One Saturday I was crossing the Arkansas River on the I-430 bridge. Fog blanketed the river to the right, so that I couldn’t see the dam or even the river. I took a quick glance to the west. I could glimpse bits of the island and sandbars there.
The fog’s mystic beauty lifted my spirits. I thought of Genesis 1 talking about the spirit of God was hovering over the waters of the earth. The mist reminded me of God’s presence with me in the midst of the busy day ahead.
Sometimes in life it feels like I’m traveling through a thick fog. In 1 Corinthians 13, Paul said that now we see through a glass darkly—often I’m not content with that. I strain to see what’s ahead and figure out where I’m going.
I wondered that Saturday if at times my frantic efforts caused me to miss the spirit of God hovering all around. For trying to see the future exactly, I was missing the beauty of the mystery of God.
Suddenly, my driver’s seat became a holy place, as I marveled that God’s lovely mystery was all around me, each and every day, if I just look.