I used to think
that certainty was faith—
a sure thing, a clean answer,
a way of knowing
without the waiting.
But the text says
clouds and thick darkness
are around Him,
which means
whatever throne He sits on
is hidden—
not because He is cruel,
but because He is close
in a way that won’t be tamed.
It says righteousness and justice
are the foundation,
not visibility.
Not control.
Not clarity.
So now I wonder
if faith is less about knowing
and more about trusting
the One
who sometimes stays behind the smoke,
but never leaves the room.
And maybe this is how
He teaches us—
not with thunder,
but with the stillness
that follows.
Not with a map,
but with a presence
that unsettles
and also holds.
Maybe certainty
was never the point.
Maybe love is.
And maybe
that’s enough
to worship in the dark.
Scribbling Theology 