I am sitting with a fair amount of uncertainty at the moment. I have had all the treatment for my ME that our health service can offer. I have done my course of CBT and I don’t have any more energy than I started. I now work four days a week, with one of them working from home, and I have yet to see a significant improvement.
Life is still challenging. I still have to battle my way to the end of each week. I still long for my body to remember what energy feels like. I am not better. And I’m struggling to know how to get better. I know I need to get from A to B, but most days it feels like someone has planted a massive mountain in between. All I can see is the climb to one of the many summits.
There are questions I really want answers to. Questions I ask myself daily or others ask me. Questions like: why aren’t things getting better? What are you going to do next? How long will this last? What is God’s purpose in this?
And in the place of answers there is silence. Those spaces, where the words should be, open up like chasms within me. Turning into voids that suck away my hope. Some days I try to plug them with my own words. But the holes go too deep and my words sound uncertain and feeble. I fear that if I get too close to the edge I will trip into the depths and won’t be able to climb out again.
I like certainty. I want things to be black or white, with no grey areas. There has to be a right answer somewhere. But real life isn’t like that. Our problems and the choices we make are messy and complicated. We see the world through the lens of our own bias. We may never have enough information to know if a decision was the right one to make. We may wait years to understand why something in our lives had to happen the way it did. There isn’t always a clear answer.
And sometimes we don’t get an answer at all. Sometimes the most God gives us is the privilege of asking our questions to him. He doesn’t promise to answer them, or at least not in the way we might expect. We are not God. He is not accountable to us and does not have to justify his actions.
We all have to sit with the uncertainty of those questions that don’t seem to have answers. Why are some taken from the world so young? Why are some lives blighted by suffering? Why is one person healed and another left sick? We all have our own questions we would dearly love answered. We all have our own spaces in our hearts, where the answers should be, testing our faith and trust.
All I am left to say is I don’t know. I don’t know why things aren’t getting better. I don’t know what I do next. I don’t know how long this season will last. I don’t know what God’s purpose is in this.
But God does know. And there are some things I know about him. He is wise and all powerful. He is sovereign over every aspect of my life and who I am. And he loves me, more than I can ever fully understand.
I don’t have the answers. But I am trying to let trust and grace build a bridge over the chasm of my uncertainty. To bring me to rest in the things I know to be true.