Fasting from Certainty

Neither my husband or I are believers in five-year plans. They may have worked well for Stalin and the Soviet Union, but for us they fall flat and come apart after about a year or so, if not sooner.

I used to love certainty. I liked having my ducks in a row.

However, after five years (ironically) of various jobs, various hours, and a seminary degree to boot, I’ve become accustomed to living within a certain degree of uncertainty. Infertility did that. So did job loss and a world-wide pandemic.

I once dreamed of a five-year plan in which I would finish my physiotherapy degree, gain employment long enough to cover a 12-month maternity leave, and then utilize that maternity leave to raise a well-planned child.

Ha.

That didn’t happen.

Upon reflecting on the past five years, I realize that our infertility was the catalyst that ultimately brought me face to face with my desire for control and certainty.

I couldn’t control my fertility. I couldn’t be certain of the outcome. No matter what I did, which remedies I tried, how well we timed sexual intercourse, it just. didn’t. happen. Conception was impossible. It was the death of a previously certain dream of raising a family with my husband.

The past five years have been the epitome of uncertainty — job loss and unemployment resulted in a short-term dependence on EI (employment insurance) and we became accustomed to a significantly smaller paycheque. Meanwhile, I experienced a dead-certain call to seminary education, which was accompanied by an equally uncertain vision of my vocational calling and future employment.

One by one, the ducks fell off the path.

My life has taught me that a life lived in faith results in periods of fasting from certainty. These may be long periods of years or decades, or they may be short period of weeks or months.

Recently, I applied for a full-time physiotherapy job. I know, I know, it surprised me too. It sort of fell into my lap and just felt right. In the month since my application, I’ve had a dozen people ask me about it. When will I hear about whether I’ve been offered the job? What will my future look like in church ministry if I’m working full-time in physiotherapy?

Oh, and our lead pastor resigned, too. Talk about a mixed bag of emotions and uncertainties on all fronts.

I’m fairly certain that some pigeons and geese have joined my ducks at this point.

I can only credit my past experiences fraught with uncertainty for the steadiness that I’ve felt over the past month. I have learned (at least in part) the sure certainty of God’s faithfulness. I know deep in my heart and soul that as God calls us to obey him wherever he leads, his plan is for our very best.

I can’t tell you which curveballs life will throw at me next, but I am absolutely sure that curveballs will be thrown.

I am one hundred percent certain that I have no clue what the next year will hold for us, our church, jobs, or families. Most likely, it will be something that I haven’t even considered yet, for good or ill.

Through all of it, I am completely confident that God is fundamentally good and faithfully present in all of life’s uncertainties.

Why? Because he’s proven it to me.

Deep in my soul, there is a rock-solid, unshakeable belief in the goodness of God regardless of what our circumstances may bring. It is an anchor that grounds me.

That’s what uncertainty has taught me. My ducks, geese, and pigeons are free-styling these days, and you know, that’s okay.