IDK

Text language is a language unto itself. Back in the day when we wrote letters to people, we may have put the initials L.O.L (notice the punctuation!) and that meant, “lots of love.” Now, in texting language, it means, “laugh out loud.”
There are quite a few text language abbreviations that I’d blush to put to print and explain here. But there is one that I’m seeing more and more, too many times, actually, and not while texting. Too often the students in confirmation class are writing as an answer on their quizzes: IDK. It means, “I don’t know.”
“I don’t know”; its use angers me a bit, but saddens me more. All the work that I assign as their pastor is done so from a shepherding, loving heart that yearns for them to know in their heads, yes, but more so to believe in their hearts. I am seeking to help their parents build a foundation that will last them a lifetime, carry them through the dangerous good times, sad times, tempting times, so that they will be “faithful to the point of death” and eternally wear, “a crown of life” (Revelation 2:10). More so, what I teach them and give them to put to head and heart is meant to give them all the absolute certainty and comfort that there are in a gracious God: Father, Son, and Spirit. “I’m sure!” is a whole lot better than IDK. I don’t want them or anyone to face life or death with IDK.
At one time, ancient Job dealt with a tough life. Many would use a more harsh set of adjectives, maybe horrible, horrid, crushing, even “hellish” life. The devil was unleashed against Job. In the span of two days Job lost everything. His children died in a terrible wind storm. Nomadic invaders killed and looted his servants, property, animals, and possessions. His crops (future profits) were burned. And for those who say, “If you have your health, you have everything,” Job lost that, too, with oozing, painful sores that covered his body from head to toe. The only relief was to scrape the skin eruptions with broken pieces of pottery! Job’s friends offered no comfort, only heaped blame on his broken, burdened heart. So it was no wonder that Job’s wife told him to curse God and die!
But through it all Job put a twist to the text language, IDK. For Job, IDK meant, “I DO KNOW!” He did know that the LORD loved him. He did know that his story didn’t end in pain, in tears, in suffering. He did know that “hellish” would be exchanged for the word “heavenly” in describing him, his life, his present, and for sure, his future. His broken heart and body would be whole, restored, strong, happy, full of joy.
Why could Job embrace an IDK (I DO KNOW) faith, hope, and perspective? Because Easter would be real for him. His Redeemer would rise from the dead. Jesus’ resurrection, though many years later, prophesied for sure fulfillment then, caused Job to burst forth, broken as he and his life were, in the confession: “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes—I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!” (Job 19:25–27).
Through all your brokenness and shattered life situations, whatever they may be, however they are affecting your relationships, your emotions, your heart, your physical well-being, however Satan attacks your soul to cause you to doubt that you are fully and freely forgiven, that God does indeed love you, that death has been swallowed up in victory, that you can face the end of your life with the absolute certainty that heaven is your home and that your body will rise in glory, and that those who believed in Jesus and were taken from you, you will see again and will be given a reunion …sing with Job, IDK, I do know… “that my Redeemer lives; what comfort this sweet sentence gives! He lives, He lives, who once was dead… He lives to comfort me when faint; He lives to hear my soul’s complaint…He lives to silence all my fears; He lives to wipe away my tears; He lives to calm my troubled heart; He lives all blessings to impart…He lives and grants me daily breath; He lives, and I shall conquer death.  He lives my mansion to prepare; He lives to bring me safely there…Oh, the sweet joy this sentence gives: ‘I know that my Redeemer lives!’” (ELH 351) IDK!
David Russow is pastor of Redeeming Grace Lutheran Church in Rogers, Minnesota.