But is that really the case? Does mature and honest apprehension of God, self, and the world lead only to unending questions? Can I never know anything for sure? Do the divergent opinions of world religions and disparate interpretive schemes of Christian faith drive only to skepticism? Has God left us with troubles, questions, and uncertainties and devoid of cogent and confident answers?

For many, certainty has gone the way of fairy tales. Like Robin Hood and Cinderella, certainty once intrigued us; it drew us into its wonder. It compelled, enraptured, and even produced a deep sense of peace. But now we know better. We know that we cannot really know. We have put away such childish things. Confidence has shot off like an arrow into the darkness; it has gone the way of glass slippers.

Not only has confidence departed, many would have us believe that claims to personal confidence about ultimate reality represent ill-informed (and embarrassing) carry-over from a prior age, when many of our predecessors believed that we could know certain truths certainly about God, self, the world and even the future.

Things have changed. We now know better. Sophistication requires ambiguity. Those of us who still long for confidence or, in fact, possess it, are roundly (confidently!) rebuked by talking heads such as Rob Bell, Peter Rollins, and Peter Enns. Certainty, we are told, is arrogant, naïve, and even psychologically damaging. It exposes weakness, dishonesty, and fear; it counters faith!

The only certainty, in fact, is uncertainty. Matters of faith, morality, and destiny simply cast us into the cloudy soup of ambiguity. The sooner we acknowledge this ineradicable cognitive haze, the healthier we will be. And as Peter Rollins contends, the closer we are to appreciating the good news.1

But is that really the case? Does mature and honest apprehension of God, self, and the world lead only to unending questions? Can I never know anything for sure? Do the divergent opinions of world religions and disparate interpretive schemes of Christian faith drive only to skepticism? Has God left us with troubles, questions, and uncertainties and devoid of cogent and confident answers?

To all these questions, I reply, I think not. Or, better, I know not. God himself tells us otherwise. He has done so explicitly. Definitely. Decidedly.

In the next several Sine Qua Non articles, I wish to probe the question of certainty. To do so, we will draw from my booklet, entitled, How Can I Know For Sure? (Philadelphia: Westminster Theological Seminary Press/Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2014).2

We begin with some nagging questions and then consider common proposals of philosophy and the religions of the world. In ensuing articles, we will consider what God himself says about confidence.

Ultimate Questions

Life presses us with questions. It forces us to decision. Each moment. Every day. All of our lives.

What time should I get up in the morning? Which pair of socks best matches these pants? Yogurt or oatmeal or yogurt and oatmeal? Now, that’s a tough one. Oh, and should I leave the kitchen window open when I go to work? Though relatively uncomplicated, even these decisions produce palpable pain for some.

Other decisions up the ante. How can I fit exercise into my schedule? Should I drive or fly to Montreal? Android or I-Phone? Is this stock a good investment?

Again, difficult as they may be, these questions alight gently compared to matters of more consequence. What school should I attend? Which career should I pursue? Whom should I marry? How will I really know? Will I make the best decision? What if I don’t? Will I suffer early onset Alzheimer’s like my father? Will there be a cure in time for me? Will this Diet Coke give me cancer?

Now the pressure is on. With their gravity, these decisions at times drop on us like lead weights. They bruise us, brutalize us, and break us, even paralyzing us with fear. One life to live; so many questions and so much pressure.

If only it would stop there.

In the deeper recesses of our souls, we face lurking questions, whose answers matter in ways impossible to express. Yet their enormity swells in our souls and we know that we don’t have the built-in competencies to deliver a final answer. Certainly not with any confidence.

Even some remote questions thump our consciences. Is euthanasia legitimate mercy killing or does it actually kill the spirit of mercy? What should I do for the starving children in Darfur? Does it matter if I don’t really care?

Other questions strike chords of personal vulnerability. Will I face God one day? Does he care that I don’t care enough about the children in Darfur? Will he care that I had an abortion? Do the Ten Commandments command me? What about life after death? Or really, what about my life after death?

Ultimate questions with ultimate stakes. Some questions really matter and we really know it. Their burning prods press and unnerve us. Indecision over their relentless interrogation is itself a decision and merely perpetuates the pain, and despite our attempts to cool them off, these questions ruthlessly sting our hearts.

Is there any release valve for the pressure? Is there a way to know, to own, and to rest in real answers with genuine peace, confidence, and contentment? Can I know that I am ready to meet my Maker? Can I really know anything for sure?

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