Craving Certainty
Dear Sutton and Savannah,
I don’t know. I don’t know the answer to most of life’s really good questions. And an answer that I believe is right for me, may not be right for someone else. And it’s not because I think nothing is knowable. I don’t think that at all. I just believe that there are many questions (maybe most) that could have multiple good answers. I wish I had been better at saying “I don’t know” in your younger years. You probably knew that I didn’t know what I was talking about and were just kind enough not to say anything. One thing of which I am certain, I love you. I know that for sure, and everything else follows.
-Dad
Inside Out Lectionary Letters
Year A - 6th Sunday in Lent (Texts, Art, Hymns)
Passion Readings for March 29, 2026
Isaiah 50:4-9a / Psalm 31:9-16 / Philippians 2:5-11 / Matthew 26:14-27:66
Summary of Matthew 26:14-27:66
The storyline of the gospel reading accelerates toward its breaking point. Betrayal, denial, prayer, political pressure, religious judgment, and execution all unfold in rapid succession. Nearly every character fails in some way—Judas betrays, Peter denies, the religious leaders condemn, Pilate deflects, and the crowd shifts. The movement is relentless, and it crescendos at the cross.
However, Judas is not pure villain—he is conflicted, regretful, and undone by what he has set in motion. Peter is not weak—he is devoted and afraid at the same time. Pilate is not purely corrupt—he hesitates, questions, and then gives in. The religious leaders are not irrational—they are trying to protect a system that has given their world order and meaning.
No one here is purely anything.
And that may be the most unsettling truth of all.
Scripture as Mirror of the Soul
When we hear this story, we are likely caught in the same treacherous loop that is the plight of humanity. It is a thread that runs beneath every scene in this passage, and it is not betrayal or fear—but the relentless craving for certainty.
The religious system was built on it.
The political system depended on it.
The crowd demanded it.
People want to know who is right and who was wrong. And Jesus would not cooperate. He healed when he wasn’t supposed to. He forgave without permission. He spoke with authority but refused to weaponize it. He moved in spaces that did not fit the appropriate categories.
He lived in the gray. And that made him dangerous, because “gray” is not easily controlled. Gray cannot be legislated or systematized. It cannot be used to reinforce power or protect identity. It requires humility, flexibility, and trust.
So the system did what systems built on certainty always do when threatened—it removed the threat.
This is not just a story about them. It is a story about us. It is a story about me. There are parts within me that crave certainty because uncertainty feels unsafe. These parts try to regulate my inner world with rules, discipline, denial, and shame. Uncertainty creates tension and tension is uncomfortable; at times, intolerable.
However, the divine voice within does not organize life around certainty, but around grace. It creates space where the unknown is not feared but engaged. Where we can say, with honesty, “I believe this… but I could be wrong.”
That is not weakness. It is freedom.
It loosens the grip of rigid thinking and opens the door to curiosity, humility, and growth. It allows the whole self—not just the acceptable parts—to be held together.
The story is two thousand years old, but as relevant today as it has ever been. There is a fork in the pathway of the inner journey. The familiar path leads to more black and white thinking and requires the gray areas of life to be regulated, controlled or expunged. It is the path that craves certainty but is constantly triggered by that which doesn’t fit. The other path is paved with grace. It leaves certainty behind and surrenders the need to be right. It allows love to be the center that holds everything together.