The Gift of Uncertainty--or simply put the gift of saying "I don't know"

“Faith is a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear of uncertainty.”

― Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are

            We are working with Marcia McFee and Eric Elnes material for “Gifts of the Dark Wood" this Lent.  This past Sunday we talked about the gift of uncertainty.  We really don't like to be uncertain as a general rule but it is in this very vulnerable moment when we can be our full risk taking, God reliant, glorious selves.

            Brene Brown did a Ted talk (Ted Conferences on line) about vulnerability and she spoke of how we know that people are afraid of being vulnerable when we hear statements like "I am right your wrong-now shut up!"  It is interesting to think that the desire to be right, the desire to know the beginning, middle and end, the desire to know should make us feel safer yet it often distances us from relationships.  At the end of the day does being right or knowing more keep us company in a way that a trusted friend might?  Mind you by trusted I do not mean all agreeing, all right, all knowing friend.

            We talked on Sunday about being okay with saying "I don't know."  I took this picture of Swan Island in Richmond.  Now I know a lot about this place, I lived across the river for over 25 years.  I know that there are deer there, and I know where homes once stood and what the inside of some looked like.  I know where to get water, and that wild rice grows at one end, I know that children who once lived there drowned in the river because of the strong undertow and I know that the raccoons are enormous!  I know about Swan Island, I know how my heart feels when I remember it but----I do not know what is behind the mist in this picture--I think I know--but really "I don't know." 

            There is something beyond the mist and if you and I stood there together I could fake my way through telling you what was there, and you may or may not be interested, and you may or may not believe me but what if we stood there and wondered together?  What would it feel like to be open to no clear answer until the fog lifted?  Would we turn to each other in surprise or disappointment? Would we laugh or exclaim aha at the same time?  The truth is we would connect in a way that only our shared vulnerability would allow.

Eric Elnes reminds us of this-“The great saints did not become saints by moving from uncertainty to clarity.  They moved, rather, from uncertainty to trust, which requires the ongoing presence of uncertainty…they also moved from failure to faithfulness rather than from failure to success, which requires the ongoing possibility of failure.”

What do I know about the morning?  Not a lot.  How do I face the night anticipating the unknown?   I share the stars with others who wonder with me.

Brandi Carlile sings In the Morrow

“I found myself today

I took my cross and walked away

With amazing grace and open eyes

Even though I’m born to lose my way.”