Gift of Uncertainty
One week after reading a particularly challenging book in book club, we discussed how it would be nice if everyone got what they wanted and none of the hard things happened. In the conversation, though, we realized that we’d never read a book where there is no conflict and everything is perfect -- uncertainty is the thing that binds us with the stories becuase life is uncertain no matter our plans or attempts to make it certain. The reason we are interested in a story is because we want to see the process of overcoming, we want to experience the embodiment of hope alongside the characters, we want to see good win over evil.
When studying the Book of Revelation, many of us were upset by the idea that in heaven there might not be any more tears. Of course, I want an end of the tears that are shed because of violence and tragedy, but I want tears of joys, tears of laughter, tears of surprise in heaven.
This week, we have been leaning into the gift of uncertainty, a quote from John Ortberg’s Faith and Doubt has stuck with me: “We all think we want certainty. But we don’t. What we really want is trust, wisely placed. Trust is better than certainty because it honors the freedom of persons and makes possible growth and intimacy that certainty alone could never produce.”
People look for new jobs when work feels stagnant. Marriages can unravel when spontaneity disappears. We put down books with no conflict. While there are forms of uncertainty — violence, illness, natural disasters — that we would never choose, I wonder how we might intentionally welcome other kinds of uncertainty into our lives.
What surprises might we find when we shake things up a bit?
Start a conversation we’ve been avoiding.
Take a class in something we’ve always been curious about.
Pray without a script.
Invite someone new to the table.
Say yes when we would normally say no.
Perhaps the uncertainty we choose — the holy kind — is not chaos but possibility. Perhaps it is the space where trust grows, where love deepens, where we discover parts of ourselves we didn’t know were waiting.
What surprises might meet us there?
Blessings,
Pastor Lauren