Isn’t it funny how simple observation can open the door to deeper reflection—and, if I’m attentive, to introspection?
On my return from an all-too-brief visit with my daughter in Southern California, I was struck by the dense fog blanketing the Central Valley. The contrast between the world swallowed by that gray veil and the world above it was startling.
I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me. Just days earlier, I had left behind the cold, gray forty-degree weather and stepped into a December day that felt—quite literally—like summer. Warm. Bright. Cheerful. Over eighty degrees. In that moment, the allure of the “snowbird” lifestyle made perfect sense. But now it was time to return, and the transition felt abrupt—almost disorienting.
Life, I’ve noticed, often mirrors that fog. I’ve wandered through seasons when everything felt muted and indistinct—still moving forward, still putting one foot in front of the other, yet unsure whether the path beneath me was leading where I hoped it would.
There’s a deeper—read: spiritual—lesson here. The Apostle Paul captured this human experience with striking clarity:
“For now we see through a glass, darkly.”
—1 Corinthians 13:12
Our understanding of divine reality is partial. It’s like glimpsing ourselves in a tarnished metal mirror or trying to unravel a riddle without all the clues. The Greek word Paul uses for “darkly”—ainigma—suggests not merely dimness, but mystery: something puzzling, unresolved. One day, Paul assures us, that ambiguity will give way to clarity. We will see “face to face,” and what is now incomplete will be made whole.
As our plane descended toward home, the pilot calmly guided us through the fog and delivered a smooth, uneventful landing. I trusted him—largely because I had no choice. I don’t know how to fly a plane. I had no instruments, no controls, no visibility.
The parallel wasn’t lost on me.
Just as I entrusted that pilot to navigate what I could not see, my prayer is to trust my Father with the same quiet confidence—to believe He will faithfully guide me through every fog-laden stretch of life, even when the way ahead remains hidden.
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Pastor Mark
Mark, the eighth of nine children born to Reuben and Henrietta Meeks—dedicated church planters with nearly 30 congregations established across California’s Central Valley—is a preacher's kid who grew up immersed in faith and service. With over forty years of experience teaching, discipling, and ministering to communities, including the hospitalized and incarcerated, Mark responded to God's call to pastoral ministry. He holds degrees in civil engineering and public administration, as well as a Master’s in Theology from Fuller Seminary, equipping him to serve with both practical insight and spiritual depth.
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