emerging from the fog

Life has its foggy spots, doesn't it?

I remember driving one early December up to Lansing, IA for our yearly deer hunting trip.  It was one of those late fall/early winter weird weather days: not quite cold enough to snow, but not quite warm enough for a thunder storm.  As we were driving up the increasingly windy, normall scenic highways along the Mississippi, the time turned from evening to night, and the weather turned from overcast to suddenly foggy.

It was a thick fog, too - the kind that looks like a wall standing out in front of you completely hiding what is behind it.  For a moment,  you could clearly see the pavement and double yellow lines illuminated by your headlights in front of you.  But then suddenly, you were in the fog, straining to see anything beyond just a few short feet.

This summer, my family has been in a fog.  For us, it was the fog of selling our house and buying another.  We knew that God was calling us to do it.  We believed we were following after his clear call.  But for about 10 weeks, we were in a fog.  Navigating the marketing, the offer, the inspections, the updates, the negotiations, the financing... each presenting numerous challenges, pitfalls, demands, questions, and anxieties.  For moments, we could see a little ways out ahead of us, but then suddenly... back into the fog.  

The funny thing about fog is this: it doesn't really weigh much of anything.  But man, is it heavy.  And: it's easy to begin to feel like nothing really exists outside of the fog.

Now that we are getting settled into our new place, the fog is clearing, and we are beginning to see the light again - and feel light again.  As I sit and think about this for a moment, I'm struck by a few realities:

Life with God is, more often than we'd like to admit, foggy.  It just is.  If life with God is a life of faith (Eph. 2:8-9), and faith primarily deals with things that are unseen (Heb. 11:1), then you can bet you're going to be spending some significant time in the fog - in places that just aren't as clear as you'd like them to be, through seasons that just aren't as light as you'd prefer.  From Abraham, to Moses, to Gideon, God's people are constantly asking him: "How do I really know that you'll really work all of this out the way that you said you would?"

And I am struck with another reality: Life with God will always require an uncomfortable level of obedience fueled by a costly, sacrificial faith.  Outside of the fog, the roadsigns that tell us we're heading in the right direction are clearly visible: peace, joy, contentment, purpose.  But in the fog, when those roadsigns are hidden, what will keep you confident enough to continue is this sobering realization: you can't see, you don't know, and the only way that any of this works is if God is, is good, and is acting on your your behalf.  Your faith in the goodness and power of God is your only roadsign.

And that's not comfortable.  It's not a "peace in the storm" feeling.  We didn't go to bed every night for these last ten weeks resting in that thought, arms extended in the air like some sort of CD cover on a worship album.  On the contrary: it was hard.  It was costly.  It wass risky.  It was uncomfortable.  It was not a warm blanket.  It was a cross. 

In the fog, you die to your need to have it all figured out and to see it clearly, and you decide to keep obeying.  Now, sometimes you disobey.  Sometimes you give up.  Sometimes you fight with God and with one another.  Sometimes you buckle underneath the stress.  You do it imperfectly.  But through it you realize that God doesn't demand a perfect faith.  Rather: He uses your imperfect faith to perfect you through the grace he offers through the work of Jesus and the presence of his Holy Spirit.

And that's what I feel like today, for the first time in awhile.  I feel like I have been perfected by God during these last 10 weeks.  I look back on how I navigated through that, and see it frought with my own sin, but also replete with God's grace, strength, and faithfulness.  I feel today more confident in God's ability to act, preserve, protect, and change - not because of how I lived in the fog, but because of his ability to sustain me through it.

So, if you're in a fog today, take heart.  God has a purpose bigger than simply leading you through the fog.  He's capable of saving you through it.

Comments

[Kim Cooke]

Thanks for the post Jesse. You read my mind! Dense fog has settled around the Cooke's, yet we are walking by faith...not by sight!