"Come back in two weeks with three questions," he told me. 

I was in his office after he'd given a guest lecture in the introductory class for my major. He talked about learning, and how everything teaches in one way or another—and often teaches without saying a word. How a space looks, who speaks and who doesn't, the order of things, experiences that are not scheduled but become more memorable than the ones planned, etc. So I went to see him. I asked how I should approach my college education if, as he said, everything taught (and not just the curriculum). He seemed puzzled that I had been actually listening, but he also seemed pleased. So he suggested I come back in two weeks with three questions—for he had also said that the best driver of intentional learning is a good question.    

"Write those three questions as questions you want to pursue during your four years here," he added.

I did as he asked. When I think back on my questions, though, I realize now that they were massive and unanswerable—the kind a naïve but energetic eighteen-year-old would come up with.  He was patient with me, even gracious enough to take me seriously. And we shaped some strategies for how I might use the next four years to pursue those questions:  classes, travel, organizations, explorations of the city, and more.  

What a gift. Because of that conversation I got involved in a research project at one of the study centers at the university and learned things I still draw on. Because of that conversation I shaped a couple of independent study courses, did a year of study abroad, sought out some intentional interviews in the city, and more. I'm forever grateful.

I tell this story not because my questions had any particular merit, but to remember John McKnight's view of learning. It was deeply drawn from Christian tradition, actually. For learning in Christian tradition has traditionally been seen as having less to do with information dumped into a brain than it has to do with engaging whole selves. Our tradition has also said that learning has less to do with examination and repetition (though there's a place for that) than it does with experience and exploration. And that learning is about shaping good questions before it's about accepting others' answers. That's what we've meant by conscience—thinking with.

So life in the church. Our spiritual formation can't be pre-packaged and bought. It's not a dabble here and a dabble there. It's not accepting answers without asking questions. It's about friendship and worship and mission and listening and asking and respecting and passion and patience. And it's about taking risks to know more of God, in Christ—who asks us to bring good questions to prayer. 

Ask away. Explore away. Discover away.