Learning to Live With Unanswered Questions
I used to think that by this stage of life I would have more things figured out.
Maybe you thought the same thing.
When I was younger, I imagined there would come a point where life felt settled. The big decisions would be made, the path ahead would be clear, and I would finally know what I was doing.
Instead, here I am in my fifties, and there are still plenty of things I don’t know.
I don’t know exactly what the next few years will look like. I don’t know how every prayer I’m praying will be answered. I don’t know what doors God will open or close, or all the details of how He’s working behind the scenes.
If I’m being honest, I don’t particularly like that.
I’ve always been a planner. I like calendars and lists and knowing what’s next. I like having a plan, and if possible, a backup plan.
But life doesn’t seem interested in cooperating with my desire for certainty.
Some of My Biggest Steps Began With Questions, Not Answers
The longer I live, the more I realize that some of the biggest moments in my life began with unanswered questions.
When I adopted Grace from Russia, I had no idea how much that decision would shape the rest of my life.
When I first traveled overseas, I couldn’t have imagined where those trips would eventually lead.
When I sold my house and moved into an RV, I certainly didn’t have everything mapped out.
And when I stepped into ministry, I didn’t receive a five-year plan along with the calling.
Looking back, I can see how God connected all those pieces together. The interesting thing is, I could only see it in reverse.
At the time, each step felt uncertain. Each decision came with questions. There were plenty of moments when I wished God would just explain what He was doing and save me the wondering.
Instead, He usually showed me just enough for the next step.
Not the next ten.
Just the next one.
We Want Clarity First. God Asks for Trust First.
I’ve noticed that’s often how faith works.
We want clarity before we move forward.
God invites us to trust Him before we have it.
I’m not saying that’s easy. There have been seasons when I’ve stared at the numbers and wondered how things would work out. Seasons when I questioned whether I was making the right decision. Seasons when I wished for a little more certainty and a lot less dependence.
Maybe that’s why I find so much comfort in looking back.
Because when I look back, I see a trail of God’s faithfulness.
I see prayers answered differently than I expected, but better than I imagined.
I see closed doors that protected me from things I couldn’t see at the time.
I see relationships, opportunities, and experiences that never would have happened if everything had gone according to my plan.
Most of all, I see that God has never once left me alone in the uncertainty.
I Still Wish God Would Email Me a Five-Year Plan
I still like plans. I still like knowing what’s next.
So far, no email has arrived.
Instead, He keeps reminding me that peace doesn’t come from having everything figured out. It comes from knowing the One who does.
These days, I’m learning to hold my plans a little more loosely. To worry a little less about having it all figured out, and a little more about being faithful with what’s right in front of me.
Do I still wish I had more answers sometimes? Absolutely. I’d love to know exactly what the next few years will look like, how every prayer will be answered, how every piece fits together.
But that’s not how God has worked in my life.
Instead, He’s been teaching me something better than certainty. He’s been teaching me trust.
Adoption. Ministry. Kenya. Living in an RV. None of those chapters came with guarantees. Every one of them brought blessings I never could have planned for.
So maybe the goal isn’t to have all the answers.
Maybe it’s learning to trust God enough to take the next step without them.
I’m still learning. Still waiting on some answers. Still asking plenty of questions.
But I’ve stopped needing the unanswered ones to feel like absence. Most days now, they just feel like an invitation.
And after all these years, He’s never once given me a reason to turn it down.