I listen in the darkened sanctuary as a young worship leader passionately describes an experience he had, standing on the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland
He says, “The sky was the brightest blue, and the grass an emerald green beneath my feet as I peered down over the jagged cliffs to watch seagulls dancing, and the waves throwing themselves at the shore.
I was so moved that I stepped back from the precipice and spontaneously started singing, ‘Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds Thy hands hath made…I see the stars, I hear the roaring thunder, Thy power throughout the universe displayed…How great Thou art…’”
Instead of being moved, I have to work to keep from laughing!
While my friend saw God’s awesome wonder that looked like this…
This is what I saw:
When I visited this iconic spot in Ireland, fog wrapped around us like wet wool. We inched along in our rented car, slowly climbing up the steep, narrow road, then down.
At the bottom there was a small shop, so I went inside and asked, “Did we just drive past the Cliffs of Moher?”
With a lovely Irish accent, the salesgirl cheerfully answered, “Yes! It’s gorgeous! Would you like a postcard to see what you missed?” (insert eye roll)
In the fog at the Cliffs of Moher we felt disappointed, out-of-control, and a little scared on the edge of a cliff.
I’ve been thinking about our experience in Ireland during this “foggy” time of the pandemic when we can’t see clearly, we’re not sure exactly what’s next, and we’re disoriented.
How does the fog, or what you see right now make you feel?If you could name the effect of your “fog” right now what would it be?
You may feel like the Psalmist who wrote, Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress; eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and body with grief.
Psalm 31:9
It may seem like you’re driving blind.
Could it be that God wants to use this blindness, like He did with Saul on the road to Damascus, to get our attention?
Maybe in the fog God wants to draw our attention to this: Our sight and power are limited, but His is not.
Elisha and his servant are in a “foggy” time in 2 Kings 6:15-17 when they are surrounded by the Arameans. Danger is the most visible thing.
“When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. “Oh no, my lord! What shall we do?” the servant asked.
“Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.”
Maybe we need to ask, not “What am I seeing?”, but “What am I missing?”
If we had God’s view above the fog on the Cliffs of Moher we would have seen that:
- The fog was limited; it wasn’t as pervasive as it felt. There was a beginning and end.
- Beauty was still there on the other side of the fog.
Think of the “fog” the disciples experienced the last week of Jesus’ life, walking to the cross! Nothing was going like they expected and they couldn’t see through the fog to the resurrection beyond the cross!
All they could see was pain, persecution, and death!
Jesus wasn’t acting like they thought He should, but He saw what they didn’t see. He knew what they didn’t know. And He loved them beyond measure.
Because we live on the other side of the resurrection we have the benefit of seeing the empty tomb even when there is so much we can’t see.
We have this and many more evidences of God’s faithfulness in Scripture, so even in this confusing time we can trust that He will bring light and life.
This Easter may we lift our eyes above the fog of disorientation and fear and loneliness to the God who sees what we don’t see and knows what we don’t know, and loves us beyond measure.
