Living with Uncertainty Part 3

August 27, 2026

Sometimes uncertainty produces an anxiety that cannot be quieted by positive thinking or self-reassurance alone. These are the times when someone we love is facing a life crisis, when a family member is in serious trouble, or when we ourselves are confronting circumstances that threaten our security, health, or well-being. In such moments, fear is not imaginary. It rises from the undeniable fact that something precious is at risk—and that we may be powerless to control the outcome.

In the spiritual life, however, reality is not limited to what can be measured, calculated, or outwardly observed. Facts matter. Medical reports, probabilities, expert opinions, and observable circumstances all belong to the truth, and we disregard them at our peril. Yet they may not make up the whole of reality.

There is also what might be called the translogical dimension of life. The translogical is not illogical, irrational, or opposed to reason. Rather, it includes and goes beyond reason, while being still open to meanings and experiences that reason alone cannot fully explain. Love is translogical. Beauty is translogical. The sense of being called, forgiven, accompanied, or inwardly known may be translogical. These experiences cannot always be proven, but neither can they be dismissed simply because they exceed the boundaries of measurement.

When we are deeply anxious, those of us who seek a spiritual life may long for more than an intellectual belief that God is present. We may need to experience that presence directly.

Sometimes this happens inwardly. We whisper a prayer for relief, reassurance, or hope, and something seems to settle over us like a warm blanket. Nothing in the outer circumstances has changed. The diagnosis is the same. The decision remains uncertain. The person we love is still in danger. Yet something within us has shifted. We feel held rather than abandoned. Our fear loosens its grip, and a peace we could not manufacture begins to arise.

At other times, especially when we are frightened, reassurance may arrive through something outside us: a surprising coincidence, an unexpected encounter, or an occurrence so perfectly timed that it speaks directly to the soul. Some call such moments synchronicities. Others call them signs, graces, or quiet messages from God.

Whatever language we use, the experience can be unmistakably personal. It does not necessarily tell us what the outcome will be. It does not promise that suffering will be avoided. But it may communicate something equally important:

You are not alone. You are seen. You are loved. I am with you here.

Many years ago, I prayed for a sign concerning a situation over which I had absolutely no control. Lark, the children, and I were visiting friends in another state. Although I was surrounded by people I loved, anxiety about the situation at the office, welled up inside me and trembled through my body. I could neither think nor strategize my way out of it. I prayed for some assurance that I was not alone in what I was facing. Then I stepped onto our friends’ porch and sat by myself. It was late afternoon. The light had begun to soften when, seemingly out of nowhere, a large and beautiful butterfly appeared. She fluttered around me, circling gently in the stillness of the porch.

The moment I saw her, something inside me recognized her arrival as an answer. Here is my sign, I thought. Here is the reassurance I asked for when I most needed it. But then something happened that astonished me. The butterfly landed on the back of my right hand.

She remained there, slowly opening and closing her wings. I hardly dared to move. Her delicate feet rested against my skin, and her wings rose and fell as though she were breathing with me. “I am right here with you,” she seemed to say. In that moment, the anxiety drained out of me. Nothing about the situation itself had changed, yet I had changed. Peace flooded the place where fear had been. I felt as though heaven had drawn very near—not as an escape from the world, but as a presence within it.

The butterfly remained on my hand for an extraordinarily long time. Eventually, someone called me inside for dinner. I gently told my winged visitor that she would have to leave. I thanked her then, and I still thank her now. Then she lifted from my hand and flew away.

Butterflies have always carried a special significance for me. There have been other occasions when one appeared at precisely the moment, I needed comfort or had prayed for a sign. Could these encounters be explained as coincidence? Of course. The rational mind can usually find an ordinary explanation for almost anything. But perhaps the most important question is not merely, Can this event be explained? For me the deeper question is, what did this event awaken within me?

A spiritual sign need not violate the laws of nature. It may come through nature. A butterfly does not have to cease being a butterfly to become a messenger. The sacred may not always arrive with thunder, visions, or voices from heaven. Sometimes it comes on fragile wings and rests quietly upon the human hand. Such signs remind me I am to remain open to the possibility that life occasionally addresses us in a language more intimate than the rational. It reaches beyond the logic of our mind to tell us we are not alone and that all will be well. 

Spiritual Practice

When you are facing a circumstance beyond your control, consider praying for a sign of God’s presence. Do not dictate what the sign must be. Simply remain attentive.

Then notice what happens—not only around you, but within you.

Inquiry

Why might an out-of-the-ordinary experience speak so powerfully to the soul? Must something be scientifically proven to you before it can carry spiritual meaning? And have there been moments in your own life when an ordinary event became, through its timing and its effect upon you, something sacred? You may want to write a short story or a poem, create a painting or an image.

Prayer

Dear God,

She was indeed beautiful. Thank You for meeting me in my fear, for resting upon my trembling hand, and for reminding me that even in uncertainty, I am never beyond the reach of Your presence.

Amen