“I have enough answers; I want the faith to know that those answers are sufficient.”
A few years ago I had the unpleasant privilege of walking through a series of trials that brought me to the lowest point I’d ever been in my life, yet ultimately resulted in amazing, treasured lessons. It was a systemic failure in the areas of my life I most esteemed. Call it a quarter-life crisis, if you will. Figuratively speaking, I hit the ground, rolled a few times, and slowly came to a stop on a busy street. The confidence I had in my leadership, education, skills, and motivation not only crumbled, I swung a sledgehammer at it too, because it sucked. I confessed that much of what I’d known and believed about myself and the world were castles of sand, and the waves had just washed them away—I was undone. Since that point, I've built in and learned many lessons. At the present moment, I want to write about one, because it’s a weird conundrum, and it might help someone who might be reading.
It all started in the year 2005, shortly after receiving a bachelor’s degree. I faced the terror of selecting some sort of long-term career path (funny how what was terrifying then seems trivial now). I feared these decisions because the nagging thought of choosing the “wrong” path. Would I perpetually, unnecessarily suffer because of my unwise decision? Would I miss out on the abundance of blessings God wanted to bestow on me had I chosen “wrongly?” So, like a good Christian I prayed to God. After a few weeks, I thought His answer was for me to apply for an internship. Fantastic, God led me to this job. Crisis avoided! And by implication, He also made the decision for me. Choice avoided! (More on Choice in a future entry) A few weeks into the internship, all was well and rosy. But just a few months later, all was unwell and unrosy. So I chatted with my dad about it. The sum total of our conversation, in his exact words, was “RUN AWAY FAST.” Thanks for the pep talk, dad. A week or so later I chatted with a respectable Christian businessman to get more advice. The exact words that came out of his mouth were “RUN AWAY FAST.” Seeing that I never mentioned a word my dad had spoken, the fact that this man spoke the exact same phrase as my dad was too coincidental. This was the moment my conundrum began.
It was a conundrum because I thought, beyond all shadow of a doubt, God had led me to this job. But how, then, could two Christian men who I respected tell me the exact same thing—word-for-word—to get out? Over and over, this tug-o-war replayed in my mind. I analyzed it all until my brain turned to mush. A year and a half into the job, though there were many lessons learned from replaying the tape over and over again, I still didn’t have a satisfactory answer (though were it to happen now, I would have taken the advice of those men much sooner, for reasons I’ll save for the entry about Choice).
So five years later, in the year 2012, the conundrum still stands, but by choice. It’s not unlike the Uncertainty Principle, a physics concept which states that there are things in existence that, if their momentum is first measured, then their position can no longer be determined, but if their position is first determined, then their momentum can no longer be measured. Similarly, despite the unanswered question as to the “right” or “wrong” choice, I’ve been given the grace to trust that God is good. I could, however, attempt to answer and explain this question with some hindsight, gaining a lesson as a result. But in doing this, I would lose the treasured, continuing experience and reminder of trusting my Father in the face of extreme uncertainty. So I choose not to do that. I have enough answers; I want the faith to know that those answers are sufficient.
This faith tells me that sucky, messy, uncertainties exist in life—unanswered questions, if you will. Some are answered quickly, some remain unanswered indefinitely. But despite these uncertainties, there are also absolute certainties for those who are in Christ. Because whether or not an answer is given or uncovered, we can be certain that God uses all things for the good of those who love Him. And what is our ultimate good? It’s to bring Him glory. We do this, in large part, by knowing Him more and being transformed into His likeness. So whether sailing waters certain or uncertain, if my greatest desire—my ultimate goal—is really to know Him more and become more like Him, and indeed He uses all things to accomplish this end, then I can’t lose. And with this in mind, I gloriously press on.
