Embracing the “Not Knowing.”

Ten years ago this month, my world changed forever. I was 23 and boarding a plane headed halfway around the world to Hanoi, Vietnam. I knew little about Vietnam. I knew Americans had fought there in the 1960’s and 70’s. I had seen the film “Good Morning Vietnam” and loved it. I had names of Americans I would team up with, but no reliable contact information. I had booked a reservation at the Phuc Loi Hotel (at the time uncertain of the pronunciation) to serve as temporary housing, but knew I would need to find a house to rent. I knew that Vietnamese was a tonal language and I was tonally challenged. I knew that I would be working with international youth, but did not know the organizational structure or leadership of the organization I was sent to help. I did know that I was up for the challenge, a part of me wanted to escape a painful job loss, but mostly I knew I needed to fly far away with the intention of finding my way back home.

I packed my bags – 1 giant duffle, 1 large backpack, 1 smaller backpack, and a guitar and I headed off on an adventure. I flew from Indy to Chicago. I was then supposed to fly to Hong Kong to catch a flight directly to Hanoi and meet the Americans at the airport. I was delayed out of Chicago, and thus missed my flight from Hong Kong to Hanoi. This set the tone for the next ten months – challenges that called for me to keep my cool, adapt, cope, and adjust. Any assumptions or predictions that I once had were lost and a new world of “not knowing” became the norm.

To encounter “not knowing” can be terrifying, and out of this fear we may try anything to avoid it. My flight delay meant an unexpected overnight in Hong Kong. Terror paralyzed me. I tried to play confident, but instead, I got my bags, checked into the airport hotel, and sat in a daze. Here I was in one of the greatest cities in the world and I was dumbfounded in a room. By the next morning, I realized I could not allow my “not knowing” to stop me. I boarded a plane to Ho Chi Minh City, collected my heavy bags, sat with all I had for a couple of hours, rechecked my bags, and then flew to what would become my home away from home.


Riding down my street.

 For the next several months, I learned to embrace the “not knowing” and to become familiar navigating the space of uncertainty. I spent hours sitting on my roof top balcony reading the saints, mystics, and desert fathers. I resonated with their humility towards God – like them, the more I sought to know and understand an infinite Creator, the more acutely aware I became of my inability to grasp God. It seemed the more I came to know only led to further realizations of even more I could not fathom. Claims and definitions I had made regarding God and religion appeared to be more a reflection of my desires. The more comfortable I became with the “not knowing”, the more I came to appreciate the transcendent and mysterious nature of God. I often uttered, “I know, but I do not know.” By quieting the assumptions and letting go of the predictions in my mind, I found peace. My soul spoke a language I cannot begin to describe with words. My soul knew that God was God and that was enough. My soul found its way home.

Painful Conclusions.

I tried to be a savior, but it has only left me in a state of disbelief, sadness, and anger. I thought I was being helpful – I located resources, offered my services, sacrificed time and emotion only to have said help rejected. Not only was it rejected, but I was seen as a hostile threat not to be trusted. I was threatened, both literally by the family and internally through my own fear of what could happen to me, but mostly by my fears of what will happen to the voiceless children involved. I felt, and still feel powerless. I am watching a train wreck of lifelong consequences and I can do nothing to stop it. My kindness misinterpreted. My good intentions twisted into malice. I reached a painful conclusion today – some people refuse help. Unfortunately, when these people are parents, children are impacted.



And then I think of my own life and how I have rejected the helping hands of saviors and the Savior. I think of how I interpreted love as something to be feared – something painful to avoid. A part of me knew that I was only hurting myself, and yet fears of being vulnerable -- the fear of being exposed easily won the battle. I sabotaged hope and healing and instead chose to remain hidden, or at least deceive myself with the illusion of invisibility. Grace remained patient. Eventually I found the courage to face my truth. Eventually I came to know that being seen, being known was nothing to fear.

There is a part of me that would like to harden my heart. To allow anger to manifest and shout out, “There are some who cannot be redeemed!” But I cannot go there. I cannot believe that there are some beyond hope – that there are people for whom healing is not possible. The pragmatist in me votes for the death penalty. After all, why waste resources on the despicable. Why hope only to have it squashed time and time again. And there are those who will spend their entire lives avoiding hope and healing, for they must choose, out of their own volition, to come out of their darkness.

To the family I tried to help, I must let you go. I cannot force you to change. I cannot make you protect your children or help them feel safe. I can choose to love you, and that I will continue to do. While you try and hide your pain, I can still see it. I see your fear, your sense of helplessness, your angry wall of protection. I wish I could help you find truth – that it is possible to hope and find healing. I will continue to mourn for each of you. I will continue to hold hope for you that someday you may find peace – someday you will know that you can stop hiding.

In the meantime, I hold onto this hope with all my might for without it we have nothing. John, Paul, George, and Ringo, I hope you are right that all we need is love.