How come the ants know to save up food for the coming winter months?
What time is it in New Zealand right now?
How did someone figure out that we could write symbols down to communicate the words we speak?
Why isn’t there anything new under the sun?
What is air?
Why can’t we make water?
How do I understand about electricity?
What does Eternity really mean? How does one measure it?
How can I wrap my head around what is not measurable? Like pain, and love, and forever distances—or eternity?
How did the first man grasp the concept of cooking food, or making fire for that matter; how did he make the first fire? Was it by accident?
And why do birds know to fly south for the winter, and come back to the same area the next year? Do they have a GPS built inside their brains?
Why does light make people happy?
Why is salt salty?

There are all kinds of questions. I can ask a question that has a simple yes or no answer, like whether you enjoy ice cream or not. You might use a few words to clarify your answer, but the question requires a limited answer. I can also ask a question to clarify something. I may want to know what kind of ice cream you like, and if your preferences depend on seasons, or time of day, or degree of greediness. I could also ask you a “fact-finding” question about ice cream: who invented this creamy delight, or where was it first sold in cartons? If I were to host an ice cream tasting party, I may ask some “feed-back” questions so that my party would be a success—how many flavors and toppings do you think I should offer, and should the ice cream be served in edible bowls?
Questions can be purposefully loaded with suggestions that are linked to emotions, like, “do you really want to eat this huge bowl of ice cream? Aren’t you trying to lose weight?” They can tear a person down, or make one feel great—“where did you learn how to make such a mean ice cream Sunday?”

But then, there is a different kind of question altogether. This kind doesn’t call for a particular answer, but it fosters thinking. I could for example, ask you about your perspective on how ice cream influences the human body. I could ask you to expand on the thought that ice cream is healing for a broken heart… And these questions might challenge the way you think and provoke an unexpected reaction in your mind. Creativity is fostered in the presence of such questions. Not all questions will have a satisfying answer, but there is a lot to be said about the process happening as we seek to answer.

There are times where we need to ask questions in order to be able to go on with our lives—how do I process this horrible situation? What is my heart saying right now? What does God’s word say about my circumstance? Why did he/she say that? Who can I ask for help?

I am not afraid of my questions. They will lead me to an answer.

Author's Bio: 

Barbara is a writer, motivator, wellness coach and personal trainer. She spends her time helping people figure out what they want and taking the steps necessary to get there.