QUESTIONS, CHAOS & FAITH
Finding Something True in the Uncertainty
I recently attended a live performance by Joy Oladokun, and her music has left an indelible mark on me. There’s something about her raw and deeply human sound that cuts through the noise and resonates with my soul. I’ve been a fan for a while, but seeing her perform cemented her status as one of my favorite artists.
One song in particular, “Questions,” has been haunting my thoughts ever since. It’s a poignant exploration of uncertainty and the elusive nature of easy answers. Oladokun’s lyrics capture the essence of our current state of being, where nothing seems certain and life refuses to provide straightforward solutions. She sings, “Nothing is certain, everything changes. We’re spirit and bone marching to the grave. There are no answers, only questions, chaos, and faith.”
Hearing those words in a room filled with people swaying, wiping tears, and grappling with the tension of the unknown, felt like a profound experience. It resonated with the sentiments I’ve been grappling with lately: the world feels unstable, and the future is shrouded in uncertainty. The frameworks we once relied on seem to have crumbled, leaving us adrift in a sea of chaos, trying to make sense of it all.
In that moment, standing amidst strangers, all caught in the shared tension of the unknown, I felt a sense of connection and belonging that reminded me of a sacred space. It wasn’t the neatly packaged faith with easy answers that I had grown accustomed to, but the kind that embraces doubt as a sacred aspect of the journey.
This experience reminded me of a profound truth articulated by Rainer Maria Rilke in Letters to a Young Poet: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.”
This season of life and history feels marked by uncertainty. Things we once took for granted are shifting beneath our feet, and systems we once trusted are failing us. The old ways no longer fit, but the new ways haven’t fully formed yet. As Oladokun sings, we are spirit and bone marching to the grave—finite creatures trying to make sense of infinity. Perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps faith isn’t about finding answers but rather about learning to live with the questions.
Oladokun’s music, like the wisdom of mystics, doesn’t attempt to resolve the tension. Instead, it allows it to exist. It sits in the chaos and finds holiness in it. And perhaps that’s what we need most right now—a faith that can hold the questions without fear, a trust that can navigate the unknown and still sing.
The early church mystics understood this as well. Gregory of Nyssa described the spiritual journey not as arriving at certainty but as an endless unfolding into mystery. Teresa of Ávila wrote about the “interior castle,” where the soul moves deeper into God, never fully grasping but only surrendering. There’s a reason why mystics often embrace paradox rather than resolution. Real faith isn’t about having the right answers; it’s about learning to move forward without them.
That’s precisely what Oladokun’s song captures so effectively. We don’t receive certainty or a roadmap; we receive questions, chaos, and faith. And somehow, that has to be sufficient.
Recently, I’ve been trying to embrace this. I’m trying to live in the tension, to stop waiting for everything to make sense before I take action. If nothing is certain and everything is constantly changing, then perhaps faith isn’t about seeking control—it’s about learning to trust in the midst of the unknown.
And perhaps that’s where the beauty lies.
