We do not like blank spaces.

We want footnotes for our suffering. We want charts for our delays. We want a memo from heaven explaining why the door closed, why the prayer lingered, why the report came back with that word on it. If possible, we would like a seat in the counsel room of God.

Paul gently closes that door.

“For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor?”

No one.

That could sound severe. It is not. It is steadying.

There is a difference between not knowing and not trusting. Not knowing is about information. Not trusting is about surrender. Romans 11 does not invite us to shrug our shoulders and give up. It invites us to bow our heads and look up.

God’s wisdom is deep. His knowledge is rich. His judgments are unsearchable. His ways are past finding out. That means there will be pages in your story that feel unfinished. Paragraphs that seem out of order. Chapters that close without explanation.

Mystery is not the enemy of faith. Often it is the workshop where faith is shaped.

Think of Job. He asked questions that thundered across the sky. He never received a tidy explanation. He received something better. A clearer vision of God. And that vision was enough.

Think of the disciples on Friday. They could not see Sunday. The path felt wrong. The silence felt final. Yet the very confusion they feared was the road to resurrection.

The holiness of not knowing is this. You stop trying to evaluate God from above. You kneel before Him instead.

Practically, it may look like resisting the urge to invent explanations. It may sound like this simple confession: I do not know why this happened, but I know who God is. It may mean choosing worship while the questions are still echoing.

Notice how Paul ends the chapter. Not with a lecture. Not with a list. With a word.

“Amen.”

So be it.

It is the quiet agreement of a heart that has peered into mystery and found God still trustworthy. It is the steady breath of someone who cannot trace every line, but trusts the Author.

You will not know everything. But you are known.

You will not chart every turn. But you are led.

There is strength in that. Not loud, not flashy. Just settled.

And sometimes the most faithful response is not an explanation.

It is Amen.