I'm now trying to write with some regularity. The goal for me was at least once a month, but every time something fantastic, depressing, or in any way meaningful happens to me, I spend quite a bit of time thinking about it and almost no time writing about it. Thus, by the time I remember I have a blog, most of these events have mentally passed me by, and I end up sitting at my computer late at night trying to force myself to write about something. However, I'm determined to keep myself writing, and that being said, I think it's a good time to discuss the vast realm of uncertainty that encompasses most of my life and, I'm sure, the lives of millions of others. I have no plan for this post, so we'll see how it turns out.
Uncertainty, now that I think about it, isn't quite the correct word for what I'm trying to convey. Uncertainty is universal; it's the emotional form of what it means to be human and finite. What I'm experiencing in particular, however, is a sense of aimlessness, which often accompanies uncertainty but should never be mistaken for it. The difference is that uncertain people with an aim know exactly what they would like to happen, even if they have no assurance it will happen. Aimless people not only lack a prediction of life; they lack an immediate opinion of it.
I have a foot in this category. My greatest concern at present is a vague and undetermined future in which my situation is different than it is now. I have some ideas of how I'd like it to be different, but the idea of gaining independence and, by virtue of that independence, being forced out of my luxurious passivity in life, is somewhat frightening. In other words, I like being aimless, mainly because it's easy. In fact, I've used community college to help me extend that period of minimal planning. I've even excelled at it because it's been the one thing I've had to worry about. However, as my second and final year at PCC begins, it's becoming more and more necessary for me to come to terms with the complicated business of really living, of figuring out what I want to do for the next two, five, ten years, so I can then start figuring out how to do it.
The problem, however, is that annoying, uncomfortable, impossible command, "Do not worry about tomorrow." What on earth does that mean? It's a command for us to leave certain aspects of our lives to God, including our futures and our concern about them, because that uncertainty, even if we have an aim, is unyielding. We cannot know what will happen to us, and assuming that we have so much control over our own lives is unrealistic, even on a practical, day-to-day level. What we want may not happen. Millions of people around the globe are denied their dreams and wishes, even when those wishes are just food and shelter. Though we are blessed beyond imagining to live in a place where people choose their careers, to assume it is anything but a blessing is foolish. So what is our reaction? Where is the line between arrogance and apathy? How can we be actively living and planning for the future (especially for those with families) without also worrying?
And this is where faith and hope seem to come in. These intangible, illogical reactions to doubt and uncertainty are commandments to the followers of Christ. To people trying to figure out how to pay for college, it makes no sense to say "Do all that you can and put all your doubt, fear, worry, frustration, and everything else that you lack on God." That doesn't pay bills. However, we are obliged by the blessings we've already received to trust God. We are compelled by His very nature to trust him. We are commanded to find security in a God whose actions sometimes seem contradictory in the midst of an insecure world. We do this because it's the only way to live. We do it because if we didn't, we would have only our finite selves to rely on in a world that devours and ignores the finite. We cast our fears from the impossible to the Unseen. And in this hope, which doesn't pay for college, which doesn't secure a job, which doesn't result in a family, or a home, or food, or clothing, in that hope we move on. In that hope we realize our weakness, but we don't resign to futility.
That being a rant, it ended up a ways from where it began. To round it off, I believe aimlessness is something to be overcome. It's not easy; I remember freshman year of high school, being asked repeatedly what I wanted to do with my life. Five years and a few months later, the question isn't much easier to answer. However, one thing I would say to anyone trying to answer is this- don't be afraid to ask anything of God. One prevalent lesson in our culture is to dream big because you can do anything. You can't- not alone, at least. Everything has to fall into place, and you have to pursue it. But aimlessness doesn't help you fulfill anything; it either ends in timely recognition or lifelong regret. Once it's conquered, you have only uncertainty to face, and the Rock of Ages in your corner.
In closing, Peter Rollins, a contemporary pastor, once said that "to believe is human; to doubt divine." I respectfully believe that he is, in some aspects, mistaken. Doubt and uncertainty are our natural reactions to 1) our lack of omniscience, and 2) our recognition of our own limits. Given these circumstances, doubt is incredibly human. We don't know what's going to happen in the next thirty seconds, we know that we don't know, and it can scare us. Hope, however, is God's answer to our uncertainty. It is His gift to help us face the reality of our existence in a world much greater than ourselves. Hope is indeed divine.
P.S. I meant this post to be a bit lighter, so the title is a bit quirky for the subject matter, but I'll go ahead and keep it.
P.S.S. I understand that those who don't believe in God also have hopes and also face uncertainty every day, and they rise above it. Hope is not exclusive to the religious, but the alternative seems, at least to me, depressing.
