No Answers Allowed

No Answers Allowed

A question is essentially an invitation. 

Well obviously some questions are invitations. 

Wanna come over? Most would interpret that as an invitation to come over.

Will you marry me? That’s typically an invitation to be wed. 

But sometimes the invitation is more subtle. And regardless of the depth of the question, the invitation remains. The invitation to grow closer together. The invitation to know one another on a more intimate level. The invitation to hear someone ask another question in return.

What’s your favorite ice cream? What are your thoughts on God? Who was your favorite band when you were a teenager? What part of the political spectrum appeals most to you? What do you think Jesus meant when he said all those things he said? 

All questions are really an invitation to dance. Dance a verbal dance, of course. But dance nonetheless. And nothing kills the invitation of a question quite like an answer.  The answer is the final note of the song, ensuring that the dance is over.

But what if I want to keep dancing?

A question is asked and hangs in the air like a cloud. But not one of those clouds that seem to move through the sky, but one of those clouds that seems like you have it tied to a string and the other end of the string is firm within your grasp. 

And then the answer is given. And it’s final. And that’s it. The cloud dissipates before your eyes.

When the question is asked, the possibilities are endless. Infinite, really. Maybe not infinite. I’m sure someone much smarter than me has made an algorithm to tell exactly how many possible answers every question has. But I don’t care to know it. Know why? I’d rather ask the question ‘how many answers could a question have’ and then sit back and wonder about it.

So this will be a place for questions. Infinite possibilities. Where the dance just keeps going. But if you’re needing a final note, the last chord to play so something will resolve, you may want to look elsewhere.

No answers allowed.