Stop Waiting for Certainty
Why clarity often comes after you start moving
Most people aren’t stuck because they’re careless.
They’re stuck because they’re trying to be careful.
They want clarity before they act.
Certainty before they move.
Confidence before they commit.
And it feels wise.
But it’s often the very thing keeping them from moving forward.
There’s a quiet kind of paralysis that shows up in the lives of thoughtful Christians.
It doesn’t look like rebellion.
It looks like responsibility.
You’re trying to make a meaningful decision — starting something new, changing direction, or finally acting on something that’s been on your mind for years — and underneath it all is a question you may not even say out loud:
What if I get this wrong?
So you do what you’ve been taught to do. You pray. You think. You seek counsel.
And then you wait.
You wait for clarity. You wait for certainty. You wait until you finally know.
And sometimes that moment never comes.
Months pass. Sometimes years. And in the meantime, very little actually happens.
Life starts to feel like it’s on hold — even while everything on the outside looks fine.
One of the hidden assumptions behind this paralysis is the belief that faithful action requires certainty.
But in many situations, that assumption simply isn’t true.
A Lesson I Learned While Writing a Book
For years, I talked about writing a book.
By day, I’m a pediatric cardiologist, and my work centers on helping physicians make high-stakes decisions under uncertainty. Over time, I began to notice something: many of the same decision-making mistakes that show up in medicine also show up in the lives of Christians — except that in spiritual contexts, they’re often wrapped in spiritual language.
I wanted to write about that.
But the project felt overwhelming. An entire book seemed like far too large a commitment — especially while working full-time and raising four kids.
So I stayed in the waiting phase. I told myself I needed more clarity — about the structure, the audience, the timing.
If I’m honest, part of me was afraid it wouldn’t be very good.
Eventually, I reframed the decision.
Instead of asking whether I should write a book, I asked a simpler question:
What if I just wrote one chapter and saw how it went?
That felt manageable. So I did.
To my surprise, I loved it. The process itself was energizing, and the chapter turned out far better than anything I could have planned from a distance.
So I wrote another. Then another.
Within four months, I had a full draft.
And I learned something I couldn’t have learned any other way: each step made the next one easier. Each chapter revealed insight I couldn’t have discovered in advance.
What began as a small experiment gradually took shape in ways I never could have mapped out at the beginning.
The book hasn’t been published yet — publishing is its own process with its own uncertainties. But the larger lesson remains:
The path didn’t become clear before I started walking.
It became clear because I started walking.
And I’ve since seen this same pattern play out everywhere. People test a small idea, try a new direction for a season, or take a small step they’ve been avoiding for years.
The step is small.
But the learning is enormous.
The Expectation of Certainty
Many Christians assume they need certainty before they can act faithfully.
So they approach decisions as if the faithful path must follow a linear sequence:
Deliberate carefully → Reach clarity → Act with confidence
Know before you go.
But much of life doesn’t work that way.
For many decisions, clarity doesn’t appear before we act.
Clarity appears through action.
Experience reveals things reflection alone cannot.
Sometimes, the most faithful next step is not commitment.
It’s exploration.
Not All Decisions Behave the Same Way
One of the most helpful ways to understand this is to recognize that decisions have structure.
Two questions matter especially:
How high are the stakes?
How reversible is the decision?
Some decisions are one-way doors. Once you step through them, returning is difficult or impossible.
Others are two-way doors. You can step forward, learn something, and step back if needed.
When you combine stakes and reversibility, you get four kinds of decisions.
Most people intuitively understand three of these.
But the quadrant that often changes everything is this one:
High stakes, but reversible.
This is where many meaningful decisions actually live.
Where Many Big Decisions Actually Live
Starting a business, exploring a new direction, or writing publicly all feel high-stakes — but the early steps are often reversible.
Testing an idea. Trying something small. Taking a step for a season.
In other words, many decisions that feel like one-way doors are actually made up of smaller two-way doors.
When we fail to see that structure, we assume we must solve the entire decision before moving forward.
And that expectation creates paralysis.
Some decisions really are one-way doors — covenant commitments, major responsibilities affecting others — and those deserve careful, unhurried deliberation.
But most of the decisions that keep people stuck are not that kind.
They’re exploratory by nature — steps taken to learn.
And in those situations, waiting for certainty can actually prevent the very learning that would produce clarity.
A Question That Changes Everything
When people feel stuck, it often isn’t because they lack intelligence or discipline.
It’s because they’re trying to solve a kind of decision that doesn’t yield to thinking alone.
Instead of asking:
How can I know the right answer before I act?
Ask this instead:
What is the smallest reversible step I could take that would help me learn?
Instead of demanding certainty, you begin pursuing clarity.
Instead of waiting indefinitely, you begin moving thoughtfully.
Instead of solving the whole decision at once, you take the next step that reveals more of the path.
The Goal Is Faithfulness, Not Certainty
Christians are not called to eliminate uncertainty before acting.
We are called to act faithfully within it.
Faithfulness means obeying what Scripture makes clear, weighing wisdom carefully, seeking counsel, acknowledging real risks — and moving forward when clarity is sufficient.
Some decisions require patience.
Others require courage.
And sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is simply take a step that allows you to learn.
Not recklessly.
Not impulsively.
But faithfully.
So if you’ve been circling a decision for weeks or months — if you keep praying for clarity but nothing seems to shift —
you may not be waiting on God to reveal the whole path.
You may simply be waiting to take the first step.
Try asking:
What is the smallest reversible step I could take that would help me learn?
You don’t need the entire path.
You just need enough light for the next step.
If this resonated with you — you’re not alone.
I write regularly about decision-making, faith, and the hidden patterns that quietly keep thoughtful Christians stuck.
If you’re trying to move forward with more clarity and less anxiety, you can subscribe to Choosing Well here.
Josh, this is excellent and resonates deeply with me. I've certainly let the need for certainty paralyze me at times in my life. Even certainty in my faith, which doesn't even make sense because faith, by definition, includes doubt. Interestingly, even Jesus doesn't call us to certainty, He calls us to faith. He says your "faith" has made you well, not your "certainty." He never said "blessed are those who have no questions." Maybe it's because if something is certain, then faith is no longer required and therefore no need for trust. Uncertainty creates the space where trust can actually exist. So, yeah, moving toward clarity in decision making is good and wise. We should do that, while embracing the realities of faith, doubt and ultimate trust in the One guiding us. I love your thoughts and your wisdom on this!
This resonated so much and is so timely for me personally. I am writing a book and I am so uncomfortable with social media -- really any attention. But, then I read how publishers want you to have some kind of online presence. Instagram and those sort of social media avenues felt way to intimidating. I learned about Substack and that felt High Stakes to me, but in actuality is probably Low Stakes. It became my toe in the pool which has become a fun exploration. Loved this and will revisit it often! Thank you!