I’m in a fog. And not just because I live in Portland. The future of my work in Africa, my writing career, vocation, my role as a husband – it’s all steeped in mystery so thick and so dark it catches in my throat and unsteadies my breath.
I know great things lie ahead, but at the moment, I only see a few feet in front of me.
Despite the darkness, I believe this fog is telling me something. It’s telling me I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
The tool of God in times of fog is the lantern. A tiny light, illuminating only a few steps at a time. In times of darkness, we cling to the lantern. One step and then the next. Trusting the light to do its job and solidify our shaky steps.
In the darkness I find myself praying for it all to be revealed. If only I could have the full vision now. See the final chapter at this moment instead of the next.
But total light would ruin the vision. Spoil the skills and ideas meant to be honed, the relationships meant to be built, the conflict we’re meant to endure.
Most importantly, if the house lights are flipped on and the entire journey is illuminated, there is no need for the lantern.
The lantern is the life force. It’s our intimate connection to the Creator. The physical manifestation of God at our fingertips.
Life is hard. The road is long and narrow. The workers are few. We may see more fog than light for years at a time.
But the fog is the entire point. It represents our need for the light and the confirmation of our calling. A life without fog is a life of complacency and boredom. It’s reading the last page of the novel and skipping the conflict, climax and resolve.
Are you in a fog? Wish it would all just fade away?
Don’t. Cling to the lantern of light. This is the way it’s meant to be.