Just Asking Questions

The very first question in the Bible does not come from God, Adam, or Eve. It comes from the serpent.

“Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” (Gen. 3:1)

On the surface, it looks like a simple yes-or-no question. But it isn’t. It’s a deceptive, leading question, designed to reframe reality before Eve ever answers.

The serpent technically gets part of the facts right. God did forbid eating from a tree. But he frames the prohibition in the most distorted way possible, as if God were withholding everything rather than one thing. The question is deliberately negative. It casts God as withholding and suspect.

Eve responds:

“And the woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, “You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.”’” (Gen. 3:2–3)

Notice what happens. Eve does not answer with a simple yes or no. She clarifies, which is the correct instinct. But she also subtly alters God’s word. God never said, “neither shall you touch it.” That addition suggests that the serpent’s question has already begun to do its work.

The goal was never truth-seeking. It was to destabilize the authority of God’s word.

The serpent’s question pushes Eve away from objective revelation (“What did God actually say?”) toward subjective interpretation (“How does this feel? What seems reasonable?”). It invites her to evaluate God rather than submit to Him. The question was not neutral. It was a wedge.

Not all questions are innocent. Some are weapons.

We see this again and again in Scripture. The Pharisees question Jesus not to learn, but to trap Him. Their questions are often structured as false dilemmas, A or B, when the truth doesn’t belong to either option. If you accept their framing, they already have you. The dominoes are lined up.

That same tactic is everywhere today. People say, *“I’m just asking questions,” but the questions are doing heavy ideological work. If you don’t choose A or B, you’re accused of taking “the third way,” as if there are only three options. In reality, there may be ten, or a hundred. The dilemma itself is fake. The question is a steering mechanism.

By contrast, the Bereans ask questions that are genuinely authoritative and submissive:

They examine Paul’s claims by the standard of Scripture.

Their questions are tethered to an external authority. They are not asking Scripture to justify itself to them; they are asking whether Paul’s teaching conforms to what God has already spoken. That’s the difference.

In the case of the Bereans, it should also stand out that Paul is not offended by them going to the Scriptures. He doesn’t demand allegiance to himself. Paul understands that he is a man under authority. The allegiance is to God and to His revealed truth, not to Paul as a personality.

That’s where you see a subtle slide of hand in manipulative ministries and personality cults. Officially, they’ll say Scripture is the authority, but in practice the authority becomes the communicator of Scripture. The line between God’s revelation and the man delivering it gets blurred.

Sometimes it goes so far that faith is lodged in the personality rather than in the Word itself. Question the interpretation, and it’s treated as questioning the truth. That’s not how Paul operates, and it’s not how the Bereans think.

Paul welcomes scrutiny because the standard isn’t him. The Word is.

So one of the most important diagnostic questions you can ask about any question is this:

Is the question actually seeking an answer, or is it trying to smuggle in a conclusion?

If the answer is treated as “self-evident,” then the next question must be asked plainly:
Self-evident according to what authority?

When pressed, people often retreat to vagueness: “Do your own research.” We saw these with the QAnon hysteria. Or they hide behind posture: “I’m just asking questions.” This allows them to imply truths that are neither self-evident nor grounded in any objective standard, while avoiding accountability for the claim itself.

That’s the trick.

It’s not accidental that the last question in the Bible mirrors this reality in reverse. In Revelation 18:18, the sailors cry out at the fall of Babylon:

“What city was like the great city?”

That’s not a real inquiry. It’s a rhetorical question of lament. The answer is obvious: none. The greatest city of man has fallen, and its uniqueness only becomes clear in its destruction. That question clears the stage for the city of God, which does not rise from human power and cannot be undone. It is the greatest city.

So Scripture begins with a deceptive question meant to undermine God’s goodness, and it ends with a lamenting question that exposes the fragility of man’s glory.

Questions matter.
Their framing matters.
Their authority matters.

And no one is ever “just asking questions.”

One question that will inevitably be asked about this article is, who is this about? And yes, people will say, “This is obviously about Candace Owens, right?” It does apply to her. She’s guilty of this. But she’s not the first, and she won’t be the last.

At the very beginning of East River, I was openly critical of QAnon and its false prophecies. We lost several families over it. Oh well.

That’s not what this is really about anyway. This is about learning to discern biblically. It’s about not having your life tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine, every new trend, every charismatic personality who claims to see what others don’t.

We weathered Rob Bell. We weathered Brian McLaren. We will weather many others. The names change. The tactic doesn’t.

The point is not identifying the latest villain (or hero). The point is learning how to test spirits, recognize leading questions, and keep your allegiance anchored to the Word, not to whoever happens to sound confident this week.

Listen to whoever you want. Ask questions. But be cautious and biblical. Be an actual Berean.