of Common Prayer2
Luke Gambill 