Uncertainty and Futility

Yesterday I swept the sidewalk around our porch. It felt good to do something physical after weeks of screen time... Zoom meetings, online teaching, online grading. It felt invigorating to channel frustration and anger into the satisfying swish of the broom on the cracked sidewalk. It felt good to exact control over tiny pine needles, shoving them back into the thick, prickly carpet surrounding the pine tree.

But then a light breeze... and the rebellious pine needles came blowing back to the clean sidewalk. I sighed and swept them away yet again. This pattern continued until I reached the end of the sidewalk and decided it was time to go back inside to continue other futile tasks, tasks done well now, but needing to be done again in just a few days' time.

Uncertainty and futility.

Two of the most frustrating feelings. Things I never embrace.

Yet here I am. In months of uncertainty. The futility of making plans. I cannot avoid these feelings. I might as well befriend them. We'll be here awhile.

I like to plan out my week, to know what is to come. To plan the future. But I've always known that plans can change. In fact, I've (usually) held my plans with an open hand. At least I always thought I did.

When the world. The whole world. The whole world pauses its planning, its rushing, its self-importance. When the whole world confesses that it doesn't quite know. That is a strange feeling.

I don't know what God is thinking, why this whole thing exists. I don't know what His plans are. And it can make me angry. It can make me feel like I need to demand an explanation of God... as if I just happened upon an unattended toddler and a big mess, "Explain yourself! What were you thinking?"

But maybe that's the whole point.

God is God. I am not. He owes me no explanation. He doesn't owe anyone an explanation.

And in this quiet, in this confusion, I examine what I do know of Him. And I study His Word to know Him better. And though I may not understand the why, I can at least grow in my trust of the One who continues to remain on His throne.

I see He is the God of the universe. The Creator of all things. He is all powerful (Job 38-42). And just as he didn't owe Job an explanation, He doesn't owe me one either.

I read Psalm 9 a few days ago as I was studying the character of God. The last verse spoke powerfully to me.

"Let the nations know they are but men." -Psalm 9:20

If we are but men, then may we recognize and exalt Him as God. May we recognize when we have come to the end of ourselves. May we stop pretending to be in control. May we recognize the futility of our efforts and cry out to Him in humility.

May we think rightly about who we are. May we bow to His lordship. May we wake up to His sovereignty and stop playing at being God.

Maybe this is a Tower of Babel time. A time of disrupting the order we've made for ourselves. A time of disrupting order so we may realize that we are not God. That we would stop scrambling, hustling, and striving for control. To stop making a name for ourselves, but instead make a name for God.

And just like it does today, it seemed like a senseless tragedy of confusion, postponed plans (a tower half-built), futility in communication, a loss of control. But the door flew open to the beauty of languages, cultures, and people groups in which we can see His glory.

I don't know the silver lining yet. I don't know if there is one here on this Earth. I don't know anything. But maybe this is about His glory. To seek His light, to seek His whispers, His presence, and His fingerprints even in this situation.

Maybe our response should be as Job's, upon realizing his audacity to speak into things he did not know, and could not understand: "I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes." Job 42:6

Maybe the only thing we can do is lean in to better understand who this God is... rather than running from Him and rejecting Him. And that requires me to lay aside my pride that says "I know better." It requires me to remember that His ways are higher than mine, that His thoughts are not like my thoughts. To remember that He is God, and I am not.

"Let the nations know they are but men."

It is futile to try to understand the ways of God. And since I hate futility so much, I've decided to give up. To embrace the fact that He is God, and I am not.