Can I let you in on a secret?
I have no clue what I’m doing.
Tomorrow. In Malta next semester. In Africa after that. With my senior year. After I graduate. With the rest of my life.
And yes, the Lord knows the plans He has for me, plans for good and not for harm – but I don’t know those plans.
And I doubt. A lot.
I always have, and I probably always will. I try to hide it. I go to Bible study and take notes, I sing the songs even when my heart isn’t in it. God feels far away and I just feel so alone, but I smile and say oh, I was just up late last night when someone asks if I’m okay.
But I am so tired. So tired of feeling lost and alone. So tired of acting okay when I’m not. So tired of hiding it.
I have doubts, and questions. I doubt God’s goodness, and I doubt that He could really, truly love me that much, and I doubt that His plan is a good one. I question His existence and His nature and His words. And I’m done keeping that a secret.
Because some nights Doubt comes knocking, and I can’t keep leaving her out in the cold.
So I’m going to open the door and invite her in. Pull up a chair, offer her a blanket, and make a cup of tea. I’ll sit down next to her and let her talk. Let her give voice to all the thoughts that I won’t let her speak. I’ll listen and wonder and think, and I’ll cry out with her. I’ll speak of the ache in my heart and the lingering questions in my head. I’ll admit to her that no, I don’t know really, but I wish I did.
I wish I did. I wish I knew, one-hundred-and-ten-percent, one hundred percent of the time. I wish I trusted in God with a blind trust, with a faith steady and unwavering, always and always. But honestly?
I have doubts and I have questions, and I know that so many of those questions will never be answered while I am on this earth.
I am not so good with not knowing.
But I’m learning to accept it. I’m learning to ask and think, to read and study and ponder and learn all that I can, to ask the hard questions. To run into those things that confuse me instead of turning away. And learning to let it go, to reach the point where I can think about it no more and to let. it. go. To trust – simply trust – that God is good. To believe despite the doubts, to believe because of the doubts and because I have nothing else to cling to.
I’ll let Doubt in, and I’ll listen to her questions. I hope that I will never push her away, never deny her space in my heart. Because it’s only by doubting that I can begin to trust, and only by questioning that I will find answers.