WILA: Ambiguity

For a long time, now, I’ve wanted to do a “What I Like About” series involving things I don’t like, and what I’ve learned to appreciate about them. An easy gimme would be traffic. I don’t like traffic. I don’t see traffic and think “Oh goody, what fun!” But I can appreciate that traffic FORCES me to slow down and re-evaluate things, even if only what I’m listening to on the radio or what route I’m taking.

So this is my first post. We’ll see how far this puppy goes. (Also, why do we call things “puppy” sometimes? I should do another series on idioms and I would begin by explaining how I learned what a hail Mary pass was when a dude asked me out once.)

Ambiguity.

Who loves ambiguity?

Who loves not really being sure about things?

NOT THIS GIRL.

I like plans. I like goals. I like rules and parameters. I like things being clearly stated, like expectations and intentions and grading rubrics, bust my bum and call me Zha-Zha* I can get crazy excited over grading rubrics. (Get over it. I’m a nerd. Check the specs, y’all, you should have noticed by now.)

But as a former boss once pointed out, it’s not really the rules I love. I mean, I am a freedom kind of gal and I do most prefer people feel the freedom to explore and fail and try again. It’s the safety of the rules. There’s a part of me that really wants to be a pharisee because pharisees had a rubric. Check all the boxes and you know you’re okay.

But thank the Lord, I’m not a pharisee. I’m a chosen daughter. And my worth and safety are secured. And because of that, I can appreciate ambiguity in life.

When I don’t know where my rent or next meal will come from.

When loved ones are ill and struggling to survive.

When a foreign country won’t hurry the eff up and get our girl home to her family.

When a man says he loves me but acts like he doesn’t.

When people break promises or contracts or trust.

Ambiguity is UNCOMFORTABLE. And it leaves me with two options: freak out and expend a lot of energy trying to figure out all the possibilities, or

Trust.

Trust that my God is the king of the universe. Trust that I cannot see where this is all going, but I know it’s going somewhere that’s best for me. Trust that His Glory will shine and in his presence is where all my joy is. Trust that there is no end that can rob from me the truth of who i am. What i am. How I am. HIS.  A song we often sing in church has this line, “All I am is yours.” Which i love because you can think of it like “the only thing i am, the only thing that matters, is that I am yours,” or like, “everything, every single thing about me, every tiny detail, every part, it ALL belongs to you.”

Ambiguity forces me into a place where I cannot rely on myself, so I have to rely on him.

Ambiguity offers the opportunity to show the world that Jesus is satisfying and sufficient. Like when my court case was dragging ON and ON and I couldn’t trust the world and the justice system to “make it right,” so I had to trust God that pending felony or no (if you’re new to this, I didn’t do it, case was dismissed, but it was a year and a half of utter ridiculousness), my security holds because GOD DOES NOT WAVER.

Ambiguity also forces me to acknowledge how changing and temporary and broken this world is. How much we were not meant for it. It makes me long for my true home, a better county, a life that does not end.

Ambiguity makes me admit (which I am ever hesitant to do) that I don’t have all the answers. That most of the time I don’t have any. Except the one that matters: I am loved by the author of everything, the King, the Creator.

Ambiguity turns my eyes to the heavens because I don’t have somewhere else to look for help.

So I don’t love ambiguity, but those are the things I like about it.

* i dont know what that means, I’m sure it’s inappropriate, I think I heard it for the first time as a six year old watching Pretty Woman

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