Learning to Ask the Better Question

Blog / Produced by The High Calling
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In Christ's presence, an anxious Abigail Alleman found perspective—and peace. When she shifted her focus from "why" to "how," she realized, "I need to remember my story is not finished, not nearly. I am not stuck...I am cradled tight by simply choosing to show up."

These days, I sleep in a borrowed bed and live in a house that is a shelter in an undefined season of the in-between.

My heart is asking, Why am I here, when we have worked so hard to reach our overseas destination and grow roots deep into its soil?

But "why" is not the question my spirit most needs to ask.

With gentle strength that wraps me tight, I hear my Abba Father say, "Not why, Beloved, but how."

  • How have I come to be here?
  • How do I endure, even overcome?
  • How do I find the way home to his arms?
  • How do I live more fully as I push through to the other side?

These questions lead me somewhere. In the how's there are no maddening lines of waiting, only the freeing winds of perspective. I see that all I truly need is to remember "'Love is writing my life" and the story is not finished, not nearly. I am not stuck in some misguided, freakish dance between oceans and time zones.

I am cradled tight by simply choosing to show up.
And when I show up there is:
  • Delight
  • Joy
  • Hope
  • Home
  • Wonder
  • Beauty
  • Salvation
  • Truth
  • Love
  • Vision
  • Victory
  • Resilience
  • Rest
  • Solitude
  • Confidence
  • Grace
  • Peace
  • Acceptance
  • Life
  • Fullness
  • Faithfulness
  • Mercy
  • Confidence
  • Power
And a running list of 'more' which meets me.

Because the how is fixed on the one who is making all things new, whose heartbeat is redemption, who upholds the universe by the word of his power, who ever lives to intercede.

Who is the resurrection and the life.

While this long road home, this swirling world of surprises, these fragile days of human skin, this wailing griefthey are cemented to the why. The how is waiting on eagle's wings to carry me to the heights.
I am too fresh in this journey to really live this sacred truth yet.
But I paint a path, raise with shaky hands the Ebenezer, remember God as my friend and build an altar with these words. I jump into Mary Magdalene's skin and let the waves of tragedy and disappointment roll over me. I carry my spices, and I come to the tomb to honor my Lord in his death. My weeping endures, but the desire to remain close stays me.
I will raise my eyes and bear witness and learn to live by spirit instead of flesh, and I will carry hope into this world.