It's difficult to live in the midst of ambiguity. Most people seem to thrive on a sense of security that comes from having a "black" or "white" view of every situation. If "this" is happening, then "that" is the response. This type of thinking leaves no room for the gray areas: not knowing, not having a solution, an answer, a reason, a cause, a scapegoat to blame. To simply be a witness, to be present to our places of not knowing, sitting as a companion to our ambiguity, is a spiritual practice that can move us beyond fear and attachment to outcomes.
My current hospice ministry places me in a healthcare setting, heavily managed by government regulations and expectations. Though we have "patient-centered/patient directed" plans of care, every intervention must be attached to an outcome, even spiritual care. If we cannot measure the success of our interventions based on outcomes, the argument goes, then how can we assess the quality of our care? How can we design and implement changes and improvements? Whoever decided to apply these standards to spiritual care had grandiose (if not co-dependent) ideas of how to control another human's behavior, decisions, relationships, and spiritual discernment process.
Many of the people I have accompanied on their spiritual journeys, as both pastor or chaplain, have been suffering from some degree of fear of the unknown. Uncertainty and attachment to outcomes exacerbates our fear of failing. Holding hands with this fear is hope--the two are inseparable colleagues. Hope is the spiritual state of non-attachment to outcomes. It is the ability to shift from fear of the unknown, to a place of curiosity and openness. Hope arises from our soul.
Czech poet Vaclav Havel described hope this way: "It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out." Moving towards this understanding of hope sets us free to seek what gives meaning to our suffering and struggles.
I have learned that it is relationships that give meaning to my struggles. As long as I stay grounded in my interconnectedness with others, I can endure all difficulties. Partnered with those who support me, listen deeply to me, offer me comfort and celebrate my happiness, I will not despair. My invisible lines of connection with God, with nature, with family and friends have liberated me from most fears, anxiety and expectations. I face nothing alone, and that's all I need to know.
