by Kathleen Simley, Communications Director
While spending time in Tucson this past week, I found myself thinking about Nancy Guthrie and her family. Being in the community where she disappeared brought their situation closer to my heart. Behind the headlines is a person deeply loved and a family living with unanswered questions. I cannot know what this waiting has felt like for them, but I keep thinking about the pain of unanswered questions about those we love.
That space of “not knowing” can be so difficult to sit in.
We wait for test results, for news of someone we love, for a relationship to heal, or for a path forward to become clear. We go about our days, but underneath it all, the questions keep running. We imagine the worst, then tell ourselves to stay hopeful. We check our phones. We lose sleep. We wish there were something we could do.
Sometimes we feel lost even with people around us. We say, “I’m fine,” because explaining feels too hard—or because we don’t know how to put our uncertainty into words.
And somewhere in that waiting, our questions may turn toward God.Where are you? Do you hear me? What are you doing? Why haven’t you stepped in?
We may hesitate to admit those thoughts, as though questioning God means our faith is failing. Yet the Psalms are filled with people crying out to God in fear, frustration and grief. Their questions belong in Scripture. Ours belong in our prayers.
We don’t have to find a lesson in every painful experience. Sometimes our prayer is simply, “God, I don’t understand. Help me get through this day.” We may trust that God is near and still struggle to feel that presence.
As I think about Nancy’s family and others living with painful uncertainty, I wonder how we can help one another bear the waiting. Who around us might feel unseen? Who needs someone to look beneath “I’m fine” and stay long enough to hear the answer?
This is part of our call to accompany and embrace others: to listen, keep checking in and sit beside someone when the way forward is unclear.
We cannot always give one another answers. But we can sit together in the not knowing and trust that God can meet us there, even with all our questions.
This week, I invite you to pray for Nancy and her family and for others living with painful uncertainty. Consider, too, who in your own life might need a call or a little company.
We may not know what to say. We can still say, “I’m here.”
