One of the most natural tendencies in human nature is to want certainty. We crave black-and-white answers, clear instructions, and measurable results. This desire extends to faith—our longing to “nail down” exactly how to obey God’s commands so that we can feel secure in our righteousness. But Jesus came to challenge that kind of certainty, not by abolishing the law, but by fulfilling its true purpose.

The Mishnah, an oral tradition that accompanied the Torah, arose from a sincere question: How do we specifically obey the commandments we’ve been given? The problem, however, was that in attempting to measure out obedience in concrete terms, many missed the heart behind God’s law.

Jesus didn’t come to tell people to throw out the law; He came to fulfill its purpose (Matthew 5:17). Yet many of the religious leaders of His day had reduced obedience to a formula—one they could control. The more they refined the law into detailed, measurable actions, the more they could assure themselves they were “getting it right.” But in doing so, they had built a faith that didn’t actually require faith.

This isn’t just an ancient problem. Today, people still cling to certainty as a way to avoid the discomfort of trusting God in the unknown. If we can fully explain or control something, we don’t have to rely on God.

In the movie Finding Nemo, the whole journey is about learning to let go—stepping into the unknown, risking relationship, and trusting that the adventure itself is worth it. That’s what faith is like. This is why we should be wary of any theological perspective that guarantees a certain kind of outcome.

That’s not actually faith. Faith is being able to say, I don’t know exactly how this will turn out, but I trust You, Lord.

This doesn’t mean we don’t bring our requests to God—Jesus encourages us to ask boldly. But true faith says, Even if it doesn’t go the way I hope, I know You are good.

Throughout church history, Christians have fallen into two opposite errors when it comes to obedience:

Legalism provides an appearance of morality apart from God’s help. It’s right behavior for the wrong reasons—obedience separated from love. It’s the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son, who felt entitled to his father’s favor because he had followed the rules. People raised in the church often struggle with this—we can be blind to our own sin, feeling that we have earned God’s favor through our “goodness.” But self-righteousness is just as lost as rebellion.

On the other hand, some preach a version of Christianity that emphasizes grace without any call to holiness. The idea is that since Jesus has taken care of sin, we don’t need to worry about obedience. But this is another distortion. Obedience isn’t about earning grace—it’s about cooperating with it. Jesus didn’t free us from obedience; He freed us for obedience. Real love for God produces a desire to follow Him (John 14:15).

The key is not just external obedience but transformed hearts. Psalm 19 reminds us that God’s laws aren’t burdensome—they reveal His character and invite us into a deeper relationship with Him.

So why do we struggle with this? Why do we turn faith into a rulebook or, alternatively, resist any expectations of obedience?

The answer is often fear.

Fear is behind our desire for control. It’s behind idolatry and injustice. It’s what drove the Pharisees to cling so tightly to their religious rules—they were terrified of losing their identity, their status, their sense of being “right.” Their entire self-worth depended on doing everything correctly.

But Jesus exposed their real issue: they were hiding their guilt and shame under a religious veneer. They had built their identity on being good rather than being loved. That’s why Jesus’ message was so offensive to them—He was pointing out that they had a problem only He could fix.

We do the same thing today. We try to prove our worth through performance, self-sufficiency, or moral superiority. Or, we avoid the weight of conviction by dismissing obedience as unimportant. But Jesus offers us something different—grace that doesn’t need to be earned and love that transforms us from the inside out.

The way forward isn’t more rule-following or more rule-breaking—it’s surrender.

Following Jesus means putting yourself in His hands and saying, I trust You. It means obeying not to earn favor but because we love Him. It means embracing the tension of faith—the places where we don’t have all the answers—and believing that He is enough.

You don’t have enough, but Jesus gave you His enough.

Be bold where Scripture is clear, and be humble where it is vague. And most of all, trust that in the unknown, in the ambiguity, in the letting go—He is in control.