Embracing the Mystery
Being okay with not knowing what we really don't know anyway
The Knowing
I once heard a pastor share that he didn’t agree with the idea of “mystery” regarding faith or our relationship with God. He was certain God could be known and understood. It was the late 90s, and the shift in church started moving from the assurance of a Gospel declaration to realizing there was more—that following Jesus wasn’t simply about a single one-time decision followed by a series of behavior-management activities, but the knowing but not really knowing what happens when…
… bread becomes body
… wine becomes blood
… a holy God loves sinful and rebellious people.
This pastor asserted that Jesus can be known (John 17:3) and that God was not trying to hide from people but desires a relationship with us (Jeremiah 31:33-34). He resolved that following God happened with a weekly 3-point sermon that focused more on what you do than God’s character.
But what happens when life appears to throw you a curveball and can’t be solved by four simple steps?
The Fire
In 2005, my daughter died in a house fire that destroyed everything. The intense grief, loss, and trauma of the fire and Emma’s death shattered my certainty in this pastor’s opinion. I realized I rested in his opinion more than Scripture. Or maybe it wasn’t that I believed him more, but that I trusted whom I could see over someone I couldn’t. I traded the insecurity of mystery for the security of knowledge. But as I stumbled through the darkness, I realized I didn’t want the knowing-ness of this pastor’s faith; I wanted the unknowing mystery.
I needed it.
Now, to be clear, do I know God loves me and you?
Yes. (John 3:16)
Do I know Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life?
Absolutely. (John 14:6)
Do I know how it all works?
Absolutely not.
What happened to our family, what unraveled over the hours and days and weeks, even the months and now years, didn’t fit into a neat and tidy box of knowing. I couldn’t make sense of our tragedy. As I sat with my grief and considered the reality that I walked —that my perfectly healthy and adorable 5-year-old daughter died and nothing would ever be the same, none of it made sense.
People tried to, though … make sense of it. Some applied blame and flung accusations.
Others suggested there was a lesson to be learned.
Still others offered comfort in the form of “at least …”
“At least you have other children.”
“At least she didn’t die like those children being raped and murdered in that far away country.”
“At least you saved others’ lives through organ donation.”
I said that last one to myself. And while organ donation is a gift, it’s not “the” reason it all happened.
Why did fire break out in our home?
Why wasn’t Emma rescued?
I don’t know. Twenty years later, and I still don’t get it.
But don’t get me wrong —during those early days, I wanted answers, everyone did. It was a tragic shock whose reverberations reached far beyond our little community.
I filled my journal with questions and prayers and pleadings. Why Emma? Why a fire? Why the destruction and loss of our home, our family, our sense of safety and security?
God’s response came in the form of a story. Isn’t that like Him?
The Story
John 9 tells the story of a man born blind. One day, Jesus and his disciples passed this man. Curious as to why he was born that way, the disciples decided to ask him. (I mean, if you walked alongside God’s Son, wouldn’t you ask? The psalmists did, too.)
“‘Rabbi,’ his disciples asked him, ‘why was this man born blind? Was it because of his own sins or his parents’ sins?’” John 9:2
Funny, why do things that don’t appear “right” must come as a result of something “wrong”?
Buckle in, here comes some mystery: “It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,’ Jesus answered. ‘This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.’” John 9:3
What power? The man was a beggar who sat on the side of the road and longed for mercy and care. What kind of power was displayed in such helplessness?
Just wait.
“Then he (Jesus) spit on the ground, made mud with the saliva, and spread the mud over the blind man’s eyes. He told him, ‘Go wash yourself in the pool of Siloam.’ So the man went and washed and came back seeing!” John 9:7
Did you catch it? The moment that God’s power was put on display? The sorrow happened before the healing. The trial unfolded before the telling.
The man was blind and came back seeing! After years of darkness, Jesus’ power touched the blind man’s life and changed everything. People who saw him recognized him but didn’t quite believe him (John 9:9-11). His trial became his testimony (yes, I had to use that one … thank you, 1990s alliteration), but it’s true.
The people wanted to know what happened.
The Pharisees wanted to know.
His parents wanted to know.
They not only wanted to know what happened, but also who had done it —the miracle, the mystery. So, the man told them.
“He told them, “The man they call Jesus made mud and spread it over my eyes and told me, ‘Go to the pool of Siloam and wash yourself.’ So I went and washed, and now I can see!” “Where is he now?” they asked. “I don’t know,” he replied.” John 9:11-12
That wasn’t enough for the Pharisees, they wanted answers. They called for his parents, but his parents didn’t know either and told the Pharisees to ask their son again. So, they did. Though the Pharisees said they wanted to give God glory, they couldn’t believe it was Jesus.
The now-seeing man didn’t really know, either. “I don’t know whether he is a sinner,’ the man replied. ‘But I know this: I was blind, and now I can see!”’ John 9:25
Oh, the unknowing; now, they wanted to know how. The details and specifics. Walking by faith wasn’t enough for them, but for the man who was touched by Jesus? His faith became sight (John 9:35-39).
What about you? Are you more like the pastor who trusts in the certainty of knowing, or are you willing to walk by faith and embrace the mystery of it all? Are you willing to allow Jesus’ power to work in whatever you’re facing right now, even if you can’t wrap it up with a neat, tidy bow?
I don’t know why so much suffering tramples our lives. It seems like it’d be easier and cleaner if Jesus simply prevents it all from happening. But would we know Him the same way? Would we experience His power in our lives?
His power in His compassion.
His power in His Presence.
His power in His grace and mercy.
Before the fire, I was blind. I trusted in certainty and missed the mystery. Since the fire, Jesus has been slowly healing me, restoring me, sustaining me. I once was blind, but now I’m starting to see.
And one day, what I see now in part will be made whole. Oh, for that day.
“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:18
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Kim, I recall when I first met you at the Redbud Retreat in Illinois and you told me about the loss of Emma. I cried them and I weep for your loss now that she would be 25 this year. What a beautiful child!
As a pastor's wife of 49 years, I have to say that I don't agree with your former pastor who declared God can be fully known and understood. I am currently reading our fellow Redbud author Aubrey Sampson's new book "What We Find in the Dark," and I highlighted this statement: "Why are God's presence and power sometimes so evident, so palpable that even the most committed doubter couldn't deny his miracle making, yet other times to abstruse, so not there? I'll never understand. Theologians say that if I did understand, it wouldn't be God I understood. God, in being God, is mysterious, inexplicable, beyond containing with our notions. There's no explaining incomprehensibility, I guess." Yet we believe, and we ask God to help our unbelief. Thank you for sharing your heart here. The older I grow, the more accustomed I become to the great mystery of our great God.