This morning's Business Leaders Breakfast left me feeling scraped raw, as though someone had taken a grater to my heart. The conversation circled around the power of asking questions — how great leaders are those who ask, listen, and draw people out. It sounds so simple, so natural, yet for me it felt like sitting under a spotlight, exposed.

Because here’s my truth: I learned very early that asking questions was not safe. Questions were punished with cold water, broken crockery, angry silences. Questions marked me as needy, inconvenient, or defiant. Even now, decades later, I feel that same knot in my stomach when I want to ask. To speak curiosity aloud still feels like a risk I might pay dearly for.

When I shared that struggle in the group, my voice trembled. I half-expected dismissal or awkward silence. Instead, the conversation softened. Someone reminded mentioned the wound so many carry having been raised with "children should be seen, not heard". Another nodded knowingly. My confession had unearthed a hidden truth many hold but rarely name.

Yet the weight lingered.  by the time we broke into groups for prayer, my heart felt so heavy that I asked for prayer. I left that meeting unsettled, and later, I couldn't get settled down to focus on my work. Eventually  I headed downstairs my “thinking chair”. Tears came. I called Clive, and in his usual way, he made space for me to unravel — even threatening to do his “grumpy dance” to make me smile. That tenderness reminded me: safe people exist. Questions may once have been dangerous, but not all spaces are like that anymore.

God is not threatened by my questions. He welcomes them, even treasures them. He does not snap, punish, or turn away. Instead, He bends close, listens, and answers with wisdom far beyond what I could grasp alone. If the King of the universe invites me to ask, then perhaps learning to ask again is not just healing but holy.

Maybe questions are not weakness at all. Maybe they are doorways into connection, into understanding, into grace. Healing begins here — not in silencing the trembling voice, but in daring to ask again, trusting that love will meet me there.

🙏 Prayer

Lord Jesus, You know the wounds that taught me to stay silent. Heal the fear that still lingers when I long to ask, to seek, to knock. Teach me that in Your Kingdom, curiosity is not punished but welcomed. Give me courage to bring my questions to You first, and then to safe people You place in my path. May every question become a step into deeper relationship, both with You and with those I love. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

You are not alone if asking feels risky. You are seen, heard, and held by the One who delights in your voice. May you find courage today to whisper your questions, trusting that the God who calls you beloved will always answer with love.