The Art of Not Knowing

I love a good read. But this year, I couldn’t seem to find one that stuck. Then a few months ago, someone handed me a paperback mystery. The book sat on my shelf for a few weeks until one day I picked it up on a whim.

And then I couldn’t put it down. I read the whole thing in under 36 hours, accomplishing feats like washing dishes with one hand while reading with the other and helping one of my kids with a math worksheet where, frankly, 2 + 2 didn’t need to equal 6 anyway. It was interesting, addictive, and surprisingly thoughtful. And when I reached the last page, I discovered there were fifteen more in the series. Two months later, I’ve read twelve (and counting). Judge me all you want, but I've also begun showering again.

I realize I’m late to the party; mystery novels have long been a favorite pastime. But I’ve been asking myself why. Why am I, and the millions of others, so drawn to them?

Human beings hate open loops. We don’t like unanswered questions or uncertainty. It’s a neurological, psychological, and theological reality; we crave resolution. Anxiety isn’t fear of what’s known, but of what’s unknown. Spiritually, we long for the same kind of closure: clear outcomes, solid timelines, the comfort of control. We’d love to know when redemption will be complete but even Jesus said, “No one knows the day or the hour—not even the Son, but only the Father” (Matthew 24:36).

It’s no wonder we’re drawn to stories that begin, spiral into chaos, and then end. The unknown doesn’t linger. The mystery resolves. Our brains, emotions, and souls crave that sense of closure. And this is especially true when our real lives rarely offer it.

But some of the sweetest seasons in my life have come when I’ve stopped trying to close the loop. Our lives aren’t tidy sentences with periods at the end. We’re lucky if we get a semicolon; more often, the writing just drifts off mid-thought. Faith, after all, is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). Purpose asks us to live within the mystery, not to solve it.

So how do we face uncertainty with hope, or even joy? I don’t have the answer; I'm living that question with you. But if you need a good mystery series to practice with, you know where to find me.