"I Don't Know"
COURTNEY BAXTER
“Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” – James 4:15
Earlier this week I was watching a YouTube series called Here's the Thing when one of the co-hosts, Angel, said this year has been "a whole lotta Inshallah." I could not agree more. “Inshallah” is an Arabic phrase primarily used by Muslims but also Arabic Christians meaning "God willing" or "if God wills." They state this before or after mentioning any plans as a reminder of who is in charge. It made me remember something my mom and grandma used to say a lot and still do when talking about the future: "God willing." I thought that meant "hopefully," but it does not; not quite. If 2020 has taught me anything, it is that we are in control of little.
In March when talk about Coronavirus (which I largely ignored) turned quickly into the shutdown, I was stunned into paying attention. I was anxious to the point of dread. What about my job? What about all these people? When would this end? Was it safe to go anywhere? Was I going to be stuck at my apartment all alone? In short, I was freaked out and pessimistic for at least the first three weeks of quarantine. I found everything to stress about, from my finances to feeling that I was not fully living up to what God wanted. I was and still am in the process of forming new thoughts about my faith. Add to this that my boyfriend Nathan was away at college finishing his degree, and his family was dealing with his dad's struggle with cancer.
I would send long, melodramatic texts to my mom, and she would tell me to focus on my faith in God and that worrying was not what He wanted for me. I smugly agreed she was right, and my friend Rita ended up helping me realize there were upsides to this. Yes, “upsides.” Soon, I started trying to have more gratitude, which led me to focus on doing things for others, even as small as sending cute mail to friends and making collages from magazines. My mind started plunging into vast waters of figuring out my faith and looking around in the deep even if it was just listening to a Bible Project video or a podcast about theology. I basically relented to the fact that I do not control most of my life, but I can control what I do in response and how I react.
Easy, right? Not quite, but I was working on it — then the killing of George Floyd happened. The dread was back in another way because it was a special kind of anger that lies there under the surface, the same kind of anger that is there for a lot of Black people or any marginalized people. The anger that is tired of being tired and tired of people not getting it. James Baldwin, a phenomenal writer and activist, said, “To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time.” It is the rage of knowing this is not new. It is well known to my family and many others because our families know the lived experiences of racism, not just the big ways but the small insidious ways. So what am I to do when it becomes more apparent every day that some people will never accept this truth and the effects of oppression? Am I to believe God wills voluntary ignorance, prejudice, or oppression? I feel the answer must be “no,” but I do not know what happens between my question and my presumed answer. Heck, I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but my realization is that I never knew.
In the past roughly five months, major things have happened. I was reduced in my job. I learned how to be a tiny bit more grateful. I had confronted many of my thoughts. I realized how fragile everything is. Nathan and his family lost his dad, Rick. That same month, on our one-year anniversary, Nathan I got engaged. Here we are, now planning a wedding. I am still figuring out plenty about my faith, beliefs, and me. I know that I believe what God’s will comes to pass no matter what. I am reminded of one of my favorite scriptures, kind of fittingly from the book of Job, when God states:
“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?
Tell me, if you understand.
Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
Who stretched a measuring line across it?
On what were its footings set,
or who laid its cornerstone —
while the morning stars sang together
and all the angels[a] shouted for joy?”(Job 38:4-7)
We don’t know, and that’s okay. I guess.
Courtney is native of the south suburbs of Chicago, a museum educator, crafter, lover of history and sociology, and much more. She likes to spend her time talking too much (once you get her started), writing lists, being creative, dancing around her apartment, being curious, and making people cackle with laughter. Talk to her anytime, and bring tacos.