I’m not sure if this is the way life works or if it’s just the way it is happening for me, but the older I get the more unsure I am about what I know.
If you asked me a year ago I would’ve said I admired the people who seemed to know where they were going. Those who were confident about where they had been, and what life held for their future. The ones who made good decisions and had few regrets.
Do such people even exist?
Today, I find myself admiring the ones who know very little for sure. The ones who look back on their journey with both joy and regret, laughter and tears. The ones honest enough to share their own failures.
Brave enough to be willing to change.
Because I’m learning that nothing in this life is sure. No thought, dream, expectation, hope or vision we can conceive by our own mind can ever hold sure with the reality of this broken world. Can ever share space with with the certainty of our broken lives.
Because in every one of us is a story. Carved on the walls of our hearts we carry the burdens on our backs. Yes, we are who we are for a reason.
But it doesn’t mean we get to stay that way.
It doesn’t mean that God doesn’t have a purpose for our past and a plan of redemption for our future.
I believe that out of our greatest suffering will be His highest glory, and out of our deepest wounds will birth our greatest gifts.
It’s no accident that your passion stirs your fears, or your purpose rouses your pain.
Every experience in our life is meant to refine us. To break us so that we can be molded to Him. So that we can become less sure of what we think we know, and trust in what He has already planned.
When we begin letting go of all we think we know, and start making space for comfort in the midst of uncertainty, is when we find He is unfailing.
We begin to see that in our despair, He is offering us joy.
Life is rarely as it seems.
One look beneath the surface and we realize appearances are deceiving. However convincing they may be, perception is not reality. Everything we think we know is not as sure as we thought it was.
The older I get the less I know for sure.
The less interested I am in what is right.
As uncomfortable as that might be, and as contrary to this world as we’ve been taught, it is the only thing that makes sense. Because who am I to think that I could ever understand eternity? That my perception could ever coincide with the Creator?
Who am I to believe I have any room to judge?
If there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that I am sure I know nothing.
And the older I get and the further along down life’s road, I am sure that I am far more interested in a kind heart than a made-up mind. More interested in a gracious spirit than any of man’s laws.
Part of a rich life is learning from our mistakes. Learning to change our mind. Accepting that we know nothing with any certainty but that we were made to love. And I think that just might be enough.