Your intellect wants the "right answer." Your soul needs something more.

I spoke at young men’s conference recently at a local university. At the start of my second session, I asked if anyone had questions for me, and one student asked: “How do you nurture a relationship with God?”

Before you read any further, I encourage you to put yourself in my shoes, as if you had to answer that question for someone else, or even for a small crowd. What would you tell them if you were apparently a spiritual authority in the room? What do you believe is God’s wisdom worth sharing on this matter? What do you think would be worth saying that this kind of person wouldn’t already know—that is, a man who follows Christ, attends a Christian university, is inundated with theology, immersed in Christian culture, and already surrounded by spiritual leaders and teachers?

I felt it for a second . . . that oh crap moment of, “I don’t know how to answer this question (at least not in a way that would be very meaningful).” The first thought that came into my mind was to tell him that it depends on prayer. But let’s be honest. If I said, “It depends on prayer!” or “You just need keep making time for him in prayer!” do you think this would’ve helped the young man? I don’t. Beneath his question was clearly an admission that these sorts of answers had left him wanting, still struggling to attain the kind of relationship with God that he desires. They are cheap answers to expensive problems, and God isn’t cheap. His words have weight, and we shouldn’t settle with anything less.

And so, I had two options: I could frantically scan through the rolodex of knowledge in my brain to find the most “sufficient,” “profound,” or “doctrinally correct” answer, deceiving myself that the answer was born out genuine revelation rather than fear of looking incompetent in front of a crowd. Or, in humility, I could recognize that I didn’t have the answer on hand. I could present myself to the Lord and say, “God, I don’t see it; will you show me?,” then resign myself to waiting on the Lord for clarity, prepared to admit to the crowd (if necessary) that I don’t have a good answer for that today.

I chose the second path. Lord willing, I will always choose the second path, and you will, too.

I said to the young man, “Good question—give me a second to think about it.” And then, for an uncomfortable length of time, I went silent. I prayed inwardly that God would not just “give me an answer,” but give me understanding. For I cannot with integrity speak with presumed authority about things that I do not see, that I do not myself have true confidence in.

The threat (and reality) of awkwardness grew with every second that passed, but I stood in it—at any moment ready to pull the plug and admit I wasn’t sure how to respond, all the while trusting that God would give me something real.

In this story, he did give me something real. Not only did I get an answer that I believe will really help that man, but it’s been something that the Lord has been stirring in me ever since. And it’s become one of the main focal points of my ministry to those around me recently.

At this point, you’re probably wondering what I told him, but that isn’t the point if this article today. The point of this article is to demonstrate the way of the Spirit, the Spirit of Truth, which God wants us all to walk in and abide in. It’s to encourage you to be humbled by the questions that you probably have cheap answers to, but not weighty, personal revelations for. These only come from God, and he wants you to come get them from him, to wait on him for them, to trust that he’ll be your teacher and satisfy your soul’s longing to walk with true confidence and spiritual authority, not just with a bunch of “right answers.”

One more quick example…

I remember speaking with a man who had recently converted from Christianity to Islam. He asked me many good questions, one of which was this: Why couldn’t God just forgive us, without having to sacrifice his own Son? (Islam, of course, teaches that there is no need for the sacrificial atonement. God simply forgives and grants eternal life to those who “repent” by Islamic standards.)

It’s a reasonable question, I think. And one that I probably should’ve had the answer to. I’ve been to seminary. I’m a pastor. I’ve read many Christian books. I’ve even written a book… on the atonement! But despite all that, I knew in the moment that I didn’t see it. I knew, if I tried, that I could’ve done a quick search through my knowledge bank and come up with at least a halfway sufficient answer, but that’s what I’ve learned to resist. If I don’t currently see it, then I can’t talk about it as if I do.

This probably sounds a bit insane to some of you reading this, but I’m telling you, this way of living is absolutely crucial to the spiritual life, to knowing God, to gaining true understanding.

I told the man that I couldn’t answer his question that day, but that I’d pray about it and get back to him. In the shower a couple of days later, I was speaking to the Lord about it: “God, why did Jesus have to die? Why couldn’t you just forgive us? Will you show me?” And as I talked to him and waited on him, he began to show me what I once saw very clearly about the matter but had since forgotten. It was such a beautiful reminder, which built up my own faith, as well as enabled me to provide a sufficient answer to the man later (who gave up Islam but has not yet given his life to Christ).

The point is: Had I acted like I understood these things, depending merely on my intellect to “make sense” of them and explain them, I would’ve missed these wonderful opportunities to humble myself before God and gain something much more real.

Sometimes this means that even a gospel-teacher has to admit that he doesn’t understand the gospel. Sometimes it means you’ll have admit that you don’t understand (or even believe) things that you probably should. But if you couple that humility with faith that God will teach you, he really will! In fact, he gave you the Spirit for this very reason—to teach you all things (John 14:26), to lead you into all truth (John 16:13), and that you might understand the things freely given to you by God (1 Corinthians 2:12).

So many Christians settle with answers that merely satisfy the intellect but leave the soul deprived. These answers are not always wrong, but if they aren’t yours; if they are someone else’s; if you’re not describing something that you yourself genuinely see with the eyes of your heart, then they lack weight. They lack the power to change you or anyone else.

“God loves me.” If you’re a Christian, you know this is technically true. You know that it’s in the Bible. You may tell it to your children. But for some of you, it’s no more than someone else’s revelation that you’re trusting in, even if it’s the Apostle John’s, or Peter’s, or Paul’s. That’s a start, but until you can speak about it from your own vantage point, as something that you’ve seen and tasted and know is true, don’t put on airs, saying that it’s your revelation. Instead, let it humble you and cause you to wait on the Lord for what you cannot attain yourself.

The difference is this: I can tell you that my wife is five feet tall, with brunette hair, and amazing at baking sourdough bread. This isn’t something I have to rummage through my brain to remember. I don’t feel momentarily stumped when someone asks me what my wife’s hair color is. I have no need to try to remember what “so and so” told me about her. That knowledge is mine in the realest sense.

However, for those you who’ve never met my wife, if someone were to ask you what her hair color is, you would have to reference this article. I don’t care how many times you read it or how well you commit to your memory; until you meet her yourself, that’s my knowledge and not yours. Or, we might say that it’s your knowledge, but it isn’t your revelation. Either way, you get the idea.

Only God can give you revelation, which is true spiritual knowledge. God wants the kind of relationship with you that I have with my wife. When you recognize that you’re just memorizing, quoting, or regurgitating what other people have told you (even in Scripture), but you don’t actually see it yourself, he wants you to lean on him for that personal revelation, which only he can give.

As a final thought, let it be known that I am still waiting on the Lord for answers to questions that I’ve been asking for years. Our faith is tested in these periods of waiting—i.e., Will we continue believing that God will prove faithful to lead us and teach us, even though we haven’t seen him do it in this particular way yet? Resign yourself to trusting in/depending on Jesus no matter the cost, and you will be greatly rewarded, both in this life and the next.

Knowledge becomes revelation through prayer.

In Christ,

Jake