The Mercy of the Mist

"For we walk by faith, not by sight." 2 Cor 5:7

We're a people obsessed with the horizon.

We've been conditioned to believe clarity is a pathway for safety and to be "lost" is to be failed by our own lack of preparation.

For the better part of my life, I lived in the friction of that belief. Exhausted by the labor of trying to control and create a clear path, certain that if I could only see far enough, I could finally rest.

But this morning, the world disappeared.

Driving into the heavy, gray silence of a morning fog, I found myself in a place where my sight was limited to the twenty-five feet immediately before me. The landmarks were gone. The destination was a mystery. And in that obscured space, I realized a truth that contradicts every human instinct: The blur isn't an obstacle. It's an invitation.

I've discovered through my wanderings that it is mercy when God obscures the road ahead. In the vagueness of the unknown, our self-reliance is forced to starve, and something far more ancient begins to grow. Faith, trust, and hope don't thrive in the bright light of certainty. They are forged in the quiet, damp air of the mist.

We've mistaken control for peace. But true peace isn't the absence of the fog. It is the presence of the Guide. In the simplicity of not knowing, we are wrapped in a safety that our own planning could never provide. We are finally, blessedly, forced to walk slowly.

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"Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path." Psalm 119:105

"As we stand at the threshold of a new year, looking out toward the unknown of 2026, my prayer for you is one that might feel unsettling.

I pray that God would blur your path.

I pray He would intentionally dim the lights on your five-year plans and your carefully constructed maps. Not to frustrate you but to protect you. I pray He leads you so deeply into the fog that you have no choice but to reach out and find His hand.

We think we want the view from the mountain top. But, intimacy is found in the valley where the air is thick and we have to stay close to hear His breath. There's a sacredness in the 'not seeing.' There is a profound, holy rest that only comes when we finally admit we cannot see the way home.

Don't fear the haze. Don't resent the cloud that has settled over your circumstances. To walk slowly and steadily in the fog, relying on the next twenty-five feet of grace, is the most precious, most secure place a soul can ever be.

Step into the blur. You are more held now than you have ever been."

I love you!!

Jason

#2026 #lovefierce #takeanotherstep #liveleadlove