Trusting god In Uncertainty: When the Answers Just Won’t Come

I wore a sweatshirt yesterday that I hadn’t touched in over two years… and I almost yanked it off.

Why?

Because I was afraid of it.

I know that sounds dramatic, maybe even a little irrational—but it’s true. It was the sweatshirt I wore to the ER when my nervous system had become so wrecked that my body stopped sleeping.

In October of 2024, I went through months without real rest. Even when my body collapsed into sleep, I would wake up panicking. My entire world felt upside down, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t steady it.

I was stuck in fight or flight. Constantly sweating or shivering. Unable to sit still.  Unable to eat. Everything felt out of my control—and it was terrifying.

After another sleepless night and realizing I couldn’t even sit through my daughter’s piano recital, I hit a breaking point. I needed help. So I went to the ER.

But what unsettled me most wasn’t just the exhaustion—it was the not knowing. I like to feel at least somewhat in control. And if my body was a car, it felt like someone else had taken the wheel.

I didn’t know where I was headed. Desperate, I kept asking:

What’s happening to me?
Am I going to be okay?

And here’s the hard part… The doctors didn’t have immediate answers. They only had next steps.

I wanted relief. I wanted certainty. But instead, I was invited into something I didn’t want at all…

Trust.

Jeremiah 17:7–8 says:
“Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. They will be like a tree planted by the water… It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”

Notice what this doesn’t say.
It doesn’t say there won’t be heat.
It doesn’t say there won’t be drought.
It says we won’t be destroyed by it.

The secret isn’t avoiding hardship—it’s being rooted. Planted deeply by Living Water.
My healing didn’t happen overnight. It took months of slowly unwinding my nervous system. I sought professional help and, along the way, discovered that I have OCD. I began to understand how God designed my brain—how fixation can be both a strength and a struggle, depending on how it’s stewarded.

And in that slow, stretching process, I learned this:
Slow miracles are still miracles.
Even when my body wavers, God’s character never does.

Trusting God without answers is hard. Jesus is not always easy to understand—He is a mysterious Messiah. We won’t always be able to make sense of His ways.

But honestly? I don’t want a God I can fully explain. Because if I could wrap my mind around Him, would He really be Almighty? If His ways were limited to my understanding, would He truly be greater? No.
He has to be beyond me to be God.

Life will bring moments that feel unbearable. Seasons of heat. Years that feel like drought. And while we long for relief—for shade, for answers, for the pain to stop—we are offered something deeper:
The unchanging character of God.

Panic attacks started for me in high school. And over the years, I’ve had to learn how to pray differently. Not just for God to take the panic away—but for Him to meet me in it. To hold me steady when my chest feels like it might explode. To stay with me when my skin crawls and my thoughts spiral.

And what I’ve found is this:
Sometimes, deliverance doesn’t come immediately.
But His presence always does.
And somehow… that becomes enough.’

I’ve had to come back to this truth again and again: To want the Deliverer more than the deliverance.

Because God Himself is the gift—not just what He can do for us.

We may not always get explanations.
We may not always understand what’s happening.
But we always have Jesus.

So, as I pulled on that hoodie and looked at myself in the mirror, I noticed that I was a different woman than the broken, exhausted one I had been the last time I shakily pulled it over my head and walked into what seemed like an unknown future. Now I know this:
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Until the answers come—if they ever do— I can trust God. He is more than enough.

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​Journaling Prompt
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Write about a time when you felt out of control—physically, emotionally, or spiritually. What did you long for most in that moment: answers, relief, or God’s presence? Be honest about where you are right now. Then ask yourself: What would it look like to trust God here, even without clarity?

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Reflection Questions

1. Where in your life do you feel like things are “driving themselves” right now—outside of your control?
2. When you don’t have answers, what is your natural response—fear, striving, avoidance, or something else?
3. What would it look like for you to be “rooted” in God in this season instead of trying to escape it?
4. Have you been asking God only for deliverance, or have you invited Him into the middle of your struggle?
5. How might your perspective shift if you began to believe that slow miracles are still miracles?

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Closing Prayer

​God,

You see the places in us that feel unsettled, anxious, and out of control.
You know the moments where we are desperate for answers, relief, or just a sense of stability again.

Teach us how to trust You there.

When our minds race and our bodies feel overwhelmed, remind us that You are steady.
When we don’t understand what’s happening, help us anchor ourselves in who You are.
Give us the courage to stop striving for control and instead be rooted in Your presence.

God, meet us in the middle of it—not just at the end.
Hold us steady when everything feels uncertain.
And help us to want You more than the answers we’re asking for.
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We trust You… even here.
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Amen.