I have a confession to make.
I like to run.
Not in the “let’s-go-for-a-nice-run-outside-while-it’s-still-nice-out” kind of running, or the “did-you-know-I-burn-12,000,329,310-calories-when-I-hit-the-treadmill” kind of running.
No, I run away from the unknown. Because the unknown terrifies me.
I like safety, I like comfort, I like having answers. I like to know what I’m going to say before I say it. I like being able to offer answers in a world of unknown. Because here, in the world where I have answers and knowledge and all those lovely things, it is safe. It doesn’t require much of me.
But it’s in places of unknown where much is required of me. In those places I am most vulnerable, offering up a humble reply of, “I don’t know,” and trusting that in my weakness, He is strong.
But I still do it. I run away from the topic of homosexuality, because I just want to avoid the inevitable question, “But doesn’t the Bible say that because I love another man I’m sinning against His Word?” I run away from the topic of knowing what God’s Word says about divorce, and yet knowing that no matter what it says, it never seems the right answer amidst heartache and pain and unfaithfulness. I want to run away when a Believer dates a non-Christian, because although the Bible warns that darkness has no place with light, and that we are not to be unequally yoked, my answers seem weightless in the light of the imminent response, “But you can’t judge my relationship – who am I to judge their beliefs and whether or not they believe in God? Who am I to tell them that I can’t be with them, just because their beliefs aren’t the same as mine?”
And in those questions, in those unknowns, I sink backwards towards where it is safe. Back to my world of knowing the answers, of knowing where I stand, of just simply knowing.
But I have to think sometimes. I’m not sure that’s where God always wants me to be.
I’m not sure if He wants me to live my life in the safety of my comfortable place, in the place where I understand everything.
I don’t think He thinks less of me because I know so very little. I don’t think He’s disappointed in me, when in those times of confusion, when I just don’t know or have any answers, I surrender my not knowing up to Him.
In fact, I think He may love it. Because if we didn’t know so very little afterall, we’d never need the One who knows all.