Be Curious, Not Judgemental
On geese, grace, and glimpses of the Kingdom.
“Be curious, not judgemental.”
– Often misattributed to Walt Whitman, popularised by Ted Lasso, but perhaps best lived by Jesus.
I remember watching the scene in Ted Lasso for the first time and hearing that phrase delivered with disarming clarity. It was in one of those unexpected moments – a darts match, of all things – where something bigger broke through. “Be curious, not judgemental.” Simple. Profound. And for me, foundational.
Not long after, I found myself scribbling that same sentence into one of many notebooks. Then underlining it. Then writing it again. Because something about it captured the essence of what I hadn’t quite had the words to name – a way of seeing. A way of being. A way of following.
Not with clenched fists and furrowed brows, but with open hands and wondering eyes.
A curious follower.
That’s the name I’ve given this space – and, maybe in some small way, to myself too. Not because I’ve arrived. Not because I have all the answers. But because I think following Jesus was always meant to be less about certainty and more about trust. Less about defending positions and more about walking alongside people. Less about knowing it all and more about noticing the grace right in front of us – in the everyday, the overlooked, the fragile in-between.
We live in a world that moves fast and decides faster. Swipe left. Cancel. Retweet. Categorise. Move on. There’s so little room for nuance, for tension, for gentle unravelling. And when faith gets caught up in that same rush – when Christian community starts speaking in slogans instead of stories – something sacred gets lost.
But curiosity is different.
Curiosity slows down. It leans in. It asks better questions. It doesn’t assume. It doesn’t need to win the argument. It doesn’t shut down mystery. Curiosity creates space – for complexity, for compassion, and crucially, for encounter. Curiosity is not weakness. It’s strength, rooted in humility. It’s a doorway to grace – and sometimes, to the Kingdom breaking in through the cracks.
And I think Jesus was endlessly curious.
He told stories with holes in them – open-ended parables that left people scratching their heads and searching their hearts. He asked over three hundred questions in the gospels and gave far fewer direct answers. He walked dusty roads with doubters. He paused for the woman at the well. He ate with tax collectors and sinners. He saw something in people that no one else did – not because He judged them, but because He was curious enough to look deeper.
Curiosity, I’m learning, is what love looks like when it stops rushing.
It’s what happens when we choose not to write each other off. It’s the decision to hold space for someone’s story without needing to edit it. It’s the discipline of listening not just to respond, but to understand. It’s a form of worship – a quiet act of reverence in a noisy, opinionated world.
That’s what A Curious Follower is for.
It isn’t a platform for perfect theology. It’s not here to convert or convince. It’s not only for those who feel comfortable wandering without a map – it’s also for those who’ve spent years trying to draw the map to scale, but are beginning to wonder if faith was ever meant to be that precise. It’s for those who still carry questions – maybe even the same ones they’ve whispered to God for years – and are learning to hold them with gentler hands. It’s for the tired, the hopeful, the in-between. It’s for those whose faith doesn’t fit in neat boxes, but who are still longing to glimpse the Kingdom – even if just in part, even through tears.
It’s for people like me. And maybe like you too.
I’ll be sharing reflections, stories, thoughts on rest and rhythm – letters from the edge of things. There’ll be poetry and psalms. Conversations and questions. And a goose or two – because geese travel in formation, take turns leading, and honk encouragement to each other as they go. That’s the kind of community I’m hoping to build here – one where no one flies alone. A space to be held by grace, and to hold space for others too.
But this is also a space to be called to the wild, to follow the wild goose, the untameable Spirit of God. In the Celtic tradition, the Holy Spirit isn’t pictured as a delicate dove, but as a wild goose – free, surprising, full of movement and wind. This Spirit doesn’t always stick to the well-worn paths. Here, we follow together like geese in flight – but we also make space to be led off the beaten track and into the wild.
Because that’s where grace is thickest. That’s where curiosity becomes courage. And that’s where glimpses of the Kingdom often appear – sudden, special, and full of light.
So here’s to curiosity. To geese. To grace. To those small, holy glimpses of the Kingdom.
And to following Jesus, not with judgement in our hearts, but with wonder.
Josh | A Curious Follower
If this stirred something in you – if you, too, want to follow with curiosity – you can subscribe, share, or simply keep coming back. There’s no pressure. Just permission.