Rather Not Know (On Letting God Be God)

I’d rather not know the battles I’ll have to endure on this journey of mine, because I’m sure if I did I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t step foot out of this bed knowing the demons I’d have to fight on any given day. I wouldn’t move a single muscle if I knew how my enemies planned to take me out. I operate better by faith. By trusting God’s knowledge and the path He’s already laid out for me. Knowing that when I don’t know, it’ll put full control in His hands, instead of my own. 

I’d rather not know the pain I will experience, or the heartache approaching my door step, for fear that I’ll run from it. I want to live. Live hard. Live boldly. And I know that if I knew what this life would bring—what living would mean—then I wouldn’t live at all. So I’d rather not know a thing; no matter how often I beg God to tell me, or how frequently I complain about the uncertainty of the future, I would prefer to keep it that way. 

I'd rather not know the whens, hows, or whats. I'd rather just endure. Because living to experience, rather than avoid, is much more fulfilling. It's much more liberating. It provides me with the growth I long for, and stretches my faith and obedience in ways knowing never could. I'd rather not risk my spirituality and the course of my future; risk my stories and the art I use to tell them; risk losing my test, and thus, my testimony by knowing. By having all the answers all the time. By reading minds and seeing the future. I'd rather not. 

We work our whole lives in anticipation for great things to come. We do our best work when we want the best results—even when we don’t know what those results will be. We wish for change, transition, growth; and face the reality that those things come through trials. They come through disruptions and discomfort. They come through depression and outrage. Through the inciting of emotions that force us to think differently, we become different. And these things are not possible without uncertainty. Without obliviousness. Without surprise. 

I don't want to be scared out of my future, or worried out of my blessings. I want to walk blindly, into the arms of a knowing God who'll handle every task necessary as a result of his omnipotence, while I follow in agreement to a life I couldn't have ever imagined, in a world that I may have destroyed had I journeyed alone because I knew. 

So I'd rather not know. 

They say ignorance is bliss. To that I agree.