“I know God is telling me to…”

Sentences that start with these words fill me with complicated thoughts and emotions. Whether I hear the words come from my own mouth or that of a friend’s, they hang in the air like the white contrails that remain in the sky long after an airplane can be seen. Once this particular phrase has made it from my head to the outside world, I start to question my knowing. If someone else has left the words to linger, curiosity and confusion compete for my attention. Questions race through my mind: How do they know? What is it like to be so certain? I wish God would tell me what to do.

As women of faith, the quest for certainty about our divine calling feels ubiquitous and unrelenting: We seek. We wait. Our frustration with not having answers brings us together to commiserate. We pray, fast and comb the Bible for clues. And still, we wonder if we are living out God’s plan for us. We become so consumed with getting clarity from God that we miss the invitation to trust.

Theologian Henri Nouwen humbly chronicles his journey of not-knowing when he describes the many stops along the road that he thought would be his “home”: teaching at Yale, serving the poor in Latin America, teaching at Harvard. He writes that God called him to these places, yet he did not feel at home until he landed in the L’Arche community of Daybreak. Does this mean Nouwen did not really hear God’s call for his life? 

What if God’s call is less about vocation and destination and more about trust? I like to imagine that Nouwen was not certain about stepping down from prestigious positions, taking up residence in new countries or leaving academia to work and live among people with learning disabilities. Still, I can almost hear him uttering the words “I know God is telling me to…” 

We can know even when we are not certain. We do not have to wait for clarity to act. In fact, God’s will for us may already be clear: trust.