When my boys turned 18, I looked them in the eye and said, “Just know: it’s no longer child abuse.” Of course, we laughed about it because they know that I would never intentionally hurt them. However, their coming-of-age marked a fundamental shift in our relationship. I will always be their dad, but they are becoming adults.

It’s humbling when your children come to you and want to have adult conversations — discussions about deep theological and philosophical issues.

I consider it an honor when they trust me enough to ask a question or to debate an idea.

They are forming their own opinions based on their own experiences — experiences that are different than the ones I have had.

Yet, they know that I will take their questions seriously and will not respond with simplistic platitudes.

Some years ago, I was listening to an interview with a reformed Jewish rabbi regarding the high, holy days of Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah.

This rabbi suggested that these days were a time of repentance and a renegotiation of the covenant between the Hebrew people and their God.

She explained that the prayers of the people consisted of confessing sins that have been committed over the past year.

Since they were corporate prayers, that meant that some of the congregation would be confessing things that they had not personally done. However, if one member of the community had committed a sin, the whole community was guilty.

She also proposed that these days were an appropriate time to bring to God our honest questions regarding God’s actions.

I must admit that I found the idea of humans holding God accountable to be deeply troubling. Who are we to do such a thing? A

s time has gone on, however, I am beginning to wonder if she was describing a more mature relationship between humanity and God.

After all, the very name, “Israel” means “one who wrestles with God.” It was given to the patriarch Jacob, as he wrestled with God along the banks of the Jabbok River.

Since that fateful night, all of the descendants of Jacob — whether biological or spiritual — have been caught up in a divine “give and take” with God.

It is too simplistic to say that our doubts are born from a lack of faith.

Sure, there may be some that experience doubts in that way.

For others, however, doubts are born out of deep faith and a deep love for God and humanity.

When our experiences of this world fall dramatically short of our understanding of God‘s love and compassion, the only faithful response may be genuine doubt and questions.

In such an instance, wrestling with faith may be akin to the mature questions my children bring to me.

This Lent, may we not run away from our questions. May we courageously bring them to God in order to wrestle them out in a genuine search for deeper faith and understanding.

It is true that we may walk away with a limp, but we will walk away having seen the face of God.