Of Holding Faith and Welcoming Mystery

Apr 27 / Susan Anquist
One of the great illuminating authors of our time, John O’Donohue, writes in Anam Cara, “It is strange to be here. The mystery never leaves you alone.” These words have ruminated in my heart since reading them many years ago. I have had to wrestle with the incongruency of certainty, human experience and my faith journey.

Mystery can be both comforting and unsettling. It seems far easier to dance with certainty than with mystery.

As human beings, we live with a conflicted relationship to mystery— there is an energy around questions, but it seems the bedfellow of that energy is the discomfort of not knowing or feeling like we are sitting in fog. I would venture to say that faith shares this strangeness, disrupting our assumptions and our longing for certainty. Yet, many people like myself, did not have space to interact with mystery in my formational faith community. There was only certainty and it was made known that my faithfulness to God stemmed around not wrestling with the mysteries of faith. In my aging human experience and as a person of deep faith, I find myself wrestling with mystery and uncertainty more than ever, and I welcome it. It is perhaps the piece that helps me sit as a spiritual director with others in an authentic way. Does this ring true for you?

I would even acknowledge that I have a certain skepticism around a faith journey that does not allow space for mystery. I also hold true that there is an anchoring in this walk of faith. The author Marg Silf, in The Inner Compass offers anchoring pieces that make it possible to hold faith and mystery together. These anchoring pieces are:

I am loved
I belong
I am not alone

Take a moment. Breathe deeply. Invite the Divine One to sit with you. Center yourself in this space, acknowledging these three things, You are loved, you belong and you are not alone. Notice in your body how you are feeling as you interact and absorb your own mystery in light of this.

Does it make sitting in the fog or in the mysteries of faith an easy process? Absolutely not. I do all I can to avoid the fog of unknowing. Yet, it is in this very space that I am growing in my understanding of the Divine One’s love and interaction with me. I also am given freedom to hold the tension of all that is uncertain and full of mystery.

Mystery is woven into the human experience. Mystery is also woven into the great stories of faith. I believe that mystery is actually a seedbed for faith.

As the rain hides the stars, as the autumn mist hides the hills, as the clouds veil the blue of the sky, so the dark happenings of my lot hide the shining of thy face from me. Yet, if I may hold thy hand in the darkness, it is enough. Since I know that, though I
may stumble in my going, thou dost not fall.
Source: traditional Scottish/Irish Gaelic prayer

I feel comfort in the picture of holding onto God’s hand in the darkness. It anchors me.

Recently, while meeting with my spiritual director, I was wrestling with mystery. My spiritual director jumped in and played in the sandbox with me. We welcomed confusion, anger, and mystery around where God is amidst war, destruction, and deception, especially the deception plaguing the Western church. In that session, I experienced the Light, reflected in what I was feeling, and in teasing out some of the conflicting pieces. I am so grateful for this creative, gracious space where I can bring the complexities of life and faith. It is my deepest desire, as a spiritual director, to open space with my directees that says, “Welcome, all of it, welcome”.

There have been many times where I have wondered where the Divine One is, wondering why things turn out like they do? I have pondered about the wretched time of things. In times of grief, I have cried out to God like the Psalmist, “Why or how long, oh God. How long?” In this place of deepest need, I bring my own truth to the Light and am doing what is necessary to move toward honesty and health. This intention opens a space of offering for others as well, inviting uncertainty, mystery, confusion and pain. It is also the place where Divine connection, grace and mercy flourish.

Having just come out of the Lenten season, I was struck by how the story of Jesus was full of beauty, strangeness, and mystery. Those that encountered Jesus seemed to living in the space of unknowing. An added complexity to the story is that Jesus himself left space for mystery in the form of parables and in his strange appearing and disappearing acts. It was a wild ride for his followers, as any cloud of unknowing is. They witnessed miraculous healings, listened to radical teaching, challenging circumstances, and personal challenge. At the same time experiencing perplexing, sweet encounters with Jesus.

The space held great mystery and complexity. Just when his disciples thought they had figured it out, their pre-conceived ideas were challenged, mysteries and confusion enveloped them. Longings were met and unmet. One particular time the disciples of John the Baptist even queried if they should in fact look for another (Matthew 11). They were clearly in the mire, looking for answers. Perhaps they were at a crisis of their own faith. They seemed to be honestly holding space for the confusion and big questions.

Nearing the end of the Easter story, Jesus invited his followers to accompany Him into a strange place, a garden where the reality of the story was reaching a crescendo. Jesus takes his menagerie of followers and asks them to stay awake with him. What happens next is familiar to the human condition; they just did not. They fell asleep. I can both judge and empathize with these people. What a wild ride they were on. I can also share in the anguish of being alone when Jesus was hoping for much more from his friends. I have been the disappointed and the one who disappoints. Yet, the question is worth a pause. Jesus’ question, “Will you stay awake with me?”

What if staying awake means opening ourselves up to the tensions of these places and asking the Holy One to be present? Might the invitation be to move beyond a credo sort of Christian belief, to an authentic personal belief that opens space for the unknown and mysterious? Might the all-loving One meet us in the mire?*

(*I want to acknowledge that there are times in our lives when we
need to seek professional help to sort through the darkness. As a
spiritual director, it is important to know our own professional lane
and make referrals when necessary.)

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“Oh, let me be willing to sit in the empty dark and let the darkness enter me. Let me not pretend to know how it will be. Let me lose my plans, though it terrifies me. Let me not imagine any better time to practice than now. Let me be the bowl that sings when touched, the bowl that is content with its own stillness. If I want answers, let me sit with my longing. If I want lessons, let me find them right here. And if it is dark let me not run from the dark, but lean into it. And if it is light, let me long for the light. Let me enter it. Let me not pretend to know how it will be.”

"from A Hundred Falling Veils, used with permission of the author"
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer


Susan Anquist
Susan Anquist is a spiritual director from Abbotsford, British Columbia. She offers spiritual direction both online and in person. She completed her Master of Arts in Spiritual Formation and Spiritual Direction certification from Portland Seminary in Portland, Oregon, in 2018. She loves being outdoors, walking, observing, and breathing. She has an affinity for good literature, food, and wine. She loves traveling and eating food from around the world. She finds life in photography, writing, and meaningful conversation. Her writing can be found on Instagram at Susan.Anquist