On July 15th, I heard words I never wanted to hear: “We’re letting you go.”
In an instant, everything felt like it stopped—and at the same time, everything came rushing in.
Questions flooded my mind faster than I could sort them. How could I have prevented this? What am I going to do next? How will I provide for my family? Where is God in this moment? What’s gonna happen to the relationships that we have had with people here for the last two decades? Am I not fit for pastoral work? Some questions were practical, some emotional, and some deeply spiritual. A few of them have since been answered. Many have not.
And that’s the part I’ve wrestled with the most.
We tend to believe that a living and true faith leads to absolute clarity in all of life’s struggles, that trust in God should eventually resolve all uncertainty. But real life rarely works that way. Sometimes the answers come slowly. Sometimes they don’t come at all—at least not in the ways we want, or on the timeline we prefer. So, what do we do when the questions linger? What is the faith-filled response when clarity never arrives?
Scripture gives us permission to ask honest questions. David, a man after God’s own heart, was no stranger to confusion or suffering. In Psalm 13, he cries out, “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” David doesn’t sanitize his pain or pretend he understands what God is doing. He asks the question we so often whisper under our breath: How long?
There is comfort in knowing that God included these words in Scripture. Our questions do not disqualify us from faith; they often reveal it. David brings his confusion directly to the Lord because he believes God is there—and that He listens.
At the same time, David models something else for us. While he asks how long in Psalm 13, he also declares trust in Psalm 31: “But I trust in you, O LORD; I say, ‘You are my God.’ My times are in your hand.” That’s not the language of someone who has all the answers. It is the language of someone who knows who holds the answers—even if they never receive them.
That tension has become deeply personal for me. I don’t know what tomorrow may bring. I don’t know how or even if every loose end will be tied up, or what this next chapter will look like. Only the Lord knows. And as difficult as that is to accept, I am slowly learning that this is not a flaw in the story—it is part of God’s design.
Faith was never meant to be built on certainty about the future. It was meant to be built on confidence in the revealed and experienced character of God.
So often, when answers are missing, the temptation is to fill in the gaps ourselves—to assume the worst, to replay our failures, or to believe that unanswered questions mean God is absent. But Scripture points us in a different direction. The Psalms consistently show us that when God feels silent, He is still sovereign. When circumstances feel unstable, He is still trustworthy. When the future feels unknown, our lives are still held securely in His omniscient hands.
And this is where the gospel speaks most clearly to us.
The greatest hope we have is not that every question in this life will be answered, but that our future is secure because of what Christ has already done. Jesus entered a broken world, took on suffering He did not deserve, and conquered sin and death through His resurrection. Because of Him, this world—with all its confusion, loss, and unanswered questions—is not our forever home. Can I get an Amen!?
The apostle Paul reminds us that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed to us. One day, every question will find its answer in the presence of God Himself. Until then, we live by faith, not by sight.
That reality doesn’t make the questions disappear—but it does reframe them. We are free to bring our doubts, fears, and uncertainties to the Lord, trusting that He is both near and good. We are invited to rest in the truth that our lives are not random or out of control, even when they feel that way.
David’s son would later write in Proverbs 3:5-6 – Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understandings. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight. Solomon had his own, at times very difficult journeys, but we can see how he was influenced by his very flawed earthly father David, in such a way that he was able to trust his Heavenly Father during the trying seasons in his life. May we as parents leave a legacy for our own children that drives them to submit and trust their lives in the hands of a loving Father.
Oswald Chambers said this about prayer: “We impoverish God in our minds when we say there must be answers to our prayers on the material plane; the biggest answers to our prayers are in the realm of the unseen.” We, as spiritually mature believers, need to remember who holds the heavens in His hands. We need to remember that this is not our home. We are but sojourners here.
And as we learn to trust God with our unanswered questions and prayers, we also have an opportunity to share hope with others. In a world desperate for certainty, we get to point people not to perfect explanations, but to a faithful Savior. We bear witness to a God who walks with us through suffering and promises an eternal home where pain, confusion, and loss will one day be no more.
If you’re carrying questions today—about your past, your future, your circumstances, or where God is in the middle of it all—know that you are not alone. The Lord is not threatened by your questions. He invites you to bring them to Him through prayer with thanksgiving. And even when the answers don’t come, He remains worthy of our trust.
Our times are in His hands. And that is enough.