Faith Without Certainty

By Matthew Wilson

At 52, I have spent a good part of my life thinking about

God, religion, and what it means to believe something. I

once thought I would find my answers through Christianity.

For a long time, I kept trying to make that belief fit.

I've reached some conclusions since then. Traditional

religious explanations no longer persuade me the way they

once did. I don't expect to return to them simply because I

wish I had more certainty. That's a change from how I

understood myself years ago.

But rejecting explanations that don't convince me hasn't

answered every question. I still wonder whether there is a

God, whether existence has any larger purpose, and what,

if anything, happens when we die. An atheistic or

existentialist view of life often makes sense to me. I can

see how a person might live a meaningful life without

believing in anything supernatural.

I can also admit that I don't know everything.

Living with schizoaffective disorder has influenced how I

approach those questions. I've had experiences that felt

deeply significant at the time. I've also learned that a

powerful feeling isn't proof, and that my mind can

sometimes lead me toward conclusions that aren't true. I

have good reasons to be careful about certainty.

That caution doesn't mean I have to stop wondering. It

means I try to distinguish what I believe, what I hope, and

what I can actually know. Some days those things are

closer together than others.

Prayer is one example. I still pray sometimes, though not

in quite the way I used to. Sometimes prayer is simply my

way of asking for comfort and help carrying life's troubles,

even when I'm uncertain whether anyone is listening. I

don't need to pretend that I know what happens to those

words.

Music gives me another way to sit with questions I can't

settle. When I write spoken word pieces, I can explore an

idea without turning it into a declaration. I can leave room

for doubt, or finish a piece without knowing whether I've

found an answer.

I care about how I live, regardless of where I eventually

land on the question of God. I want to be kind to people,

make things that mean something to me, listen well, and

keep learning. Those aren't substitutes for answers.

They're choices I can make now.

There are still moments when I wish I could say, without

hesitation, exactly what I believe about everything. I can't.

But I no longer feel that I have to keep searching for a

traditional faith that I've already spent years questioning.

For now, this is where I am: more settled about what I don't

believe, still curious about what I cannot know, and trying

to live thoughtfully in the space between.

Creativity, Identity & Belonging

This essay is part of a collection exploring creativity, identity, mental health, uncertainty, music, and community.