Take my mid-afternoon slump at work, when I want to bolt across the country. What fears am I fleeing? I am afraid of a meaningless existence, a life in which no adventure happens. I am afraid of never getting married. I am afraid the difficult things in my life will never improve. And these are not small fears. To fear meaninglessness is to recognize that as a human I was made for splendor, and to wonder if the God who made me this way will also satisfy this need, which is the same as wondering if He is good.
I may not be aware, as I sit there in my cubicle, that my agitation results from an uneasiness about God. But in my restlessness, I might do some pretty destructive things. I might be unproductive because I can't concentrate. I might go and have a stupid conversation with someone, a conversation in which I don't really love the person I'm talking to, because I'm trying to silence my fear. I might spend a panicky half-hour planning a particular future for myself that I'm never going to follow through on.
The alternative is to wait: to sit with my fear for a while, hold onto my questions without answers.