Mountain Moments for a Messy Girl: The Faith to See Beyond the Fog

The stark beauty of it smacks me across the face, compelling me to pull over.  All I hear is the slight volume of air that escapes my chronically-too-empty lungs (I am working on my breathing).

I park my car and turn to take it in.  The fog is heavy – beautiful and smoky.  It swirls in the dips and crevices.  Curling up over the fences.  Sweeping across the grassy field.  Kissing the roofs of the barns.  And there, in the distance, looms charcoal black mountain peaks.  They're jutting out of the fog – as if the peaks have materialized out of nowhere.  I hadn’t noticed the mountains at first glance.  It wasn’t until I looked up and saw the tops that I realized I was passing by one of my favorite spots along route 63.  The fog had blinded me to their presence.  Oh, but once I noticed?  The awe I experienced?  It slowed me down.  Slowed me down to a slumped-shouldered, slack-jawed, and wide-eyed beggar of grace. 

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I have been going, going, going.  It seems to be my default within the past year.  Driving along the bumpy, windy, road of this messy life – eyes fixed ahead, with the occasional glance to the side.  And where I’m at, currently?  Lost in a fog.  I feel like I just keep bumbling around, bruising my heart – and other people – as I bump into hard things.  I cry out to God in the moments where He extends grace for me to see my need of Him.  I plead with Him to meet me, to guide me, to tell me what to do.  I pour out my heart to Him on certain days – asking for Him to rid me of myself and mold me into the woman He’s made me to be: ever increasingly more like Christ.  Other days?  I avoid.  I distract.  I do. 

Fog for me?  It breeds fear.  I’ve always been a huge fan of seeing fog in the distance dancing across the landscapes, but my knuckles always get a little whiter when driving through it.  I don’t like not seeing where I’m going.  The last full blown anxiety attack I had was three years ago in San Diego, just days before surrendering my life to Christ.  What was I doing when I experienced it?  Being led by my team while we were blindfolded.  I couldn’t see where I was going, and all sense of control was taken away from me.

Faith.  “The assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)  And it is by this faith that we are called to walk – not by our sight.  The control that I want to hold onto can be the very thing that clouds my vision of what God wants to do – where He wants me to walk.  And heartbreakingly, it clouds my perception of who He is.

For as I grasp out wildly before me, groping in the fog for some sense of control, I start to view God as being far away.  I don’t necessarily see Him at work.  So, I think He doesn’t care – that He’s aloof.  Though I know that’s not what Scripture says.  And I tell myself this – true words spoken in the dark.  Whispers of hope slipping out, swirling into the enveloping fog, and never penetrating their intended target of my hardening heart.  The Gospel – a repeated assault to my pride and lullaby for my brokenness – both jerks me awake and soothes me to sleep.  Those moments are graces that I’m grateful for, and yet the fog engulfs me the rest of the day.

But as I sat there under the mountain?  It was such a moment of God’s grace entering into my fog – piercing my confusion and pain.  The fog had completely blocked out any sight of the mountains, and yet just above it, the tops of the mountains could clearly be seen.  I knew, from seeing the peaks above the fog, that it was covering the rest of the mountains.  Just because I couldn’t see them through the fog, didn’t mean the mountain ceased to exist. 

For the last few months, I’ve been missing the seasons in which I experienced such sweet intimacy with Jesus and could see the Spirit actively at work in my heart, life, and the lives of those around me.  I’ve thought back to those times and have prayed to return to these places.  I’ve been camped out at the bottom of the mountain, in the fog, craving a return to the peak of the mountain where I could see God’s glory.  And wondering why my prayers haven’t been answered yet.  Wondering why I haven’t left this season of continuously fighting for joy and getting tired.  Wondering why I still have a fear of drawing near to God after finding new wounds from my past.  Wondering why He hasn’t yet answered my plea for Him to help me let go and trust Him in this season of my life.  And all of it has left me believing the lie that He’s not near.  That He’s left me to my own devices, and that He doesn’t care about the details.

But what I saw, and fell in love with, on those mountaintops with God was His glorious self.  The beauty of Christ and the truth of all He has accomplished was what I saw when the fog wasn’t present.  When the fog wasn’t weighing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe in His grace.  When the fog wasn’t pulling my eyelids shut, making me blind to His glory.  When the fog wasn’t choking me, making it hard to sing His praises.  And as I sat there on the side of the road, looking up at the mountains, I remembered.  The reality is, His glory, His beauty, and His truth – His very presence –remains steadfast no matter the circumstances – no matter the position you find yourself in.  He, Himself, said, “I AM WHO I AM.” (Exodus 3:14)

He is near.  Even now.  And He is the Rock to which I can cling to – and if I let go?  He won’t.  For His right hand upholds me. (Psalm 63:8)

And I know it’s not popular to be so open about the raw and ugly sides of us.  But, I have seen God use the ugly in the past to bring forth beauty.  And I trust that He can do it again - even if I don’t see it right now.  My Perfect Papa knows me, and He knows I’m a beauty seeker.  And I know that one day, He’ll lead me out of the fog.  But in the meantime, join with me in prayer that He can help me praise Him, see His beauty, and by His grace, love others well in the midst of this fog? 

“O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faint for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.  So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory.  Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you.  So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands.” ~ Psalm 63:1-4

“But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.” ~ Isaiah 43:1-2

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” ~ Hebrews 13:8