There are times when I pray because I genuinely don’t know what to do.
I ask the Most High for clarity.
Insight.
Understanding.
Direction.
And sometimes?
I still don’t know.
Those moments have been uncomfortable for me because uncertainty can create its own kind of urgency.
If I don’t know what’s happening, I want information.
If I don’t know what to do next, I want instructions.
If I’ve been waiting for a while, I would particularly appreciate those instructions sooner rather than later. 😆
And when clarity doesn’t come as quickly as I’d like, my thoughts can start wandering.
Am I missing something?
Did I do something wrong?
Is God listening?
Is He still near?
But over time, I’ve started considering another possibility.
What if I don’t always need new information yet?
What if sometimes I need to remember what I already know?
When the Teacher Gets Quiet
I think about school.
During class, the teacher is usually available to explain.
They introduce new material, answer questions, demonstrate concepts, correct misunderstandings, and give us opportunities to practice.
Then exam day comes.
And suddenly the same teacher who had plenty to say during class is standing at the front of the room in silence.
Excuse me?
You were extremely vocal on Tuesday. 😆
But the teacher’s silence during the exam doesn’t mean the teacher has abandoned the students.
Instruction has already happened.
Now there’s an opportunity to remember, apply, and demonstrate what we’ve learned.
I’ve wondered whether some quiet periods in my spiritual life might offer something similar.
Not because I believe every silence means the Most High is testing me. I don’t know that.
But I’ve started asking a different question.
Instead of immediately thinking,
Why aren’t You telling me something new?
I can ask:
What have You already given me that I can use here?
Scripture I’ve studied.
Lessons I’ve learned.
Experiences I’ve survived.
Wisdom someone gave me years ago.
Moments when I was uncertain before and eventually gained understanding.
Reminders I’ve written down specifically because I knew there would probably come a day when I needed to remember them.
Sometimes the information isn’t new.
Maybe I’m finally in a situation that requires me to use it.
When Waiting Is the Next Step
I’ve also had to confront something I don’t particularly enjoy admitting.
Sometimes when I’ve repeatedly asked what I should do next…
I was still supposed to be waiting.
I just didn’t want to. 🙃😆
That’s different from not having direction.
Sometimes the direction hasn’t changed.
Wait.
And waiting can be incredibly uncomfortable when my nerves are telling me:
DO SOMETHING.
I’ve had to learn that urgency and instruction aren’t necessarily the same thing.
Sometimes urgency is anxiety.
Sometimes it’s impatience.
Sometimes I’ve become tired of uncertainty and want movement because movement at least feels like something is happening.
But moving simply because I’m uncomfortable being still can create problems of its own.
Sometimes I have to ask:
Is there actually something I’m supposed to do right now, or am I trying to escape the discomfort of not knowing?
Whew.
I don’t always like the answer. 😆
Trusting While I’m Still Confused
Recently, I was waiting for an appointment that mattered to me.
I had been thinking about it all week and wishing Friday would hurry up and arrive.
By Friday morning, I was nervous.
And for once, I didn’t have much to say.
So I sat on my bed.
I breathed deeply.
I became still.
And I reminded myself of what I already knew.
I can trust the Most High.
He is in control.
I am looking for answers.
I’m taking appropriate steps toward getting more information.
That was it.
I didn’t suddenly know what was going to happen.
I didn’t receive an explanation for everything that concerned me.
Nothing miraculous happened that removed the uncertainty.
I was still confused about some things.
But my mindset changed.
My nerves settled.
The information I didn’t have became a little less overwhelming because I remembered what I did have.
I had done what was mine to do.
Now I could take the next available step.
And where no next step existed yet, I could wait.
Hidden in Plain Sight
Sometimes when I feel uncertain, I wonder whether I’m overlooking something.
Maybe the answer is hidden in plain sight.
But lately I’ve been considering that perhaps what I’m missing isn’t always another answer.
Sometimes I may be looking so hard for the next instruction that I fail to notice that I haven’t been instructed to move yet.
There is a difference.
And learning that difference requires attention.
There are moments when courage means taking the next step even though I’m afraid.
There are other moments when courage means resisting the urge to manufacture a next step because waiting makes me uncomfortable.
Both require trust.
I’m still learning which moment I’m in.
Sacred Pause
Think about something you’re currently asking for clarity about.
Is there information you genuinely still need?
If so, acknowledge that.
You don’t have to pretend you know something you don’t.
But then consider:
What do you already know?
What have you learned that still applies here?
Is there Scripture you return to?
Wisdom someone you trust has given you?
A previous experience that reminds you that uncertainty eventually became clearer?
And perhaps the most uncomfortable question:
Is there actually another step available right now, or are you feeling pressure to move because waiting is difficult?
Sometimes we need direction.
Sometimes we need courage to act.
And sometimes we need patience long enough for more information to arrive.
Scripture for the Season
“Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.”
— Psalm 27:14
Waiting and courage appear together.
I appreciate that more now.
Because sometimes waiting requires far more courage than moving.
Carry This With You
I’m learning that trust doesn’t require me to understand everything first.
I can still have questions.
I can still seek answers.
I can acknowledge what I don’t know without allowing uncertainty to convince me that I’ve been abandoned.
Sometimes I need new information.
Sometimes I need to act on what I’ve already learned.
And sometimes I need to recognize that there is nothing else for me to do yet.
When that’s the case, I can breathe.
I can remember.
I can pay attention to what is already in front of me.
And I can resist rushing simply because standing still feels uncomfortable.
I’m learning that slowing down doesn’t necessarily delay the journey.
Sometimes slowing down is what allows me to experience it more fully.
I’ve seen that on difficult trails, where the scenery and what I learned about myself made the effort worthwhile.
And I’ve seen it in ordinary life, when taking longer than I intended produced something far more meaningful than rushing ever would have.
Maybe I don’t always need to know the entire path.
Sometimes I need enough clarity for the step that’s available, enough patience when it isn’t, and enough trust to know the difference.
