At the foot of my prayer journal this morning, I read Jeremiah 29:11 and was flooded with memories: “I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” I remember when all it took was that scripture to make me feel bulletproof. When I first got out of prison—full of Jesus and ready for a new life—all I had was hope and a pocketful of scriptures. That verse was one of my anchors.
Back then, I didn’t fear uncertainty. Nothing could be worse than where I had been. The future felt wide open. God had promised good to me, and I believed Him. I sometimes wonder what happened to that younger version of me. She didn’t have nearly the theological depth I have now, but she was far more fearless.
I know one thing that changed: my “buts” got bigger. You know the buts. But what about this? But what if that happens? The buts that turn uncertainty from an adventure with Jesus into a restless night of dread. The buts that make faith feel fragile instead of fierce.
A guy I used to know once said the only thing worse than being broke is going broke. That pretty much sums up the fear of uncertainty. When you don’t have much to lose, life feels like an adventure. As Janis Joplin sang, “freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.” But once we start having things—reputation, stability, relationships—it’s not long before those things start having us. And then the adventure changes.
We say we want God’s plans, but if we’re honest, we mostly want Him to bless the plans we’ve already made. When His plans disrupt ours and uncertainty creeps in, fear shows up. Not necessarily fear of the ending. Most believers I counsel truly believe Romans 8:28. They’re not afraid of how it turns out. They’re afraid of the middle.
That in-between space where control slips through our fingers and we can’t yet see how things will be rebuilt. The waiting. The not knowing. The slow unraveling before the reordering. That’s what rattles us—especially once we feel like we finally have something to lose.
If I’m honest, I think what we hate losing most is control. Because if we really believe it’s going to be okay, then what are we so afraid of? The uncertainty of the in-between. The possibility of suffering.
But as my friend Dr. Jackie Muniz says, the goal is to suffer only once. And yet, in my effort to keep control, I manufacture extra suffering—running scenarios, bracing for impact, rehearsing losses that haven’t happened. I’m trying to protect myself, but I’m really just exhausting myself.
What if much of our suffering is found in our attempt to control what was never ours to control in the first place?
Maybe it’s time I stop acting like I’m the fourth member of the Trinity and go back to the pocketful of scriptures that got me through when I had nothing but hope and a bus ticket. The God who held me at rock bottom hasn’t suddenly retired because I’ve got a mortgage and a reputation. The plans are still His. The future is still covered.
Let’s all unclench now.
No responses yet