Seeing clearly after the fog
Although he brings sorrow, he also has mercy and great love. Lamentations 3:32
This morning I started my day as usual with devotions. Technology was not my friend as my Bible app would not open. Not to be deterred, I grabbed my Devotional Bible – edited by Max Lucado – from my nightstand. As I was heading to Ezekiel, my trusty book fell open to Lamentations. Not just anywhere in Lamentations – nope – at a page that I had dog-eared and worn. The highlighted words were a mirror reflection of where I was at last week – in a fog.
Thankfully, I had friends and family members praying for me and guiding me through what was quite possibly the hardest day of my life since the bus crash. I did make it through, and miraculously with God’s help the fog lifted almost immediately.
I don’t believe in coincidences. I needed that reminder this morning that God was not absent last week, nor was He when my son died.
I’m a prayer vigil person. If I cannot sleep, it is usually because God has someone in mind that I should be praying for. Last night was no different. I have several friends, their kids, and communities facing a fog of their own. So, I prayed . . .
While I personally cannot do much other than that to help ease the storm for each of them right now, I can remind them that there is one who can lift the fog. My life story is a testament to that fact. Cling to him and He will guide you to new found peace.
The devotional below is from “No Wonder They Call Him the Savior” by Max Lucado.
The fog of the broken heart.
It’s a dark fog that slyly imprisons the soul and refuses easy escape. It’s a silent mist that eclipses the sun and beckons the darkness. It’s a heavy cloud that honors no hour and respects no person. Depression, discouragement, disappointment, doubt . . . all are companions of this dreaded presence.
The fog the broken heart disorients our life. It makes it hard to see the road. Dim your lights. Wipe off the windshield. Slow down. Do what you wish, nothing helps. When this fog encircles us, our vision is blocked and tomorrow is a forever away. When this billowy blackness envelops, the most earnest words of help and hope are but vacant phrases.
If you have ever been betrayed by a friend, you know what I mean. If you have ever been dumped by a spouse or abandoned by a parent, you have seen this fog. If you have ever placed a spade of dirt on a loved one’s casket or kept vigil at a dear one’s beside, you, too, recognize this cloud.
If you have been in this fog, or are in it now, you can be sure of one thing – you are not alone. Even the saltiest of sea captains have their bearings because of the appearance of this unwanted cloud. . .
Think back over the last two or three months. How many broken hearts did you encounter? How many wounded spirits did you witness? How many stories of tragedy did you read about? . . .
The list goes on and on, doesn’t it? Foggy tragedies. How they blind our vision and destroy our dreams. Forget any great hopes of reaching the world. Forget any plans of changing society. Forget any aspirations of moving mountains. Forget all that. Just help me make it through the night!
The suffering of the broken heart . . .
Seeing God . . .does wonders for our own suffering. God was never more human than at this hour. God was never nearer to us than when he hurt. The Incarnation was never so fulfilled as in the garden.
As a result, time spent in the fog of pain could be the God’s greatest gift. It could be the hour that we finally see our Maker . . . Maybe in our suffering we can see God like never before.
The next time you are called to suffer, pay attention. It may the closest you ever get to God. Watch closely. It could very well be that the hand that extends itself to lead you out of the fog is a pierced one.
I know the story behind this song, but sometimes I believe that it was written just for me. I think music is often a reflection of my soul and story.