not knowing

I am unable to tell you what I am going to write in the next ten minutes. The extent of my foreknowledge is measured in decimals.

Which written road shall I take? I don't know. Where shall I turn next? I don't know. I know that something needs to be written and said of God's faithfulness and goodness.

I know that he knows.

I know that he is my Father and it is his responsibility to take care of me and I know that he is more-than-equal to the task.

I know that he is calling us to bless. Whatever happens, in whatever way we can, we will choose to bless. We will choose to follow.

I know that he has given us the choice, that we are truly free.

I know that we might make mistakes and that he will love us just the same.

I know there is no reason to fear, no cause to worry. I know he has lifted us up too many times in the past to let us down now.

I know he has a pierced hand that can be held, that he no longer calls me slave, that he calls me friend. I know he has a heart that holds mine.

I know he means to make us stronger, that he means to have his love and grace and goodness radiate through our faces to those around us. I know he means to make our hope more tenacious.

These are things I know. Strangely, in the midst of this there is one other thing I know:

I know that I don't know. Not yet, not yet. And this is okay.