Not Knowing Might Be the Most Honest Thing We Do

There’s this quote from Agnostic Front that’s been rattling around in my head lately:

“I am an agnostic; I do not pretend to know what many ignorant men are sure of.”

It’s not flashy. Not poetic. But it hits like a brick wrapped in velvet.

We live in a world that worships certainty. Everyone’s got a hot take, a blueprint, a 5-step plan to fix your soul, your marriage, your bank account. Scroll long enough and you’ll find someone selling salvation in a carousel post. But here’s the thing: most of us are just winging it. And the ones who admit that? They’re usually the ones I trust most.

I don’t know what happens after we die. I don’t know why some people get miracles and others get silence. I don’t know why love sometimes feels like war, or why grief shows up in the cereal aisle. But I do know this: pretending to know doesn’t make the ache go away. It just makes us louder.

There’s a quiet kind of wisdom in saying, “I don’t know.” It leaves room for mystery. For grace. For the kind of faith that doesn’t need a megaphone.

Agnostic Front wasn’t trying to be philosophers. They were just calling out the noise. The bravado. The certainty that feels more like armor than truth. And maybe that’s the invitation: to lay down our need to be right and pick up something softer. Something more honest.

So here’s to the not-knowers. The question-askers. The ones who sit in the tension and still choose love. You’re not lost. You’re just real.