Posted on August 3, 2026 by Rev. Nathan Grewe, tLMHC
Godly Living
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Recently, I found myself sitting in a place that many people know far better than they ever wanted to. I was experiencing symptoms that didn’t make sense. There were headaches. Questions. Appointments. Treatments. Notes scribbled into a journal.
Some days were worse than others. Some interventions seemed to help a little. Others didn’t seem to change much at all. More evaluations were scheduled. More tests were ordered. And somewhere along the way, I began hearing a phrase that is common in medicine, counseling, and life: “We don’t know yet.”
Not “everything is fine.” Not “here is the answer.” Not even “this is definitely the problem.” Just: “We don’t know yet.”
As a counselor and pastor, I have walked alongside many people in seasons like this. Sometimes the uncertainty was physical. Sometimes emotional. Sometimes relational. Sometimes spiritual.
A person wonders why their anxiety suddenly feels overwhelming. A couple cannot understand why their marriage feels distant. Someone struggles with fatigue, pain, or symptoms that don’t fit neatly into a diagnosis. A grieving person asks why life feels so different months after a loss. A believer prays for clarity and hears only silence.
Different stories. Different circumstances. The same uncomfortable reality: “I don’t know.”
Most of us do not realize how much we rely on certainty until it disappears. We assume that if something is wrong, someone will explain it. If we ask enough questions, eventually we will receive answers. If we gather enough information, we will finally feel settled.
Sometimes that happens. Sometimes it doesn’t. At least not right away.
What I have been learning recently is that uncertainty creates its own kind of suffering. The symptoms themselves may be difficult. The problem itself may be real. But alongside those realities comes another burden: the burden of not knowing.
How serious is this? How long will it last? What if the next treatment doesn’t work? What if the test finds something? What if it doesn’t?
The human mind does not particularly enjoy unanswered questions. In fact, it often treats uncertainty as a problem that must be solved immediately. The result is understandable. We start searching. We search online. We search our memories. We replay conversations. We monitor symptoms. We look for patterns. We ask for reassurance. We seek one more opinion, one more article, one more clue that might finally help everything make sense.
If you have ever gone down an internet rabbit hole looking for answers, you know how quickly this can escalate. One minute you’re searching for symptoms. Twenty minutes later you’re reading a discussion forum from 2014 written by someone named “MountainGoat72,” who may or may not have any qualifications beyond owning a keyboard and an internet connection. Yet somehow your brain treats this as valuable research.
None of these things are inherently wrong. Sometimes they are wise and necessary. Seeking appropriate medical care, asking questions, and gathering information can be important parts of moving forward.
But there comes a point where searching begins to consume us. The unanswered question moves from being part of life to becoming the center of life.
I have noticed this temptation in myself. Not because I am irrational. Not because I am weak. Simply because I am human. When something feels uncertain, my mind naturally wants to close the gap between question and answer. Yours probably does too. The challenge is that life does not always operate on our preferred timeline. Some answers arrive quickly. Others take months. Some never arrive in the form we hoped for.
One thing I have discovered is that uncertainty has a way of exposing our hidden assumptions. We assume that answers will bring peace. We assume that understanding will eliminate fear. We assume that if we can just figure out what is happening, everything else will fall into place.
Yet many people eventually receive answers and discover that certainty is not the same thing as peace. Sometimes answers help tremendously. Sometimes they simply lead to new questions.
Scripture is filled with people who lived through seasons of uncertainty. Abraham received promises but not timelines. David was anointed king long before he became king. Job endured suffering without receiving a complete explanation. The Psalms are full of questions that seem to linger in the air. God rarely appears to be in the same hurry that we are.
Perhaps that is one reason these words from Proverbs remain so familiar:
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5, ESV)
As Christians, we do not face uncertainty empty-handed. We look to the cross, where God’s love for us was demonstrated most clearly. Long before we had answers to our questions, Christ had already answered our deepest need through His death and resurrection. While many questions remain unresolved, His grace toward us does not.
I have often read that verse as an encouragement to trust God when I lack understanding. Recently, I have begun reading it another way. Perhaps it is also permission to admit that I do lack understanding.
There is humility in saying, “I don’t know.” There is humility in acknowledging that some questions remain unanswered. There is humility in recognizing that certainty is not something we can always create through effort.
That does not mean we stop seeking help. It does not mean we stop pursuing treatment. It does not mean we stop asking questions. It simply means we stop demanding that uncertainty leave before we are willing to live.
One of the most comforting passages for me recently has been Psalm 62:5:
“For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him.” (ESV)
Notice that the psalmist does not place his hope in having answers. He places his hope in God. There is a difference.
Answers are valuable. Understanding is valuable. But there are seasons when neither arrives immediately. In those moments, we are invited to discover whether hope can survive without certainty.
That is not easy. In fact, it may be one of the most difficult spiritual tasks we encounter. Yet it is also one of the most common.
Many people reading this are carrying unanswered questions right now. Questions about health. Questions about relationships. Questions about faith. Questions about the future. Questions that have lingered longer than you expected.
If that is you, perhaps the invitation today is not to solve the uncertainty. Perhaps the invitation is simply to acknowledge it. To notice it. To name it. To stop pretending you have answers you do not have. To stop fighting reality long enough to admit where you are.
To recognize that “I don’t know” is not a failure. Sometimes it is simply the truth.
And truth, even uncomfortable truth, is often a better place to begin than false certainty.
This series is not about finding easy answers. It is about learning how to live during the seasons when answers are slow to arrive. Because whether the uncertainty lasts weeks, months, or longer, life continues to unfold. The people we love are still here. The work we have been given still matters. God remains present even when explanations are absent.
And while we wait, another question emerges: What happens when our search for certainty begins to take over our lives?
That is where we will turn next.
If you or someone you know would benefit from Christ-centered mental health counseling, refer to or contact us today.
Lutheran Family Service walks with those experiencing difficult times through mental health counseling, marriage counseling, crisis pregnancy counseling, and adoption services.
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