You can feel it everywhere right now. The uncertainty.

It's in the headlines. It's in conversations at work. It's in the questions people are asking about jobs, about the economy, about what's coming next. Whether it's your own situation or just the air everyone seems to be breathing - there's a low hum of anxiety that won't quite go away.

In times like this, the instinct is to grip tighter. To seek more security. To delay any risk until things "settle down."

I get it. I feel it too.

And then I sit in Mass and hear the story of Abraham.

God speaks to Abram: "Go forth from your land... to a land that I will show you."

No map. No GPS. No blueprint. Just a promise: "I will bless you... and you will be a blessing."

Our parochial vicar, Fr. Godwin, preached on this text last Sunday, and his words have been rattling around in my head all week. He said:

"Abram's greatness begins not with achievement, but with obedience. He steps into the unknown because he trusts the One who calls him."

And then this:

"Many of us like stability - secure jobs, predictable schedules, retirement plans, insurance policies. Yet faith always involves risk. God still says: 'Go.' Go out of comfort. Go out of fear. Go out of old habits. Go toward the life I am showing you. No backup plans."

No backup plans.

That phrase has been sitting on my chest for days.

Here's what I'm wrestling with.

Suzanne and I are in a season of discernment. For months now, I've been building something called Domus Formation - a platform for Catholic families and individuals seeking deeper formation in the faith. It started as a side project. It's becoming something more.

The question we're facing is whether I step away from stable employment to pursue this full-time. To build something that doesn't exist yet. To trust that the seeds we're planting will bear fruit - even if we can't see the harvest.

Every pragmatic muscle says: Wait. Not now. The world is too uncertain. Build more runway. Get more confirmation. Have a backup plan.

Two Saturdays ago, I was at the Cathedral for our third graders' Confirmation and first Holy Communion. Before the Mass, I had fifteen or twenty minutes in Adoration - kneeling in the last pew, just me and Our Lord in the quiet.

I told Him the thing I'd been afraid to say out loud: "If I really go forward with this, I only hope I'm able to keep providing for my family."

And I heard Him say back to me, clear as day, in my heart: "You've never been the one who provides. I provide."

That landed hard. Because it's true. Every paycheck, every opportunity, every open door - none of it was ever really mine to control. I've been a steward, not a source. And the One who has provided all along is the same One saying "Go."

Last week, on my birthday, I took a small step. I shared Ad Alta Leadership on LinkedIn - a formation resource for leaders navigating the second half of life - and invited people to sign up for "5 Questions Before the Climb." Dozens of professional connections responded. The feedback has been encouraging. The door seems to be opening.

And then I hear Abraham's call. And Fr. Godwin's words. And I realize that faith has never worked that way - waiting until you feel secure enough to trust.

Faith always begins with leaving something behind - with a complete step into trust.

Here's what I'm not saying: I'm not saying prudence is bad. I'm not saying you should quit your job tomorrow without a plan. I'm not saying recklessness is the same as faith.

But I am saying this: there's a difference between prudence and fear dressed up as wisdom.

Prudence asks, "What's the wise path forward?" Fear asks, "How do I avoid all risk?" Prudence prepares for the journey. Fear never leaves the house.

Fr. Godwin put it this way:

"Grace gives strength IN hardship - not removal of hardship. In a culture that often avoids sacrifice and seeks instant results, Paul reminds us that discipleship requires courage. Not loud courage. Faithful courage."

Faithful courage. The kind that takes the next step even when you can't see the whole staircase.

I don't know if you're in a season of transition right now. Maybe you are - by choice or not by choice. Maybe the uncertainty I described at the beginning isn't just "out there" but has landed in your own life. A job loss. A health diagnosis. A relationship ending. A door closing that you thought would stay open.

Or maybe you're feeling a call - a pull toward something new - and you're waiting for the uncertainty to clear before you respond.

Here's what I'm learning: the uncertainty may not clear. The world may not settle down. The "right time" may never announce itself.

Abraham didn't wait for a map. He trusted the One who called him.

And that same God is still speaking. Still calling. Still saying "Go" - even now, even in this, even when the path isn't clear.

I don't have this figured out. Suzanne and I are still in the middle of the discernment. We're praying. We're talking. We're trying to distinguish between prudence and fear, between wisdom and excuse-making.

But I wanted to share this with you because I suspect I'm not the only one sitting in this tension.

If you're there too - if you're hearing a call and wondering whether now is the time - I'd encourage you to sit with Abraham's story this week. And maybe ask yourself Fr. Godwin's question:

What is God asking you to leave behind? And what is He inviting you toward?

The answer might not come with a map. But it might come with a promise.

And sometimes that's enough to take the first step.

If this resonated with you, I'd be honored if you shared it with someone who might need to hear it.

Michael Halbrook is a Catholic deacon, husband, and father of four. He writes at DeaconMichael.net and sends a weekly email called Wednesday @ Lunch - reflections on faith, family, work, and life.