The Secret to Facing the Unknown With Confidence

 

Welcome to The Overflow!  I’m glad you’re here. If you’re new, I hope you’ll linger a while. Enjoy a few tales from the trenches and be buoyed by God’s Word. For more encouragement meet me on Facebook  or read my devotions at  Proverbs 31.   Thanks for spending time with me!

I couldn’t see the tears streaming down her cheeks, but I could hear the muffled cries seeping beneath her bedroom door.

Perplexed, I stepped into my daughter’s room and tiptoed toward her bed.

“Hannah, what’s wrong?” I whispered as I climbed the ladder to the top bunk where my nine-year-old lay, her flushed cheeks illuminated in a shaft of pale moonlight.

“I can’t go to school tomorrow,  Mom.”

I reached for my girl’s hand and gave it a tender squeeze, my mind a swirl of words and prayers. 

Summer vacation had come and gone, and when the dark gave way to dawn, we would welcome the arrival of a new school year.

 “Fourth grade is gonna be great,” I said with muffled enthusiasm.

Fourth grade was a “moving up” year in our small town school system. It was the year that students traded old familiarities of their little neighborhood elementary schools for new possibilities at the “big” intermediate school.

But this middle child of five was resistant to change so moving up felt more like a worry than a win. 

Knowing Hannah’s discomfort, we’d been tenacious about preparing her for the transition.

We’d done everything we could to build her confidence as the first day of fourth grade neared.

We’d played on the playground of her new school and had picnics on the bright blue benches planted beside the slide. We’d walked through the hallways and explored the “fourth grade wing.” We’d set foot in her classroom and connected with her teacher. We’d found her locker, organized her desk and peeked in the library.

We’d read and re-read the class list with anticipation and prayer. We’d pointed out the names of old friends she was eager to see, and we’d talked about the new friends that were just waiting to be found.

But as my daughter lay in the dark in the last few hours of summer vacation, her anticipation gave way to trepidation.

“I can’t go to school tomorrow,” she repeated with a wobbly whimper.

“Of course you can,” I said gently. “You’re gonna have a great day!” 

“No,” Hannah persisted in a raspy whisper. “I can’t go, because I don’t know where the bathroom is…”

I refused to let the giggle rising in my throat escape through my lips. Instead, I tried to douse my daughter’s fear.  “I think the bathroom is just down the hallway and around the corner from your locker,” I said.

“But you didn’t show me where it was,” Hannah replied.

“Honey, you’ll see it when you get there tomorrow, “ I assured her. “If I remember right, it’s only about three steps from the drinking fountain.” 

 “But what if I can’t find it?” my nervous one asked.

“Then your teacher will show you where it is,” I murmured gently. 

Hannah’s anxiety was screeching louder than her reason, and my heart was aching for her.

“But what if she’s busy when I need her help?”

“I’m sure you’ll have a friend who can show you where to go,” I answered as I stroked her hair and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

I finally climbed onto the top bunk beside my girl and lay my head on her pillow damp with tears.

I held her in my arms but couldn’t calm her with my words.

As the night waned on,  I changed my strategy. Instead of focusing on what Hannah didn’t know, I began to remind her of all she did.

“Okay, so you don’t know where the bathroom is yet,” I conceded. “But you do know that your locker is number 14 and that your desk is the one closest to the pencil sharpener.” 

I paused and let my words dangle above her sniffles. 

“And you do know that your teacher has a great smile and she keeps chocolate kisses in the top drawer of her desk and she really loves Mickey Mouse.”

Hannah exhaled a shaky sigh and wiped her tears.

“And you do know that your big sister promised to meet you at the bumpy blue slide at recess tomorrow and that I’ve packed you a snack for the bus ride home in your backpack.  You know that the library is filled with some of your favorite books and the swings on the playground soar super high if you pump them.”

My daughter nodded her head in the dark.

“You may not know everything about fourth grade,” I whispered. “But you do know something…“

Hannah snuggled her head next to mine and closed her eyes. “You’re right, Mom,” she said in a sleepy slur.

In time, her apprehensions were swallowed by soft snores.

I lay beside her for a few more moments, praying over the day to come and declaring what I knew to be true.

“God, I know your plans for my daughter are good.

God I know you will go with her as she walks into fourth grade.

God I know you love her more than I do…”

I haven’t sent a child to fourth grade in a while, but I’ve had countless conversations with God that closely mirror the words I spoke in that top bunk on a dark August night years ago.

God, I don’t know what you’re doing right now, but I do know I can trust you to be working all things for good.

God, I don’t know how you’re going to keep your promise but I do know your word is reliable and true.

God, I don’t know how to do this on my own, but I do know you are with me; I’m not alone.

These conversations aren’t mere words to placate my angst or calm my doubts.  They are a discipline of faith I’ve learned from a man after God’s own heart.

Not unlike you and me, King David often found himself facing the unknown and staring down seasons of uncertainty.

David was anointed as Israel’s king as a teenager, but it was nearly fifteen years before God placed him on the throne.

David faced a giant while his brothers mocked him. 

He lived in caves while King Saul stalked him.

He was confronted by enemies and besieged by discord, challenged by hardship and changed by grief.

He may have cried and questioned, wondered and wavered, yet, David continued to walk with confident faith and unparalleled devotion to God.

Scripture captures countless conversations that David had with God as he stood in the middle of circumstances that didn’t make sense and stared down situations heavy on struggle and light on clarity.

As I study David’s words (many of them are recorded in the Psalms) I notice that time after time,  he refuses to let the prospect of what he doesn’t know steal the promise of what he does know.

When life feels uncertain or unfair, David doesn’t sink in frustration or surrender to fear.  Instead, he shifts His focus.

In Psalm 27, we find David head to head with hardship. But instead of questioning the things He doesn’t understand, he declares the truth on which he stands.

David may not know how to escape the darkness of his enemies, but he knows the Lord is his light.

The Lord is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? (v 1)

He may not know if he’s strong enough to defeat his attackers, but he knows God is the stronghold of his life.

The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid? (v 2)

He may not know when the trouble will end, but he knows where he’ll hide in the midst of it.

For in the day of trouble he [God] will keep me safe in his dwelling; He will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent; and set me high upon a rock (v 5).

He may not know if he’ll taste victory, but he knows he’ll see God’s goodness.

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord  in the land of the living (v 13).

This is the secret to walking in confidence, dear friends–

We lift our heads in hope instead of lying down in fear.

We shift our gaze from staring at what we don’t know to declaring Whom we do.

Because we may not know everything, but we do know something-–

God is good. God is faithful. And God is with us.

And as we trust Him with our journey, we find surety for our steps.

What do you KNOW to be true of God? Share in the comments and we’ll lift a shout of faith together.