I can see him

I used to believe that walking with God meant having some sort of map, if not the full route, at least the next step, the next door, the next green light. But now? I am standing in the fog. Everything feels blurry, uncertain, hidden behind veils I cannot lift. I reach out for direction and feel nothing but empty air.

And yet, He is here.

This season of unknowing is not a punishment. It’s a purification.

He is not withholding my next step to be cruel. He is slowing me down to show me what’s eternal. What’s true. What’s Him.

When I cannot see what’s next, He is inviting me to see Him more clearly than ever before.

Not the version I built in my mind.

Not the version that always gives me what I want. Not the version that moves the mountains on my timeline.

But the God who is.

The God who was.

The God who always will be.

He’s peeling away my dependence on outcomes.

He’s breaking my addiction to certainty.

He’s undoing every idol I’ve made of comfort, control, and clarity.

And in their place, He’s giving me Himself.

It’s in the waiting that I see His mercy.

It’s in the quiet that I learn His voice.

It’s in the wilderness that I encounter the wildness of His love.

No, I don’t know what’s next.

But I know the One who goes before me.

And maybe that’s the whole point.

Not that I’d have all the answers.

But that I’d finally see the Answer Himself.

Not that I’d grasp the plan.

But that I’d cling to the Planner.

Not that I’d predict the provision.

But that I’d trust the Provider, even in the dark.

He’s not hiding my future to frustrate me.

He’s unveiling His face to transform me.

And maybe… just maybe…

That’s the miracle I needed all along.