I once was quite certain. I knew I was right.
My logic was flawless, at least in my sight.
I’d argue with others with passion and flair,
But sometimes my wisdom was just hot air.
To myself, I called it a “definite maybe” each time,
A phrase that could wobble but somehow be fine.
For I might be wrong, though I hoped I was not.
My guesses were strong, but they were just thought.
Then one day, I was gathering my logic all day,
And I still missed the truth God was trying to say.
With so many random dots, none formed a line.
Would God connect them with his purpose divine?
Certainty was my choice, because I would decide
When my belief was too accurate to be denied.
It’s not what I saw. It’s what I chose to believe,
When thinking I was right might actually deceive.
Sometimes, I sensed God whispering, “That’s right,”
And I had calm assurance that I had seen the light.
I wished I could have that certainty all the time,
But with my control, it wouldn’t be worth a dime.
The Pharisees thought they had everything right,
But they were blind, like wanderers in the night.
For pride in our knowing can shut Heaven’s door,
While humble hearts listen and seek to learn more.
When God is my compass, my footing is sure.
Though mysteries linger, his love will endure.
For logic tries to join all the dots that we see,
But God draws the picture for you and for me.
Now I can rest, although I don’t understand.
I can certainly know I am safe in his hands.
To trust in the Lord is the best place to be—
For certainty is knowing that he lives in me.
