I Don't Know What's True
But I think these things are
When I got in the car and opened Maps this Sunday around 10:15 am, Siri automatically gave me the ETA and route to church.
This might not seem like a big deal (we’re used to our phones knowing our whole lives, right?), but it was eye-opening for me.
This Siri suggestion meant that we’ve gone back to this particular church enough times for my phone to notice a pattern and reasonably conclude, “She’s probably going again.”
I don’t know if that made me feel hopeful or queasy. (I think I felt both.)
Because when your faith has been gritty for years, you’re not really sure what’s right.
When your belief system has developed crack after crack until it finally shatters, you don’t know which pieces to pick back up.
You don’t know what’s true, so you need to start at square one with things you’re pretty confident you believe.
Here’s me vulnerably sharing my process and admitting I don’t know what’s true, but I think these things are:
I don’t know what’s true, but I know black-and-white thinking probably isn’t. I think the truest truth is often in the grey.
I don’t know exactly what my purpose is, but I know that some of the greatest things I’ve done in my life happened when no one was watching. I know I’ve felt most human when I’ve sat in the trenches with another human with nothing of my own to gain. I know I can gain my life by losing it. I know the greatest love is a selfless one.
I don’t know exactly how to define beauty, but I know I’ve experienced beauty I cannot explain. I cry at sunsets, and at the ocean. I’m moved by old hymns, and by Moana, and by “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman, and (despite the viral criticism I received, I’m still holding to it) by the Eras Tour. I’ve seen people moved and united by beautiful, honest art that meets them where they’re at in just the right way. I can’t put my finger on it or put it in a box, but I know there is beauty. I think other humans do, too. The God I still believe in would display His beauty anywhere He could. He’s not scared of the “secular” or the imperfect.
I don’t know what percentage of human nature is “good” versus “bad”. But I do know I’ve seen a glorious beauty in every person I’ve ever met. No matter what we believe and how much evil we’re capable of, we don’t seem to be totally depraved. And despite our initial far-off judgments of other people, when we get close enough, we’ll always find a gorgeousness and immeasurable worth and value that seems innate.
I don’t know what husbands being “spiritual leaders” means (and why we glorify the phrase when that wording isn’t even in the Bible), but I do know that when Josiah suggested we eat our normal weekend dinner at the special “big table” so we could really talk instead of casually piling around the kitchen island and not facing each other, I felt like he loved us and led us into love. And when he told me my book sounded like it was written by Malcolm Gladwell, I felt fully supported in whatever dream I wanted to pursue.
I don’t know exactly why each young person is leaving the church, but I know a lot of us don’t want less of the Jesus we read about, but more. A lot of us just haven’t found Him in the church.
I don’t know exactly what church should look like, but I know our current structure is causing people to leave in droves (many of them, in search of Jesus).
I don’t know exactly why my faith has gotten so gritty in the past eight years, but I think I know now that you can’t be part of reshaping the church until you fully understand and have experienced what needs reshaping. And it’s difficult to love people who’ve left the system if you haven’t left yourself. And you can’t bring hope to the hopeless if you haven’t experienced hopelessness.
I don’t know who’s right, but I know I’m sick of seeing people pridefully wave their self-perceived “rightness” in outsiders’ faces as if they’ve ascended to a higher humanity and deserve the right to hate other people in the name of truth and love.
I don’t know exactly what our generation is getting right and what we’re getting wrong, but I do know we can look back at the belief systems of every generation before us and think, “they believed what?” I do know that a large number of people held up their Bibles as a justification for slavery, and I wonder what evils we’re justifying now. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, but I can stand pretty steadily on the faith that history repeats itself—and that we’re going to have our own reckoning.
I also think I know that questioning and not knowing doesn’t make you “lost.” My two-year-old isn’t just satisfied with my prediction that tipping over her water cup will make a mess. She needs to experiment and experience it for herself. I don’t believe she does this out of arrogant distrust or disobedience. She’s expressing an innate, beautiful curiosity that ultimately helps her grow and learn.
Exploring and testing and questioning and experiencing is in our nature. It’s how we grow. How we learn. How we become more human. How we discover truth.
That’s why over and over in history humans have started reformations. Once we recognize our wrong beliefs and usually their negative consequences, we’re committed to change.
We have faith, yes, but we need to deeply know what it is we’re putting our faith in.
But on the flip side, maybe we’re not fully supposed to know what’s true.
Maybe that’s part of the point.
Maybe we’re small and finite and that’s okay.
But if we really believe this—that we’re finite humans who are not God and therefore do not have every answer to the universe—we need to stop pointing fingers.
We have to approach people with curiosity instead of condemnation lest we someday come to find out that the people we labeled “lost” or “bad” or “naive” or “stupid” actually had it more figured out than we did.
If we really believe we are finite humans and therefore not God, we need to work together from a place of humility toward truth, beauty, justice, and goodness.
We need to recognize that some truths are just too big for us to know fully, and we need to stop striving, bragging, and arguing—and instead start loving.
I don’t know what’s true, but I think love is.
And beauty.
And hope, too.
And if I need to start fresh from there, I will.
What are some things you’re unsure about and some things you think are true? Let me know in the comments.🤎
Book Progress
It’s not like I’m keeping track, but tomorrow—Wednesday—is January 31. The final day of January. The deadline I set for myself to have the entire first draft of my book done.
But alas, I don’t think I’ll have it done by tomorrow. These final chapters are taking so much longer than the previous chapters. (I think the pressure of wrapping up the book well is getting to me.😅)
The good news is that although I probably won’t finish by tomorrow, I think I’ll still be able to finish the first draft by the end of this week!
So just like I promised, I'll be introducing you to the topic of my book—in NEXT Tuesday’s newsletter!!!
Prepare to meet my baby, my dream, my first book.
02/06.🤎🥺
Five Faves
Google search poems. I made up this creative practice one day when I realized my search history was hysterical and also perfectly summed up my life. It’s so fun. Share yours with me in the comments (the wackier and more embarrassing, the better!).
I think lighting a candle while I work physically helps me be more creative. Maybe it’s just me. The one I’ve been burning while I work on my dream of writing my first book is aptly named “Dream” from my friend’s small business Haven Candle Therapy. It smells delicious, and the crackling wood wick just does something in my soul.
Colorado January weather! It’s been 60 the past few days. I’m in summer-loving heaven.
This chocolate chip banana baked oatmeal recipe. Top with syrup and/or yogurt (I do both). Delicious.
I’m just gonna put this on the list again because it’s been so impactful for me: the Lectio 365 prayer app. I’m not a huge fan of any other Bible/prayer app. But this one feels raw and real and deep and beautiful.
I hope you have a great week! I cannot WAIT to share more about my book next week!! Stay tuned.🤎🤩
See you tomorrow on Instagram,
Sarah
Such a good post--thank you. I'm too tired to write out my Google search poem, but it's pretty funny.