A question worth asking

Anyone who has ever been around preschoolers is very familiar with their favorite word (other than no, which also ranks way up there):  Why? They are just so curious that they want to know how every little thing works. And it’s adorable. Unless you’re tired or not feeling well or it’s the end of a day cluttered with far too many questions. 

In fact, those of us who are not currently in that stage of parenting or teaching have almost forgotten how intense it can be. And when we watch other people’s preschoolers, we are reminded quickly of how much they talk. And how many of their sentences contain the word why.

But the other day, I found that I needed to ask myself a question beginning with the word why, and here is what I learned. It wasn’t a big deal. In fact, no one would ever know if I were not now writing about it. It was just a small decision I made that had absolutely no impact on anyone else whatsoever. One of those little everyday matters, only this time, I found myself being very petty about it. 

I’m being intentionally vague here because it is such an inconsequential thing, but what did matter was my attitude. I am not typically a petty person, and I strive not to be one. But I took delight in something that was so very petty that I had to ask myself the million-dollar question:  Why did I take such delight in that outcome? 

In other words, what did that say about the condition of my heart that I bore the fruit of pettiness in my life at that moment? And do you know what I discovered? That my moment of reveling in something so shallow pointed to some unresolved bitterness inside of me from an earlier wound that had yet to heal.

Soon after this personal revelation and repentance, I came upon a similar situation in my devotions in which King David is asked this very same question by the commander of his army, Joab. David is nearing the end of his life, and God tells him to take a census, to number the people. 

This is not a bad thing to do, as it is often done for taxation or military purposes, and in 2 Samuel 24, we read that David orders that the people be counted. However, something is amiss here, and Joab puts his finger on it in verse 3:  But Joab said to the king, “May the Lord your God add to the people a hundred times as many as they are, while the eyes of my lord the king still see it, but why does my lord the king delight in this thing?”

Did you catch that? David is not merely counting the people; he is delighting in the numbers that are being tallied up. He is glorying in numbers. He is taking his security from these numbers, possibly even feeling prideful. His attitude is not right. His delight in these numbers points to sin in his heart. David cannot see this for himself, but Joab can, and so Joab calls him out on it.

David doesn’t really put much stock in Joab’s question at that moment; however, he does realize what he has done later. We read in verse 10:  But David’s heart struck him after he had numbered the people. And David said to the Lord, “I have sinned greatly in what I have done. But now, O Lord, please take away the iniquity of your servant, for I have done very foolishly” (2 Samuel 24:10).

Now, if we jump ahead to 1 Kings chapter 1, we can see this thread again, this time in relation to David’s son Adonijah. The beginning of verse 6 tells us:  His father [David] had never at any time displeased him by asking, “Why have you done thus and so?” 

As parents, we certainly ask why often, don’t we? It ranges from little housekeeping offenses such as:  Why did you leave a mess on the counter? Why didn’t you put your shoes away? But it also escalates to more serious heart matters:  Why did you say unkind words to your sibling? Why are you displaying such a bad attitude? 

We ask these questions, not because it’s fun or easy, but because they are necessary. Because we want to guide our children to make better choices, but also to realize what’s in their own hearts. We want them to learn for themselves how to monitor their own desires and motivations, to realize when they’re heading down a dangerous path.

To know the folly of their own hearts, but also the wisdom of God applied to their lives in practical ways. In short, we want them to succeed at living for God’s glory and not just to satisfy their own ever-changing appetites.

But we can see here that David never asked his son Adonijah why he did what he did. And the result was devastating. Adonijah grew into a man who took what he wanted by force, a man who didn’t respect his father or honor his own brothers. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it, and because he had never been taught restraint or discipline, when he wanted the throne, he attempted to take it. 

Ultimately things did not end well for Adonijah. I look at Adonijah’s story, and I can see any one of us in his shoes. Our hearts can lead us astray. We can make excuses and feel justified when the truth is that we are just wrong.

That is why we need to consistently ask ourselves why:  Why am I delighting in this? Why did I do this? Whether it’s in the small matters or the big ones, what really matters is the condition of our hearts.