CLARITY, NOT CERTAINTY: A DIFFERENT KIND OF FREEDOM

​The week after July 4th always carries a strange kind of energy.
The fireworks are over. The grill has cooled off. The flags are still hanging on porches and in front yards, but they don’t catch your eye the way they did a few days ago. The big celebration is past, and most of us are easing back into the usual rhythm of life.
It’s the kind of moment that invites a little reflection. What exactly are we celebrating when we talk about freedom? What kind of freedom do we actually want?

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In a civic sense, we often associate freedom with rights, autonomy, the ability to speak our minds, and make our own choices. But if we’re honest, the language of freedom in our culture has become tangled up in something else. Certainty. Certainty that our views are right. Certainty that our side is righteous. Certainty that the people who disagree with us are the problem.

That kind of certainty can feel a lot like control. Control over what we believe, who we trust, and what we're willing to see. But it’s a fragile kind of control, and a dangerous kind of certainty. It doesn’t leave much room for grace, for growth, or for the God who refuses to be boxed into our categories.

There’s a quote often attributed to Abraham Lincoln that I keep coming back to. Lincoln was responding to one of his advisors who said he was grateful that God was on the side of the Union.
“Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God’s side, for God is always right.”

It may not be a word-for-word quote, but it reflects the wisdom of someone who understood that true freedom isn't found in proving our own righteousness. It’s found in aligning ourselves with something (and Someone) greater than our own opinions or allegiances. Lincoln's humility in the face of national crisis is something I wish we saw more of today.

We live in a moment that rewards sharp takes and strong stances, not humility. Sharon McMahon, in a recent conversation about politics and faith, noted how our brains are wired to crave certainty because certainty feels safe. Uncertainty, on the other hand, feels vulnerable. And no one wants to feel vulnerable.

But that craving for certainty isn’t always holy. Sometimes it just shields us from the hard, uncomfortable work of real spiritual growth. Because faith doesn’t promise control.

Jesus didn’t promise to settle every debate. He promised to walk with us through them. What he offers isn’t a fixed formula. It’s a living path, shaped by love and trust. And what a different kind of freedom that is. Not the freedom to be right, but the freedom to be led.

So here in the quieter days after July 4th, I wonder if that silence might be a holy gift. Maybe it’s an invitation to consider:

What am I clinging to in the name of certainty?

Where might God be inviting me to loosen my grip and step into trust?

What would it look like not to ask whether God is on my side, but to ask instead how I might live on God’s?

Because in the end, clarity is not the same thing as certainty.

Clarity is knowing who you are and whose you are. It’s knowing what kind of person you want to be in a world that thrives on division and noise. It’s not the safety of always being right. It’s the faith to keep walking, even when the path isn’t certain, because you know who walks with you.

That’s a different kind of freedom. And it just might be the kind we need.

Peace,
Travis Segar
Pastor for Care and Community