- Apr 20

Written by Cal Draper
When was the last time you had a question for God?
If you are like me, you may find yourself asking things like “What is your purpose for me today?" "Should I follow this career path?" or, more commonly, “What is your will for my life?" Then, when life hurls uncertainties at us, perhaps the questions intensify as we echo the cry of the psalmist, “How long, O Lord?” (Ps. 13:1). Maybe we have searched the pages of Scripture for answers to theological questions. Does Genesis suggest a young earth or an old earth? Why does God allow suffering? When will Christ return? What a gift that God has designed us as a people of wonder, longing to satisfy our curiosities.
But what happens when God has questions for us?
As Erika reminded us in her sermon on Genesis 16 a few weeks ago, the first words God utters to Adam and Eve after the fall take the form of a question: “Where are you?” (Gen. 3:9). On the surface, the question has often felt strange to me. Isn’t God omniscient? Doesn’t He know all things? And won’t David later proclaim, “You have searched me, LORD, and you know me…you discern my going out and my lying down. You are familiar with all my ways”? (Ps. 139:1-3). Or how about the rhetorical suggestion in Jeremiah 23:24: “Can a man hide himself in secret places so that I cannot see him?” And just to pull another from the New Testament, “No creature is hidden from His sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Heb. 4:13). If all of this is true, maybe it moves us to reconsider the purpose of God’s question to Adam.
Moments before God enters this scene, Scripture tells us that Adam and Eve isolated themselves in a remote corner of the Garden and covered their bodies with fig leaves. This is the very first human response to sin on record—guilt, shame, and hiding. Then God’s voice: “Where are you?” We might naturally expect Adam to give a direct answer: “I’m over here” or “We are behind this fig tree.” Yet, instead of a where, he offers a why: “I heard the sound of You in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked, and I hid myself” (v.10). God’s question draws something out of Adam that he was desperately trying to suppress and moves him to confront the heartbreaking rift between them. In many ways, this episode mirrors the narrative of the entire Bible. Over and again, we read that God’s people sin, turn away, and hide while God lovingly and relentlessly pursues them. He often does so with soul-penetrating questions.
When we look ahead to the New Testament, we find that the very first words of our Savior recorded in John’s Gospel bear an astonishing resemblance to God’s question to Adam after the fall. One day, after John the Baptist’s circle of disciples had grown, he glimpsed Jesus walking by and declared, “Behold the Lamb of God.” Upon hearing these words, Andrew and another unnamed disciple left John’s side to follow Jesus. The Savior, fully aware of their presence, turns to them and asks, “What are you seeking?” (Jn. 1:35 and 38). No immediate introductions, no casual greetings—just this searching question: What do you truly desire?
These are not only questions for figures in the Bible: they are questions for us. Where do you find yourself today? This week? This season? It’s easy to get caught up in the routines of life—going to school or work, caring for your spouse and family, spending time with friends, participating in weekend activities, planning vacations, and more. Yet often we can be so wrapped up in these wonderful gifts, goals, and pursuits that we miss the Giver’s gentle, persistent call: “Where are you? What are you seeking?” What an incredible Father and Savior we have, one who cares enough to help us see where we are, whether we are running from Him, hidden and afraid because of our sin, or too distracted by our personal goals and ambitions to recognize it. He exposes our hearts, yet, for the sake of Christ, He neither shames nor condemns us. Instead, He invites us to turn and follow Him, just as He did the earliest disciples, saying, “Come, and you will see” (v. 39).

