Last week after turning in my final paper of the summer, I flew to California with some of my dearest friends. Between the seven of us, there are nine children and one on the way, several full and part-time jobs, two in-process seminary degrees, and a myriad of roles and responsibilities inside and outside of our homes. The fact that we all made it on the plane felt like a miracle only orchestrated by the grace of God. We pulled into Lake Tahoe just before sunset with a clear view of the lake and the mountains in the distance. I stood on the balcony of our condo taking in the scene for all of thirty seconds before jumping into action to make a plan for dinner and getting to the grocery store. I am that girl on group trips and as much as I try not to be, I really can’t help it.
The next morning, thanks to being an early central time riser in pacific time, I woke up long before the sun. I patiently waited for the mountains to appear, ready to take in the beauty I neglected the night before. It took a few hours to realize that, while the sun had risen, the mountains were nowhere to be seen. Smoke from the California wildfires had blown in overnight, leaving the lake, our view, and much of California in a hazy, hazardous fog.
As the smoke persisted each day of our trip, I found myself thinking about the uncertain circumstances we find ourselves in. The heart catches that can trip us up and lead us into doubt. The moments in life when we ask things like –
What is God doing?
Where is He?
Is He really kind or good or for me?
The mountains hadn’t moved, they hadn’t changed, they remained the same mountains that were there all along, they just couldn’t be seen through the fog of the smoke - talk about a metaphor for the Christian life. Sometimes it is hard to see God in the middle of the mess.
Rather than current circumstances or fickle feelings, we are called to anchor our hope on what is true about God – our good, sovereign, benevolent, just God, who does not change regardless of season, circumstance, space, or time. The author of Hebrews knew this full well, when he talked about faith being the conviction of things not seen. A belief in God, an assurance of His character, peace in His plan and will for our days will be easily shaken if we attempt to base those things on the here and now of our circumstances or on our feelings. That’s just the kind of shifting foundation Jesus warns against in Matthew 7:24-27. When the rain comes and the wind blows and the smoke settles, the house built on sand simply cannot stand.
We combat uncertainty and the doubt that rises up in the midst of uncertainty by meditating on what is true and reorienting ourselves in God’s story. When we can’t see clearly, we can claim God’s promises, we can trust that He is working for our good and his glory, and we can rest in His everlasting kindness. May God give us eyes to see more of who He is and to trust Him in the uncertain, unclear, and unsteady moments. May He give us the courage to believe what is true even when we can’t see clearly.
It’s our faith in what we can’t see that helps us endure to the day that the smoke clears and the fog lifts and we live no longer by faith, but by sight.
What a day that will be!