It is such a sacred thing to ask for that kind of knowing, and I wonder if it might bring some gentle reassurance to hear that certainty is often more a gift received than a conclusion we can reason our way toward. St. Teresa of Ávila speaks of this with such tenderness, describing how God Himself can place a quiet truth directly into the soul:
"God imprints Himself so firmly in the interior of that soul that when it returns to itself, it can in no way doubt that it was in God and God in it. This truth remains so fixed that even if years pass without God granting that favor again, neither does it forget nor can it doubt that He was there. … It is not that it saw Him then, but that it sees it clearly afterward; and not because it is a vision, but because of a certitude that remains in the soul which only God can place there." [2]
Perhaps this suggests that the strongest kind of knowing is not always something we grasp with our minds, but something God gently places within us when we are open to receiving it. She reminds us that we do not need to exhaust ourselves trying to manufacture this understanding on our own: "We must stop seeking reasons in all these things to see how it happened; since our understanding cannot reach to comprehend it, why do we want to lose ourselves in trying? It is enough to see that the One who does it is almighty." [2]
When that direct experience is not yet present, or while we are waiting for it, there is also a way of knowing that grows through trust, which can be a real anchor even in uncertainty. Fray Luis de Granada describes how this kind of confidence brings its own quiet evidence:
"Lastly, this peace is born of the trust that the good have in God … for this especially makes them remain quiet and consoled even amid the storms of this life, being held fast by the anchors of hope, trusting that they have God as father, as protector, as defender and as shield, under whose shelter they rightly live in peace, singing with the Prophet: 'In peace I will at once sleep and rest; for you, Lord, have secured my life with the hope of your mercy' (Ps 4:9-10)." [8]
I wonder if both of these movements might be part of the path you are on right now — the openness to God’s direct gift of certitude, and also the slow, faithful trust that holds us when that gift has not yet arrived. Both are real ways of knowing, and neither requires us to have all the answers ourselves.