“The hill pines were sighing, o’ercast and chill was the day. A mist in the valley lying, blotted the pleasant May.” Robert Bridges
I stand at a fork in the road. Despite thinking I knew where I was headed, I now am unsure. There is a heavy mist descending, an ominous soup smothering the world. Birds that have spent their day singing beautiful choruses are silenced. Even the power of the wind is tempered, reduced to a whimper.
As I stand smothered in the damp cloak of mist, there are two options. From where I stand, both look identical. Neither looks particularly inviting. To take either path would be to advance into the darkness, to disappear into the unknown. But I must take one path.
Then, in the distance, barely visible through the mist, a light. So faded it is hardly there at all. Sitting at the end of one of the two paths, this tiny pixel of hope draws me in. Offers me reassurance, direction, a sense of peace at the decision I am about to make.
I will choose the path with the light at the end.
Quite often I feel like my journey with God is a bit like choosing a path in the mist. I don’t often get to a crossroads and find God there (or an angel) with a neon sign pointing the way.
More often than not, it’s a case of looking for the faint light. Sometimes it can take what seems like an age to see the light.
Even when I’ve seen the light, it doesn’t make the rest of the journey easy. For me, it’s often still misty. It clears from time to time, and when it does it’s incredible. But then the mist descends again.
I’m starting to realise some things about God and the mist. Realising that just because he’s not there with a neon sign, doesn’t mean he’s not showing me the way. In the mist, I have to listen more. Use other ways of hearing from God, rather than me storming forward without thinking, only to take the wrong path.
Maybe God sends the mist to teach me. And maybe the mist is just part of life. In reality, it’s probably a bit of both.
Whatever it is, I’m learning to find God and follow God in the mist.