In Praise of Curiosity

by Amy Stopher

Photo by Kym VdP

I like to think I’m a curious person. Or perhaps more accurately, I aspire to be a curious person. It’s not because I think curiosity is a moral category. It’s not a fruit of the Spirit. And yet I’m increasingly convinced it’s a trait I want to possess. And in possessing it, I’ll gain something good.

I think I’ve always been curious about people. At least, I can’t remember an origin story for my interest. Probably a combination of wiring, my family upbringing, and circumstance, I’ve always loved making new friends. On meeting someone new, I want to hear their story! I want to know who they are, and how they came to be them. On meeting someone new, I can out-question almost anyone (not always a good thing!)

But that might be where my natural curiosity stops. At school, I was a good student, especially the closer I got to the finish line. Did I love to learn? I don’t think so. I got a taste of success and approval, and I wanted more. I was driven to study by praise, not passion.

I’m not really the kind of person who wonders How Things Work. When my sister gets a new phone she’ll play around on it for hours, working out all the things it can do. I have never done that. Anything I know how to do on my phone has been learned by absolute necessity. Probably shown to me by a teenager. The same goes for other parts of my life. I like to garden. I can’t really be bothered refining how I garden to improve my gardening success. Every now and then I stumble across a gem of knowledge that captures my attention (did you know the best thing for soil health is plants?) but mostly I fumble away, content with mediocrity.

During COVID I had a bit of an existential crisis (I know– who didn’t?). A few months into the pandemic everyone on our team was given a week of leave, acknowledging the drain of the previous few months. I can’t remember how I spent my week, but it probably involved gardening, cooking, sleeping, maybe reading and definitely tv watching. On our return I asked a team mate what he’d done on his leave. He’d taught himself how to edit videos– a skill directly relating to our work at the time. I questioned him on his use of the time off. Wasn’t that work? His response triggered my crisis. “I just love to learn.” For months I asked myself that question, do I love to learn? Why don’t I love to learn?

But that’s not quite true. I had learned to love learning a number of years before COVID, in a New Testament class at Bible College (Trinity Theological College to be precise - highly recommend!) Having studied a few units with one particular teacher, who I loved and still greatly admire, I sat a unit with a new teacher at the College. And his style completely threw me. He began each lecture gathering our questions about the passage at hand, and his questions too! And then we’d spend the class working out whether we could answer our questions, circling in on what the passage might be saying. On more than one occasion he changed his mind about what the passage meant, live, in class. I could not believe it! Didn’t he know the answers? Wasn’t it his job to know the answers? I found that first unit perhaps the most stressful of my degree. 

But then I took a second unit and the process started to make more sense. Practising curiosity gave us fresh eyes. Instead of coming to a passage assuming we knew what it meant, we learned to look for what it said. We noticed things we hadn’t paid attention to before. We learned to ask better questions, and got better at seeing how the text itself answered our questions. We became more attentive learners of God’s word, better equipped to help others learn too. It has shaped the way I’ve read the Bible ever since. Now one of my favourite things is reading the Bible with another woman and seeing her grow in curiosity about what God is saying as we read together week by week, month by month.

And I wonder whether applying some of that curiosity in the rest of life would serve me well too? I say I’m interested in people, but there’s a limit to my natural curiosity. When someone annoys me, my posture is not one of curiosity, at least not instinctively. My first thought isn’t, I wonder what’s going on for them? I wonder how they see this situation? It’s something far more judgemental. But I’ve never regretted being curious in the midst of frustration or disagreement, when I’ve had the presence of mind and self-control to do so. Curiosity seems to lead to compassion, and understanding. To bearing with one another. And to seeing myself more clearly too.

Despite my contentment with knowing the bare minimum about How Things Work, there’s a treasure trove waiting for me there too. Because we live in a world made by our good and loving creator– a world in which there’s more to discover than we ever could. What great delight is waiting for us in discovering the beauty and wisdom of what God has made, and even greater joy in praising him for it.

So I’m asking God to grow me in curiosity. I’m confident that as he answers my prayer he’ll also be growing me in the humility of knowing he is God, and I am not. And I’ll delight in the privilege of praising the one who made me, and loves me.

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Amy Stopher—Regular Contributor

Amy grew up by the beach, the third of four sisters, and first learned the gospel from her parents. She taught high school students Politics and English, before studying Theology at Trinity Theological College in Perth, WA. Now Amy serves on the ministry team at Providence City, and delights in seeing women grow in their confidence to teach God’s word. Amy loves gardening, cooking for people and eating with them, and early mornings at the beach. She lives with her dog, Billie. You can find more of her work here.