"How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?" — Psalm 13:1
Dear believer,
Sometimes God feels distant. But we know He's not. Remember, the Hebrew name Emmanuel means "God is with us." Not just back then but now.
Nevertheless, the fog may settle in for a season.
If you're familiar with fog, you know it typically forms in the morning. An apt spiritual metaphor, isn't it? How often do we wake up to a spiritual fog? Anxious. Fearful. Hurried. Feeling alone.
This is where faith must remember what is there. What we've seen. What we know. What is true.
Even when the blazing sun is blocked from our sight by clouds, we know it's there. If we could rise above the clouds, it would be as bright as ever.
Even if we can't see or feel the presence, power, and purpose of God, we can close our eyes and know what's true. Paul called this the thing of first importance in 1 Corinthians 15:3-8,
That Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, 4that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, 5and that He appeared to Peter and then to the rest of the Twelve disciples. 6After that, He appeared to more than five hundred brothers at once, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep. 7Then He appeared to James, then to all the apostles. 8And last of all He appeared to me also, as to one of untimely birth.
Why did Jesus give his life for you and me? A love born from a desire for us to be reconciled to God in joy. That is why it was for "the joy set before him" (Hebrews 12:2) that he endured the cross.
He will not forget you and his absolute devotion to you any more than a parent can forget a child.
He may feel distant. But He's not. He's as present in the fog as though it were a clear midsummer afternoon. And He is not against or just with you, but for you, "working all things for good" (Romans 8:28), even though we can't see how the sorrows of the fog can be woven with a redemptive purpose.
The same was true with the disciples and the cross. They couldn't see how God could use the crucifixion of Jesus for good. Nevertheless, the cross was precisely the instrument the Father used to open the floodgates of mercy, fulfilling the heart of God to reconcile us to himself.
And once reconciled, it is our privilege to trust God as our Abba, Father, as His sovereign care, wisdom, and goodness is all a gift for us to treasure--especially in the fog.
Even though the fog is but a mist that will dissipate, sometimes it lingers (painfully) and we begin to question biblical reality. But in the fog, what is true doesn't become untrue, as if the fog replaced what is true. No, even in the fog, what was true is true.
The fog simply makes it hard to see.
This is why, especially in the fog, we need the tenacious faith of a child that can close one's eyes and see what they know is true.
We know that the sovereign plan of our Father is unfolding according to his perfect providence.
We know that what happens now is not capricious, frivolous, or meaningless.
We know that every moment is part of a tapestry woven with purpose and pain, trauma and triumph, sadness and joy.
Even the cross echoes these themes.
Eventually, and gloriously, just like Jesus rose to new life, purpose will eclipse pain, trauma will be superseded by triumph, and sadness will give way to the fullness of joy that, unlike the fog, will never dissipate.
Because the gospel is true, hope lives. And where hope lives, the believer rests. Because God is not distant but is near.
He is with us and for us. Even in the fog.
Eventually, David, the author of Psalm 13 who questioned the presence, power, and purpose of God in his life, was able to say, "5 But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. 6 I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me."
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