Divine Hide-and-Seek: Why Faith is Found in the Mystery
Somewhere along the way, a lot of us got the message that faith and curiosity don't mix. That asking too many questions is dangerous. That doubt is a problem to be solved rather than a path to be explored. That the strongest faith is the kind that never wavers. But what if that's all wrong? What if curiosity isn't a threat to faith but the very thing that makes it deeper, richer, and more alive?
Look at the world's great spiritual traditions, and you'll see that faith has always been fueled by questions.
In Judaism, asking questions is central to spiritual growth—debate, interpretation, and even wrestling with God are all built into the tradition. The Talmud isn't a book of simple answers; it's a collection of conversations, arguments, and counterarguments, showing that truth is found in the wrestling.
In Buddhism, seekers are encouraged to explore, to investigate for themselves rather than accept beliefs blindly. The Buddha himself said, "Do not go upon what has been acquired by repeated hearing, but only after observation and analysis."
In Islam, scholars have long engaged in deep inquiry, blending faith with philosophy, science, and ethics, asking how the wisdom of the Quran speaks to the world as it evolves.
And then in Christianity, Jesus was constantly asking questions (307, but who is counting) Who do you say that I am? Why do you worry? What do you want me to do for you? He was inviting people into the mystery, into a faith that isn't about having all the answers but about trusting that the divine is still speaking.
Faith was never meant to be a rigid, finished product. It's a journey. A process. A living, breathing conversation with the sacred.
When we stop asking questions, we shrink our faith into something small, something manageable. But curiosity? Curiosity blows the doors off. It keeps us open to new revelations, new ways of seeing, new ways of experiencing the divine.
It asks, 'What if there's more here than I've been told?' instead of accepting what's easy.
It wonders, 'Where is God in this pain?' instead of settling for clichés.
It explores, 'What can I learn from different voices, traditions, and stories?' instead of fearing what's unfamiliar.
Curiosity leads us deeper into the heart of faith. It reminds us that the divine is always bigger than we imagined because there is a difference between certainty and faith. Certainty says I've got this all figured out. Faith says, I don't know everything, but I trust that God is with me as I search. Certainty resists change. Faith embraces the journey. Certainty clings to control. Faith lets go and steps into the unknown. Curiosity moves us from certainty to trust. It teaches us that not knowing is okay, that questions are holy, that doubt isn't the enemy of faith—it's part of how faith grows.
So, if you've ever been afraid that your questions mean you're losing your faith, hear this: Your questions mean your faith is alive. Questions mean you're engaged. Searching. Paying attention. Just like the seekers, the prophets, the mystics, the reformers, and the teachers of every spiritual tradition who came before you. Faith was never about having it all figured out. It was always about the courage to keep asking, seeking, and leaning into the wonder. Because on the other side of those questions? A faith that is deeper. Truer. More alive than ever before. And always more Curious. It's where you find that the mystery of the divine isn't something we CAN'T know; it's something that we will ENDLESSLY come to know...if we are curious.
Grace, Peace, and Curiousity…
Sam