The lighthouse at Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia, in the fog
Photo credit: Janet Sketchley
I love to walk in the fog. My world shrinks, cocooned in a soft, grey blanket. I feel peaceful and secure. Given that I live in Atlantic Canada’s coastal region, that’s probably a good thing.
Fog simply is. It has no intent, benevolent or malicious. Our individual natures shape how it affects us. Some thrive in it, while others feel oppressed and caged in. It saps their energy and weighs them down.
Our lives are often a lot like that. Things happen that are outside of our control. Panic wells up inside of us when events seem to be moving too fast, or taking a direction we don’t like. How should we respond? Who knows what’s ahead?
We can’t choose our circumstances any more than our favourite weather patterns. They come to us, filtered through God’s loving fingers. The only control we have is over our choice of response.
In a way, it’s like driving in the fog. We creep along, wearing down the brake pads and straining to see ahead. The limits are suddenly too close. What was perfectly safe for a pedestrian doesn’t allow enough reaction time at a faster pace, and the headlights reflect back at us instead of showing the way.
It’s different when we’re passengers. As long as we trust the driver’s ability, we may as well relax. We have neither control over nor responsibility for a safe arrival at our destination. The decisions are out of our hands. We can fret or enjoy the ride; the results will be the same.
If our lives are a journey, travelling sometimes through poor visibility, sometimes through clear sunlight, where would we rather be, behind the wheel or in the passenger seat? (Well, truthfully, I’d like to take over in the sunny places!)
God is our Creator. He is somehow bigger than time, not limited by it like we are. The Bible says He knows the end from the beginning, and the Old Testament prophets have shown this to be true.
He knows what the future hides from us. We’re free to choose our own way, but accepting His wise guidance gives us a better chance. It’s as if He’s the cartographer who drew the map. Suddenly the limited vision, the daunting unknowns, cease to threaten. He understands the dangers, and can navigate us through them. And He will never abandon us.
The Psalmist declared that even when his path was dark and dangerous, he would fear no evil, because God would be with him to comfort and protect him. When our road gets bumpy, and the fog closes in on us, God is holding the wheel. He can get us safely to the end of our journey. I’m glad it’s not up to us.
[This post first appeared as an article in the Spring 1999 issue of Esprit.]
