It was one of those mornings when it seems the clouds have come for a forever visit. They were low-lying, drifting not up above as usual but meandering about, mingling with us ground-dwellers. They minded their own business, certainly, and had no concern for the additional anxiety they caused me as I drove.
If you’ve ever driven in fog like that, you know the stress I’m talking about. It’s the stress of not being able to see more than fifty yards in front of you even as you drive at breakneck speed toward it. It’s the stress of knowing that something could spring on you at a moment’s notice and you have to be ready to immediately deal with whatever it is. It’s the fear of what lies just beyond your reach – just beyond what you can see. It’s the fear of the unknown.
And as I sat at the hundredth red light of the morning, fretting about having to drive on the interstate in such dense fog, I realized that while fog is a pain to drive in, it’s a blessing to live in.
Not the near-tangible fog of early spring mornings, but the fog of the spirit. It’s not that God wants me to be inattentive, in a haze and unaware of the things going on around me in the spiritual realm. Certainly not. What I think – what I realized that morning with my sweaty palms gripping the steering wheel – is that ultimately, we are in such a fog. We live in a world with limited sight distance.
That’s the reality of how we live, but through anxiety and worry and our desperate need to control – control – control absolutely everything, we are straining the eyes of our spirits in order to catch a glimpse of something we aren’t meant to see. We grip the reins of our life with sweaty palms, holding them as tightly as we can in order to stay safely in the realm of certainty.
What I think God wanted me to understand that morning in traffic was that He gives us limited sight distance for a reason. He allows fog and uncertainty so that we can trust Him beyond what we can see. He keeps us from seeing more than what is right in front of us because we don’t need to see more than that. All He ever asks us to do is the best with this moment; and then, once that moment is done, to do the best we can with the moment that follows.
We don’t have to run the entire race today. Today we are only responsible for today’s leg of the race.
Is God calling you to be a part of your church’s missions outreach? Just put your name on the list. Sign up. Do one thing today, and then tomorrow you can think about what role you’ll play on the team. After that you can think about fundraising and time off work and all of the other things that come with it. One thing at a time. Limited sight distance.
Do you feel like going back to work after staying at home for several years with your small children? Update your resume. Then, later, you can think about how to manage your time and how you’ll take care of things at home when you’re at the office all day. One thing at a time. Limited sight distance.
Do you have a dream that God has placed on your heart? Take one step – make one faltering move forward. One thing at a time. Limited sight distance.
It’s in every aspect of life, and in every way it reminds me that God never said it was my job to see everything. He said I was to keep my eyes on Him, following Him step by hesitant step, into the unknowns masked by fog.