I Don’t Know (And That’s A Good Thing)

As a new teacher, the scariest thing in the world was a question I couldn’t answer.

I figured the students were looking for any cracks in the armor, and not-knowing seemed like the ultimate weakness. So I manipulated and managed my classroom to make sure I looked like the expert. Controlling every detail required an enormous amount of effort, and it wasn’t much fun.

I learned pretty quickly that living in fear of “I’m not sure” was no way to operate a classroom. I also learned that the best questions were those whose answers I couldn’t predict. I learned that true, authentic learning can’t be scripted and that my students appreciated an honest “let’s work through this together.”

I suspect new teachers aren’t alone in their desire for certainty. I wonder how many of us live in that same fear of any sort of ambiguity. How often do you and I hide behind a facade of superficial certainty? Do we, like modern Pharisees, manufacture rules that provide the illusion of control and assurance while choking the life out of our lives?

I’ve learned, I think, that most worthwhile journeys begin with trust and faith rather than a certain destination. A journey that matters is an open-ended question. We ask, knowing we don’t know where the inquiry will lead.

Our culture rewards the safe bet, the sure thing. We prize control and detailed plans. Security. Safety. Predictability.

“Follow Me,” it seems, invites us to journey. Open-ended. The cost? Potentially…everything.

We follow the God-sized dream, but we can’t know where it leads or what will happen along the way. It’s about trust and hope defined by faith that God keeps His promises.

I don’t know how that works. And that’s okay.