I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about the pressure people feel to have answers—to hold opinions about everything from politics and theology to gender equality and the right to bear arms. There’s no shortage of causes to uphold or issues that need our attention, and someone is always ready to applaud those who pick a side.
But what about we who fall in the middle? What about those of us who are still marinating, still discerning what is good? More than once, I have found myself shrinking back into the corners of the room and avoiding conversation, wondering whether there is a safe place for those of us still figuring things out.
Because who wants to be the one to admit, “I don’t know”?
But truth be told, sometimes I just don’t know.
I don’t know what God thinks about certain legislation or the economy.
I don’t know the best way to parent an about-to-become teen.
I don’t know how to reconcile our country’s past with its present, to want freedom without making it a god.
I’m asking the right questions. I’m reading and paying attention. I might even have my hunches or lean in a particular direction. But that does not make me an expert, and I’m inclined to believe that in this middle space, silence and searching have their value. There’s room for “I don’t know.”
Wasn’t it all that grabbing for knowledge that got humanity in trouble in the first place?
(Hello, Adam and Eve…)
Perhaps, what we need to relearn is the art of Not Being An Expert, to take the posture of a child with a thousand questions and endless imagination and invite others to do the same. Because while answers might provide a measure of control, questions beckon us to come closer.
Saying “I don’t know” feels risky, but it also invites curiosity and grows humility. It releases the pressure of any one person holding all the answers but rather moves us to rely on our communal knowing, where our corporate minds, bodies, experiences, and emotions overlap and inform. It teaches us to trust in a God we cannot see but whose presence transcends a single moment, allowing us to exchange ideas without the fear of someone leaving the room.
Because isn’t that what we are afraid of? That we will find ourselves alone?
I’m not sure when or how not knowing took a knee to All The Answers, but it’s time to find our way back.
It’s time to allow ourselves to be people in process, to let questions do deep work in us without feeling pressure to have neat and tidy answers we can say out loud. It’s time to let ourselves be a little more human and a lot less Google. It’s time to breathe easier, knowing you are not the only one who wants to whisper, “I don’t know.”
Fellow middle-dweller and question-asker, you are not alone.
grace + peace,
Sarah
PS: Are you new here?
Hello. Welcome. I’m glad you’re here. The Shelf is where we explore faith and belonging through a weekly email (just like this one) as well as a slightly longer essay to end the month. I hope you make yourself at home.
Good Things to Pick Up
A Quote
“It’s okay not to have all the answers. God is with us here, too.” —Aundi Kolber
An Episode
This summer, I am a guest host on Girls Talking Life, where we are digging into the topic of friendship. Each episode is bite-sized (typically 10 minutes or less). In the latest episode “Barriers to Belonging,” I reflect on what gets in the way of authentic connection and what it might look like to take down those walls.
A Book
Lore Ferguson Wilbert is one writer who has wonderful track record of inviting us into our questions. She’s someone who embodies curiosity both online and in her work, and I’m looking forward to her new book A Curious Faith: The Questions God Asks, We Ask, And We Wish Someone Would Ask Us that comes out in just a couple weeks. I have not read it yet, but I’m looking forward to leaning in.
A Little Something for the Writers
My friend Kristin Vanderlip—fellow wordsmith and writing coach—has an online shop of personal and professional products to enhance your writing life. She sent me a sneak peek at one of her new woodwick candles, Comforting Words, as well as some apothecary matches, and I’m loving them. As a person whose surrounding affects her creativity, this candle is a lovely addition to my writing space.
A Friend to Follow
One thing I value in people I meet in online places is the ability to be a grounded and welcoming presence. Tasha Jun is one of those people whose words always invite me into something more, something good.
Community Question
Each week, I pose a question for reflection and conversation—just one way to be a little more human together. Feel free to leave your thoughts, ideas, and wonderings in the comments. And, of course, be kind.
Thank you for the reminder that we have permission to say we don’t know. And for the personal encouragement. 💛
It's cool to see Aundi Kolber show up in this convo. I'm ready her book, Try Softer, rn. Love when happy little coincidences happen like that. Thanks for being that nudge to pay attention. 🥰