When I was little, I was called Why Why Barker.
It wasn’t really a compliment. More of a family nickname. A mix of affection and mild exasperation. I was the kid who asked “why” at every turn. Why do I have to wear shoes? (as Mum or Dad was trying to get us ready to leave for something) Why do I have to go to school? (when putting my uniform on) Why do I have to go to bed when I’m not tired? (whilst yawning).
My questions weren’t profound. They were ordinary, sometimes – no probably most of the time, annoying. But they came from the same place – a restless desire to see what was underneath. That nickname stuck longer than I thought it would. And the truth is, I never really grew out of it.
That curiosity has shaped so much of my life. It’s made me a good researcher. I want to know how things work. I want to follow the trail, gather the details, pay attention to what others might overlook. But curiosity isn’t only useful for study. It’s also what opens me up to wonder. It slows me down. It draws me into possibility. It helps me dream with God.
I remember being lucky enough to visit EPCOT as a kid. Disney’s big experiment in the future. Some of it was clunky. Some of it already felt dated. But the whole place carried this hum of what if?
What if life could be different?
What if the world could be better than it is now?
What if imagination could shape reality?
That’s what curiosity feels like to me. Not just wrestling with what is, but daring to ask what could be. And when I bring that into faith, it feels even bigger.
Curiosity becomes holy imagination. It becomes dreaming with God.
And that changes everything.
Because when I dare to dream with God, the ordinary moments of my life start to look different. The kitchen table, the walk to the shops, the quiet scroll through the loud news – they all become places where possibility flickers.
What if this conversation I’m having with a neighbour is more than small talk – what if it’s the seed of something holy? What if the creative idea scribbled in my notebook isn’t just a distraction – what if it’s an invitation? What if my tired prayers are still being gathered up – what if heaven is leaning in closer than I think?
Dreaming with God stretches my imagination beyond what I can manage or control. It reminds me that the kingdom of God is not some abstract idea for the future, but something that is already breaking in – mustard seeds growing in hidden soil, treasure buried in a field, yeast working its way through the dough.
Curiosity pulls me into those parables. It helps me see not just the struggle of what is, but the possibility of what could be.
And maybe that’s the real gift.
Curiosity has made me a good researcher. It’s taught me how to gather details, how to follow threads, how to see patterns. But more than that, it has taught me to notice wonder. To look again at the world and ask, what if? To believe that God’s dream for creation is still unfolding – and that I am invited into it.
So yes, I was Why Why Barker. And yes, I still am. But those questions are no longer just about how things work. They are about what could be. They are about learning to walk with God in the tension between what is and what is yet to come.
And maybe that’s what it means to be a curious follower.
This curiosity is what I see in Jesus.
The Bible never says, “Jesus was curious.” But his life is full of it.
He noticed the people others ignored – Zacchaeus in a tree, a widow giving two tiny coins, children at the edge of the crowd. He asked questions that opened people up instead of shutting them down. Who do you say I am? What do you want me to do for you? Why are you afraid? Do you love me?
He told stories that sparked imagination.
Jesus invited people not only to wrestle with reality but to glimpse possibility. He pointed to a kingdom that was breaking in, a world that could be different.
Curiosity has felt risky at times. It’s meant admitting that my neat answers don’t always fit. It’s meant holding questions I can’t resolve. It’s meant sitting in silence longer than I wanted to. But I’ve come to see that God isn’t threatened by my questions. In fact, I think he delights in them.
For me, curiosity has saved my faith more times than certainty ever has.
This is why curiosity is the first value of A Curious Follower.
To be a curious follower is to believe faith is alive, not static. That Jesus still unsettles and surprises. That the Spirit still whispers if only we pay attention. Curiosity keeps faith from going stale. It opens us to mystery. It helps us imagine. It helps us dream with God.
So let me end with questions.
What if curiosity isn’t a weakness but a gift?
What if God planted your questions to draw you closer?
What if the things you’ve been afraid to ask are the very places he wants to meet you?
Let these questions slow you down. Let your questions slow you down. Let them lead you deeper. Let them open your eyes to what is, but perhaps more importantly, what could be.
Because curiosity is not the end of faith – it might just be the beginning.
Josh | A Curious Follower
For those who are a little bit more curious – here are some of the stories I mentioned:
Zacchaeus up a tree (Luke 19:1–10)
The widow’s two coins (Mark 12:41–44)
Jesus’ questions: Who do you say I am? (Matthew 16:15) • What do you want me to do for you? (Mark 10:51) • Why are you afraid? (Matthew 8:26) • Do you love me? (John 21:15–17)
The mustard seed (Matthew 13:31–32)
The lost sheep (Luke 15:3–7)
A Curious Follower is a space for anyone learning to slow down, live with intention, and follow the quiet tug of something deeper. However you come, welcome. Thank you for being here.
If something in this reflection resonated, you’re invited to share it with someone, leave a thought below, or simply sit with the question in your own way.