Faith through Fog

As I inched further and further away from the center of town on Sunday morning, my Saturn bumping along the pot-holed pavement, the fog grew more and more dense. By the time I reached church, the air was suffocatingly thick. Motionless. Even the birds were quiet, their perky chirps muffled by the damp curtain.

I turned the car towards Southwood’s driveway, and it was only then I noticed the church was still shrouded in fog, completely obscured, not even a shadowy outline visible. If I hadn’t known for sure the church was there, I wouldn’t have known it was there.

It was then the line from Hebrews popped into my head, the often-quoted verse about faith:

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

Sure enough, as I drove closer toward Southwood, the church loomed into view, cross rising through swirling mist.

I’d like my faith in God to be a bit more like my faith in the fact that my church would indeed burst through the fog that gloomy Sunday. It was so easy for me to trust, to know for certain that the building was there, though I could not see even a glimpse of it. I knew my church stood behind that shroud, because I’d seen it with my own eyes a thousand times.

When I really think about it, though, I could say the very same thing about God. Sure he doesn’t appear in black and white, standing before me in flowing robes. But I see him nonetheless. Sometimes a mere shadow, ethereal mist, wisping away before I can be really sure. Sometimes clear as day.

Last week I saw him in Noah’s outstretched hand, as he handed me a twenty dollar bill yanked from the depths of his piggy bank. “For the girls in Africa,” Noah said, palm open, holding crumpled bill (we’d been talking about the Tanzanian orphans we sponsor that night at dinner).

I saw him in my blogger friend Jennifer's sweet words, someone I’ve never even met in person, as she lovingly supported me and prayed for me in a time of turmoil.

I saw him in my friend Sarah as we talked quietly, painting our plaster and laughing the heaviness away.

I saw him in dazzling, intricate ice crystals clinging to bare branch, as I wound round an icy lake.

The fog lifts when I open my eyes wide, and I see God plain as day.

So what about you? Got foggy faith? Or are you seeing through the gloom?

Earth’s crammed with Heaven.
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes.
“Aurora Leigh”

Elizabeth Barrett Browning