You are standing in the thick of it, like a lost soul standing on a foot bridge with neither end visible. The fog does not lift, nor does it give a hint as to a possible destination. And you stand there, wondering if you should proceed forward, stay where you are, or return from whence you came. It is a moment of suspension, a moment of questioning.
I think we all have gone through such moments in life, when life does not proceed as we think it should, and we are left wondering, should we go forward or wait, act or surrender, trust in providence or proceed with hope? And the fog continues to hang around us, misty and wet, hiding our vision, dampening not just our hair but our spirit.
Perhaps Isaiah experienced this when he wrote Look down from heaven and regard us from your holy and glorious place! Where is your zealous care and your might, your surge of pity and your mercy? O Lord, hold not back, for you are father and mother, lord our redeemer.
No matter how deep your spiritual life, fog always brings some sense of confusion. It isn't that we do not trust. It is more that in our desire to serve, we find our role unclear. In our willingness to take the blame, we sometimes imagine the fog is our fault.
But psalm 40:8 tells us to know that in our waiting, we are heard. The psalmist prayers: I have waited, waited for the Lord, and he stooped toward me and heard my cry.
Surrounded by fog, we must not forget the gift of God. I recently experienced this gift, a moment when the Lord very much stooped toward me and heard my cry. It came in the form of a friend, whose conversation very much lifted my mind, soul and spirit. And though the fog did not lift, my spirit did.
Perhaps that is the lesson I am meant to learn. To appreciate the gift I might otherwise forget while I'm surging forward. Perhaps the fog is so I will take a moment to wait for the Lord. Or perhaps, I just need a friend to remind me of all of these things, so that despite the fog, I will not lose heart.
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