Uncertainty in Irrational Times
Photo by Marita Kavelashvili on Unsplash
By RICHARD BRYANT
There is a kind of grief that isn’t about loss.
Not exactly.
It’s the grief of not knowing.
Not knowing what’s coming.
Not knowing what’s true.
Not knowing who to trust.
Not knowing how long this fog will last.
We’re living in a time when the center no longer holds.
Where truth is slippery.
Where the loudest voice often wins, not because it's right, but because it won’t stop talking.
You feel it, don’t you?
The dissonance. The disorientation.
You’re trying to make sense.
Trying to stay grounded.
But the compass keeps spinning, and the map you were handed doesn’t match the landscape anymore.
The rules are changing.
Or maybe they’re being rewritten.
Or maybe there never were rules, just the illusion of order dressed up in certainty and spreadsheets and press releases.
It’s irrational.
But not in a good way.
Not like falling in love, or laughing until your stomach hurts, or dancing like nobody’s watching.
No, this irrationality is heavier.
It’s people denying what they see.
It’s systems built on sand.
It’s voices shouting “Everything’s fine!” while the building clearly isn’t fine.
So what do you do?
When the story you were living no longer works?
Some people retreat.
Some rage.
Some numb out.
But you,
You can stay awake.
You can live in the tension.
You can learn to breathe in the fog.
You can stop pretending that certainty was ever the point.
Because faith,
Real, living, breathing, trembling, grounded faith
Was never about knowing all the answers.
It was about being brave enough to keep walking without them.
To say,
“I don’t know where this goes,
But I’m still showing up.”
To whisper,
“I feel lost, but I’m not alone.”
To remember that sometimes,
clarity isn’t a lightbulb—it’s a candle.
A flicker.
Just enough to take the next step.
And maybe that’s the whole thing.
Not escaping the uncertainty.
But learning to dance with it.
To find rhythm in the chaos.
To hold space for mystery.
Because even now,
Especially now,
There is a deeper current.
A truth underneath the noise.
And it says:
You are not crazy.
You are not alone.
And love,
The real, unshakable, irrational kind,
Is still the most powerful force in the universe.
So keep going.
Keep listening.
Keep loving.
Even here.
Even now.
Especially now.
The Rev. Richard Bryant is an elder in the North Carolina Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church. This post is republished with permission from his blog, Elevate the Discourse.