I was in a scene from an old black and white movie, or so it seemed. The kind where you are walking in a thick mist by the sea docks. All you can hear is the sound of your own footsteps on the planks and the methodical wail of the fog horn somewhere in the distance. The grayish, moist fingers stretch to envelop everything around you. Do you move on through the thick soup carefully placing one foot in front of the other as you tap to make sure the path is solid? Do you stand still and hope this opaque veil will lift, or wait for God to grab your hand and lead you through it? Lord, give me a signal, a flash of a torch up ahead to let me know if I am going in the right direction.
I choose to trust – a purposeful act of believing that He is here watching over me. Yet at the same time somehow, because He is not temporal as I am, My Lord is also outside the fog handling whatever it is I am not yet privileged to detect with my faith eyes. Perhaps, I must re-train my eyes to see only Him, and not what I having been choosing to see.
Is that a faint glimmer of the Light of the World through the mist up ahead, beckoning? I ease towards it with renewed hope. I am on the right path after all.
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. . . For we walk by faith, not be sight. 2 Corinthians 4:18, 5:7