Jesus & Curiosity
Jesus is recorded asking over 300 questions in the Gospels.
He is asked nearly 200.
And he answers… only three.
That alone tells us something profound about how Jesus engaged with the world.
At first glance, we might expect the Son of God to be the one with the answers—the clear, definitive voice in every conversation. But that’s not how Jesus operated. Instead, Jesus chose to lead with questions. His approach wasn’t didactic or dogmatic; it was invitational. He didn’t offer simple solutions—he opened space for deeper reflection, dialogue, and discovery.
Rather than solving people’s problems with quick, tidy answers, Jesus often responded with a parable—a short, symbolic story that resisted closure and begged for interpretation. These stories weren’t just moral lessons. They were disruptive. They unsettled assumptions. They sparked imagination. They forced people to confront themselves and God in new ways.
Why would Jesus choose such a strategy?
Maybe it’s because Jesus understood that the questions we ask often reveal more than the answers we seek. He wasn’t just interested in giving people information—he wanted transformation. And transformation doesn’t usually come through certainty; it comes through wonder, humility, and curiosity.
We see this especially in how Jesus interacted with different kinds of people.
When Nicodemus approached Jesus under the cover of night, he came with curiosity. He wanted to understand something deeper. Jesus didn’t shame his uncertainty—he welcomed it. He engaged him in a layered, mysterious conversation about being “born again.”
When Zacchaeus climbed up a tree to catch a glimpse of Jesus, that childlike act of curiosity led to a dinner invitation and a life changed forever. Zacchaeus didn’t come with a polished theological argument. He came with interest, and Jesus met him there.
In contrast, many of the religious leaders approached Jesus with suspicion, looking to trap him or test him. Their posture was less about learning and more about defending. And they often walked away unchanged, having missed the invitation right in front of them.
Jesus treated curiosity like a thread. He didn’t pull it all at once. He followed it, gently, attentively, willing to let it lead wherever it might go. He saw people not as problems to solve, but as mysteries to explore.
And maybe that’s the invitation for us, too.
To ask more questions. To live with mystery. To let go of the need for certainty.
To follow Jesus—not just for the answers—but for the journey of discovering what those questions might reveal in us.
Because if Jesus modeled anything in the way he engaged others, it’s that faith doesn’t require all the answers.
But it might just begin with a good question.