Seeing God at Work in the “I Don’t Know”s

More and more it seems that piping up with an “I don’t know” or a “Can I ask about…” requires courage.

Somewhere along the way, I began to equate seeing God and recognizing the work of his hand with knowledge, wisdom, and a supply of insights at the ready.

I want answers to my sometimes unanswerable questions. I reason that the more I know about God and his character, the more equipped I will be to see him as he really is.

The problem, or rather, the wonder, is that God’s depths can’t be fully known. If the depths of our own oceans remain a mystery, why do I assume that I can explore and understand every facet of God’s nature?

An expectation of simplicity leaves me frustrated when I have no answers beyond “I don’t know.”

An expectation of mystery, complexity, and eternity reframes the “I don’t know” as an invitation to trust.

Welcoming the “I Don’t Know”s

Earlier this month, I volunteered at my daughter’s school. One of my jobs was to assist with a sophomore chemistry class.

Half the students traipsed down the hallway, following their teacher to the lab. I stayed back to oversee the remainder while they worked through a packet of worksheets.

My knowledge of chemistry, long forgotten, was not required. I simply sat in a chair at the front, checking the box of “adult presence” while the students circled up to collaborate.

As they talked, the pattern of conversation caught my ear like a melody I had once known.

I looked up from my phone to watch and listen.

They comfortably asked questions of one another. Without embarrassment or self-consciousness, they tossed out ideas and solutions. Quickly, one would retract his answer and agree that another student’s solution made more sense.

No one held back. No one crumbled when the group disagreed with the individual. No one tied their identity or worth to an appearance of knowledge or wisdom.

They confessed “I don’t know” without shame or hesitation.

Questions a Mark of Immaturity?

Maybe you remember a time like that too—a time when your peers struggled to answer the same questions as you. Group projects and study sessions brought with them a sense of comfort. Everyone shared together in the same stage of not knowing.

Adulthood shifted that landscape. My first job left me in conference rooms where jargon, acronyms, and knowledge of past events flew through the air.

No longer could I count on the fact that we were growing together at the same pace. From messages both verbal and nonverbal, I picked up on the cues. You’re valued for your knowledge and expertise, not for your eagerness to learn.

In work and in faith, I subconsciously accepted the idea that maturity looks like responding with an opinion, quote, or statistic, and questions are only tolerated if they’re few and far between.

An Honest Answer

Sitting in that high school classroom, I smiled to myself as I glanced back down at my phone. Coincidentally, or maybe very much on purpose, I had clicked on an article. The title had caught my eye: “Daddy, why does Deuteronomy 20 talk about killing the boys and girls?”

The author, a Bible scholar, had attempted to answer his daughter’s question. Intellectual answers ran through his thoughts. Academic conversations came to his mind. But when asked to provide an elementary-level answer to her question, he gave his only honest reply: “I don’t know.”

Although we’ve lost our comfort with those three words in this grown-up, responsibility-laden life, they disguise a wonderful truth about God’s nature—that the depths of his character, wisdom, and mystery are bottomless.

And that is good news because a fully understandable god wouldn’t be God at all.

So maybe it’s time to set aside my internal narrative—the one that tells me I should have all the answers. Maybe I should be more willing to interrupt the discussion to ask for clarification. Perhaps I’ll stop saying, “I’m sorry” when I confess I don’t understand.

And maybe you’ll feel a little more freedom to do the same.

May he be glorified in our “I don’t know”s and our unashamed questions as we press on to know him more.

*Featured Photo by Ana Municio on Unsplash