Tell Me About…
By Anthony Casperson
4-5-25

“Did they just sit there for two hours talking about Warhammer?”

That is a question I asked myself after watching a YouTube video on the topic. And they weren’t talking about how to play the tabletop game set in that universe. Or even anything related to the rules of the game.

No, they spent those hours talking about the lore of the Warhammer universe. And only surface level lore, really. The way that the expert spoke about the various aspects of the story, it sounded like it could take years to get into the deeper areas of lore.

But it wasn’t the topic of Warhammer that made me ask that question from the beginning. I knew the topic from the title of the video—and chose to watch it because of that. Rather, it was the style of the video that truly fueled my interest in the question.

The person whose channel the video was on has begun a recent series where he asks a friend about something that they’re an expert in. He might only have a vague interest in the topic at hand, but that inclination leads to questions that he asks of his friends. And they’re more than happy to answer—which is kinda the place of a nerd in any area of topic.

While that is the natural flow of the video series, there was something about this Warhammer lore expert that made me want to lean in more and learn from him.

At first, I thought it was related to how easy to understand he made the lore. Sure, there’s a lot of obscure pieces of information, but he made it very digestible for someone who didn’t understand much more than the video’s host. (Talking about the space travel being more like sailing ships from the Age of Sail gave more information than several lectures on theoretical astrophysics.) But I’ve seen many beginner-friendly experts who didn’t draw me in the same way.

I started wondering if it was the manner of how the expert skimmed the surface of the topic that was the draw. Sure, he went a little deeper in a couple of areas, but always kept the conversation in shallower waters. And in those few areas where more in depth details arose—mostly because the host asked about them—the expert would chuckle with a warm smile and joke around about the weirdness of it. All with the intent of aiding the host in understanding. Usually by speaking on the broader topic that related to that detail.

But that thought led me to what I believe the answer was to why I was drawn in by the conversation. And it was when the expert asked the host what he knew about a very specific detail that I came to understand my what that draw was.

The expert wasn’t driving the conversation. He was letting the host’s questions guide the discussion. In so doing, he met the host where at the level he was at. And used the expert’s own enthusiasm on the topic to fuel the host’s desire to ask more and more questions. It was a self-propelled conversation led by the combination of their igniting interest and known enthusiasm.

As I thought more about this dynamic that drew me in, I considered how this is the type of thing that we followers of Jesus should do with our own faith. People should know that we are people of faith, and someone who can be approached with questions about it.

(Even if you don’t consider yourself an expert in faith, you are likely to know more about the topic than the person asking—as long as they are asking in good faith. And there is no shame in saying that you don’t currently know the answer, but are willing to look it up for them.)

While Deuteronomy 6:7 pertains more directly to parents teaching their children like this, the application of this type of teaching by discussion still applies to other relationships. The context of the passage explains that our relationship with God should be such a part of our lives that none would question it. But the verse itself shows the godly person teaching the truth of God when they’re sitting at the house or walking along the road. When they’re laying down for the night, and picked up again in the morning.

We should be willing and ready to answer questions while driving in our cars, or watching TV. Let our enthusiasm for God and his word be known so that others might ask us questions. And ask our own questions in return to see where the person we’re teaching is at.

Ultimately, we should think of it as a discussion that can pick up at any moment and just talk. Even if at the end we ask, did we just talk about this for two hours? (And if we feel like we don’t understand as much as we want, then take on the role of the learner and ask a person we know is more of an expert than we are.)

I’ve been on both sides of this questioner/expert conversation. Strangely, on both sides with the same person. Before I went to bible college and seminary, I would occasionally ask my dad questions about the bible and God. He’d answer to the best of his ability, and look up what he didn’t know. And now, he asks me questions that he doesn’t know the answers to. And I answer to the best of my ability.

The discussion of godly things doesn’t need to be some insurmountable task, as if the vast quantity of information overwhelms us. It should be an ongoing conversation between someone genuinely asking questions and another who knows the answer—or where to look it up.

You’d be surprised at how often a discussion starting with, “Tell me about…,” leads to hours passing by quickly.

So, let’s start asking questions and letting the conversation lead us to greater godliness.