Why I’m uncomfortable with “Kabiyesi” as a name for God

I love big questions.

I’ve volunteered with teenagers for over a decade, and one of my best parts is the questions they ask. I love books and music and talks that raise new questions as much as I love those that help with old ones. And I love my work with young people because it helps keeps that part of me alive, versus adults who (mostly) don’t.

We’re all born asking questions, and I was no different. Unfortunately, I found out early, like most kids do, that adults don’t particularly like questions — or children that ask too many. And the more I came to realise this, the more I’ve fought to be able to keep asking questions, and to face them as honestly as I can. Not because asking questions is necessarily fun — it can be a very uncomfortable exercise — but it keeps me, I believe, truly alive.

And I get the discomfort, especially as we grow. To be an adult is to have spent a bit of time alive, and to have developed, over that time, some idea of how the world works. Having that idea threatened is not at all a pleasant experience. And while we all love answers to questions we know, it’s unsettling to face questions we don’t.

But like someone once said, a smart person knows the right answers, but it takes a wise person to know the right questions. (Maybe we should judge adulthood more by not just the quality of our answers but the quality of our questions.)