The Questioner’s Challenge: A Journey Into the Creator’s Design
Written by Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar
A questioner once rolled up to me, their vibe sharp, their gaze cutting through like they weren’t just seeking answers but something raw and unpolished. They began, “Who taught the human heart to drum its beat, steady and relentless, from the womb’s first whisper to its final sigh? Who schooled the limbs on how to bend, flex, and move whether to carry burdens or dance without care? Who gave the eyes their lens to catch the light, the ears the rhythm to decode sound, the lungs the playlist to keep breathing on repeat? And what genius mapped the blood’s road trip through the body, ensuring it hits every stop on the route?” Their words hung in the air, heavy and electric, demanding to be heard. I let the silence stretch, then said, “The body doesn’t need to learn. It doesn’t attend classes or memorize formulas. The Creator laid down its blueprint, embedding the code into every nerve, every cell. The heart beats not because it wants to but because it’s commanded to by divine design.” The questioner nodded slightly, acknowledging my answer but clearly ready with more. “Alright, then who taught the birds to craft their nests with an architect’s precision, the bees to hustle like master planners, or the salmon to brave rivers with courage most can’t fathom? Who whispered to the trees to stretch skyward, told the seasons to pass the baton, and decided when fruits ripen and the earth rests?” Their questions carried weight, a poetic rhythm of their own. I responded, “The animals and plants they don’t need lessons. They move on instinct, wired directly to the Creator’s rhythm. They live their roles effortlessly, like lyrics in a celestial song.” They leaned in, their gaze sharpening, and dropped the heavy question: “If the body runs flawlessly on autopilot and nature flows with divine ease, why is humanity’s soul left to struggle? Why must we grind to figure out what’s right and good? Shouldn’t our souls, like our bodies, come preloaded with purpose, flowing effortlessly in alignment with the Creator’s will?” That question hit like a lightning bolt, sparking something deep within me. I opened my mouth to respond, but they held up a hand, commanding silence. “No,” they said, their tone both firm and kind. “Sit with this question. Marinate in it. Hold it like a gem to the light, turning it to see every facet. Take two years if you must. And when you find your answer, don’t come find me answer it for yourself.” Their words were both challenge and blessing. Then they turned and walked away, their figure fading into the distance but leaving their question burning in my chest like a lit fuse.
For days, their challenge consumed me, looping in my mind like a melody I couldn’t shake. The world around me became sharper, more alive, like it, too, was waiting for an answer. I saw birds crafting nests with precision, trees weathering storms yet standing tall, rivers cutting through rock with relentless determination. Nature moved without hesitation, but even in its grace, there was struggle. The salmon’s upstream journey wasn’t easy, and the flowers didn’t bloom without breaking through soil. The trees bore scars, their growth slow and deliberate.
That’s when the answer began to form. Maybe the struggle was the point. Unlike the rest of creation, humans weren’t meant to simply follow a script. Our souls weren’t preloaded with purpose because we were given something infinitely greater freedom. The freedom to choose, to stumble, to rise. The Creator’s wildest gift to humanity wasn’t perfection; it was potential. A tree doesn’t question its growth, but we do. Our doubts, our wrestling, our seeking they’re not flaws; they’re features of our design. Our souls were made to seek, to strive, to grow through the tension between what is and what could be.
In the struggle, I saw the Creator’s brilliance. The body operates, but the soul aspires. The birds and trees are magnificent in their alignment, but they don’t dream, they don’t question. Humanity, with all its messiness, was given the gift of becoming. It’s not about perfection; it’s about progress. Each misstep, each failure, is a chance to recalibrate, to tune into the higher frequencies of love, compassion, and unity. The Creator didn’t program us to flow effortlessly; instead, we were designed to learn the melody, to find harmony through choice and intention.
I realized that the questioner’s challenge wasn’t about finding an answer for them it was about discovering the truth for myself. Humanity’s struggle is its beauty. The scars we bear, the storms we weather, the uphill battles we fight all of it shapes us into something extraordinary. Unlike the heart that beats or the lungs that breathe without effort, our souls grow through effort. And in that growth, we reflect the Creator’s infinite love and creativity.
So now, when I think of that questioner, I feel gratitude. They didn’t just ask me to answer a question; they invited me on a journey. And in that journey, I’ve come to see the struggle not as a burden, but as a gift a divine invitation to become more, to reach higher, to tune into the Creator’s ultimate design.
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