Letter 145: Uncertain Certainty
When we learn that digging in might not be best
Questioning what we’ve been taught as an absolute or suddenly seeing those closest to us in a new light is shaky, uncertain ground — the opposite of what we believe to be our home. Kristi shares today about her journey learning to trust and listen to the quiet unease in her heart, a process that didn’t often make sense or feel comfortable. In this same way, Anne Lamott offers it up perfectly, “The opposite of faith is not doubt: It is certainty.” —Molly
“God can most easily be lost by being thought found.”
—Richard Rohr
Sitting on the worn couch with a toddler in my lap, surrounded by familiar faces, I felt completely known. If I try hard enough, I can still smell the candle burning and the casseroles in the kitchen. Every Wednesday evening, we came together to eat, laugh, pray, and worship. After decades in traditional churches, I'd never experienced anything so personal, so relational, so right.
On Sundays, we forgot the pretense of dressing fancy and came as we were. I could bring a fitful child (or three), and instead of handing them to a stranger in a nursery, they were cared for by friends, invited to play outside, or soothed by another weary mother. Prayer wasn't scripted; it was spontaneous. Worship wasn't performed; all shared it. What I felt in that room was deep and powerful.
Home church was set apart. It was different and real, and I was hooked.
Slowly, some people who had been there since the beginning started to peel off. I believed, as I was told, this was normal—being different wouldn’t appeal to everyone. This was special, and if someone didn’t understand that, they were free to leave.
But instead of leaving, we dug in.
We wanted to be the ones who stayed, the ones who understood. We told ourselves that hard didn’t mean wrong, and if the ground felt shaky, maybe we were just being refined. We doubled down on our commitment, thinking it brave—noble, even. We wanted to be the steady ones in an unsteady season.
Eventually, we were invited to join the leadership. We opened our own home and shared some of the most genuine Sunday mornings of my life. Still, there was a quiet but clear hierarchy. The pastor often spoke as if he had a direct line to God. (In fact, this was something actually said to us.) What he heard, he shared as truth, and questioning him felt like questioning God. When people left, we weren’t encouraged to grieve or reach out but rather to hold the line.
We wrestled, not just with what we saw but with what it meant. These were dear friends. We shared meals, holidays, tears, life. We weren’t outsiders pointing fingers; we were insiders trying to make sense of it all. We wanted to be faithful. We wanted to belong. But we couldn’t ignore the feeling that something was off.
Following the usual script, the pastor’s wife took me to coffee to warn me that our friends weren’t who they seemed and that I shouldn’t trust them.
The turning point came when our two best friends were suddenly removed from the church. Following the usual script, the pastor’s wife took me to coffee to warn me that our friends weren’t who they seemed and that I shouldn’t trust them. Nothing felt right.
We started asking a lot of questions, which led to late-night conversations that sometimes turned into tense arguments. Every time I found the courage to speak up, my words were twisted and my thoughts spun around until I no longer trusted my own voice. The night we finally decided to walk away, I felt hollow, barely myself, unsure I'd ever find solid ground again. They told us to leave gently, quietly, and “positively,” but now I know silence was never peace; it was just another way to hide the truth.
Five years have passed, yet the echoes of the past still visit me in quiet church pews, reminding me of what was lost, but also of what I'm slowly beginning to find again.
When I look back now, I wonder how I could have ignored so many red flags. In the moment, though, you desperately want to see the good, so you push through. I can’t fault myself for trusting and trying. All I can do now is trust my instincts moving forward. The shift from being fed "truth" and doubting myself, to having the freedom to listen to my own inner voice, is one of the most profound parts of this journey.
Questioning isn't the enemy of faith; it’s an invitation into something deeper and more honest.
I’ve discovered I'm far from alone in my story. Thousands have experienced similar pain and confusion. We are left to take apart the pieces of our faith, gently sifting through the rubble and bravely seeking what will still stand true. Questioning isn't the enemy of faith; it’s an invitation into something deeper and more honest.
In quiet moments of doubt and courage, I'm learning to trust my instincts again, honoring the gentle nudges guiding me toward truth. My faith isn’t something handed to me, it’s emerging slowly, intentionally rebuilt with honesty, grace, and resilience I never knew I possessed.
Today, I hold hope close. Faith isn't lost; it’s being remade, reshaped by courage into something real, something mine. This journey, even with all its uncertainty, feels sacred.
Kristi’s 5 Favorite Things:
The coziest sweatpants: I have these in 3 colors, and the matching sweatshirt. They even stay soft after the wash.
My Duvet Cover: I hesitated to pull the trigger on this because of the price. Once I did, there was no going back. If you’re going to splurge, splurge on bedding. You won’t regret it.
New Girl: I can’t get over this show. I think all of the characters are my favorites, but Schmidt really takes the cake for me.
My Favorite Protein Powder: I have searched high and low for protein. I like this one because its whey (more bang for your buck), and the vanilla can be added into everything. Plus, it tastes great and is easy on the stomach.
The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill: This podcast helped me feel seen during a difficult time.
In gratitude,
Kristi Rice
P.S. In Letter 72, Kristi urges us to follow that curious flame smoldering deep within ourselves. What is on your mind that you could follow today?
