Driving home was going... well, not so great.
It was about ten o'clock, and the winter sun had gone down hours ago. I was headed back from my small group with a bunch of wonderful ladies, and my car seemed so quiet compared to all the conversation and laughter we'd been sharing.
As I turned down the road headed out of town, the fog closed in.
Winter fog in Iowa is no joke. It's thick, and it's cold- so cold that when the misty air hits the trees, the moisture freezes and makes landscapes that look like something out of a fairy tale. As beautiful as the final result is, it's not terribly fun to drive through.
I know the route very well, I trust my little car, and I knew I'd be home soon, but that didn't really help my white-knuckled anxiety.
Not really knowing what I would encounter just a few yards in front of me was kind of nerve-wracking- especially with the hidden dangers of deer, tractors, and obstacles in the road that were all very real possibilities.
It can be kind of scary to be heading in a direction without being able to really see where we're going.
Life is like that, isn't it?
We've been told to trust, we know what God wants from us... but we can't see much further than five feet in front of our own faces. I don't know what the next minute will bring, much less the next week or next year.
No matter how well I plan for those turns in the road, there is always the very real possibility that my route will change, that surprises will happen, that I'll be facing things I just didn't expect.
I can't help but think of people who are far from God when I think about the unknown.
It's hard enough to run this race in the fog when I know the end of the story- when I know that pretty soon, I'll be safe at home.
I can't imagine the confusion, the fear, that I'd feel if I didn't know the fog would lift, if I didn't know that the journey would eventually end with warmth and light and safety. I don't know what's coming next, but at least I know that I'm not alone.
Jesus doesn't always lift the fog.
In my own life, I rarely see the purpose behind the turns and twists in this road I'm on until I'm far past them. Only then do I see the the glory that comes from all that mess- the sparkling, shimmering truth that God makes everything good and beautiful.
We're not always meant to know what's next. That's not for us to know. Knowing Jesus doesn't really change that- at least that hasn't been the case in my journey.
We live in a very foggy world right now. There are a lot of hard, terrible, tragic things happening, and it's easy for me to live like there's no light at the end of it all. It's easy for me to white-knuckle through life- to live life in fear.
Face it, there's dangers out there. Real ones. Big ones. And I never see them coming.
Here's the thing, though- as a Christian, I know how it all ends.
Knowing Jesus doesn't mean that we have all the answers. It doesn't even mean that we have very many of them. We can't see what's coming up next.
Knowing Jesus gives us hope that at the end of the journey- even through all the confusion, fear, hidden dangers, all the unknowns of this life- we'll be at home.
DISCLOSURE: In order for me to support my blogging habit, I may receive monetary compensation or other types of remuneration for my endorsement, recommendation, testimonial and/or link to any products or services from this blog. You may see a full disclosure by clicking on my "About" page. I will only promote products that I use, enjoy, or take a shine to. All opinions and reviews are my own and are not influenced by any compensation I may receive.