I formally studied psychology in school, but I love the topic so much that I often do research on my own. The human mind fascinates me, and the complexities of it are astounding. The day I got to hold a human brain in one of my classes was probably my favourite day in all four years of university. Some people think I’m weird, but let’s just say, this is how my brain functions.

In a very non-creepy way, when I talk to people, my mind is in the conversation, but I’m also trying to figure out what’s going on in the other person’s mind. Why did they say what said? Why are they doing what they’re doing? Why are they feeling the way they’re feeling? I try to connect all the dots, and I trust that this allows me to have a better understanding of the person I’m interacting with. I want to understand people – and part of the journey of understanding means that I have to be careful not to assume anything or fill in pieces of the puzzle that haven’t been given to me yet.

How do I attempt to get access to the puzzle pieces of one’s brain? Asking questions.

I love meeting someone new and asking questions about their life. I love sitting with good friends and digging deeper into their heart to understand how they tick. I love conversations with people who are going through struggles and asking them questions to help them process what’s going on. I love listening to good interviews and taking notes of what types of questions they ask.

Asking questions reveals a lot about people.

And people want to reveal themselves. We are wired to want to be known and to feel like we belong somewhere and to someone. The two extreme sides of personalities are that some people will naturally just express everything going on in their mind, and for others, it takes a lot more work and time to mine for the gold in their mind. Wherever you fit on the scale, I can almost guarantee that you enjoy it when someone (even if it’s just one specific person) takes interest in your life and asks questions that go beyond the surface.

Humans are like icebergs – 10% of yourself is revealed to the common person, 90% is hidden below the surface. That 90% is, in my mind, the gold I want to dig for.

Asking questions is a form of art, but I’m beginning to believe that it’s becoming a lost art. As I interact with people, I’m noticing a trend that people have no idea how to ask questions. They are quite skilled in talking about themselves, or other people. Often times there is a genuine interest in wanting to get to know others, but getting below the surface is a struggle. Like any art, learning to ask questions is messy and frustrating, but the effort pays off when the recipient of your questions gets a boost of feeling loved – and when anyone feels loved and acknowledged, they can continue on their day with more confidence and appreciation.

To the spectator’s eye, I’m living the dream. I’m living in what I’m told is the most beautiful part of Germany for half a year, and with living in Europe, comes easy travel to so many other amazing counties. The history is rich, the bread surpasses anything you could ever buy in Canada, the architecture is stunning and delicate, and the cafes are on point.

So why, as I roam through beautiful Vienna, do I ask myself why I feel miserable?

“You’re walking the streets of Vienna, Madi. Get yourself together. Stop grumbling, and remember how spoiled you are right now. Go experience all the world has to offer!”

This shouldn’t have to be a thought of any traveller – at least, that’s what social media fools the everyday person to believe.

(Now, I do wholeheartedly believe that travel can be exciting and life giving, and a fresh perspective of the world can be gained, so this all might just be a personal state of being and irrelevant to the rest of the world).

I don’t ‘tourist’ well, or so I’m learning about myself currently. What’s the point, I ask myself. I walk the streets feeling lonely and homesick for ‘my people’ (travelling with ‘your people’ would drastically alter this narrative). I feel empty and purposeless, even though I get to be in some of the most beautiful cities in Europe over my holiday break. I look at the picture portrayed of each city and wonder what secrets it’s hiding in the darkest corners. There’s so much to learn about history in museums, and I’m grateful to be able to gain a deeper understanding of our past, but I desire to live in today and press into the issues that face our world in the here and now.

Being a tourist in this world, in a metaphorical sense, is not the life we are called to live – it’s not how we’re designed to live. Being a tourist focuses on your own wants and desires, and forgets about the topics that Jesus’ heart was most passionate about. Jesus modelled a life of service, a life of love, a life beyond Himself. He did life with people – and together they had purpose. Our world tells us that fame, fortune, travel, etc. is what will bring happiness, but, based on my own current experience, when I think of the life of Jesus, I really see what He was getting at.

When I reflect on my life and consider when I feel closest to God and connected to this world, it’s hanging out with my family in the kitchen; it’s when I’m with the kids at the weekly after school program; it’s spending time with someone who has reached rock bottom; it’s going out to a favourite local pub and chat about how to solve all the world’s problems; it’s simply journeying through life with my small group girls for the last seven years. And it’s when my heart utterly rips to shreds for the things that break God’s heart – that is when I feel closest to Him.

It’s the day to day. It’s real world living. It’s a life beyond the self.

Maybe all this rambling comes from feeling homesick over the holidays, or maybe it’s just my personality. Or maybe this has been an accumulation of thoughts over the last three months that has some truth behind if. If that’s the case, as 2018 begins, can I challenge you to not be a tourist in this world? Resist the envy that comes from seeing people’s extravagant lives, because so often there’s a story they aren’t telling. Embrace the mess that comes from truly living in this world – that’s often where you’ll experience the most joy.