When the Fog Thickens — And the Accusations Begin

 

                “Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by your name. You are Mine.”
                Isaiah 43:1 (NKJV)

There are seasons when my thoughts feel clouded, not with passing worries but with something heavier. It settles quietly, like fog on still water, and it brings questions I did not expect. I found myself wondering why I felt accused simply for being who I am. It was not personal sin. I know my faults and I ask the Lord daily to search my heart. This was something different, something that seemed to rest around me rather than rise from within.

It felt as though I was sitting in a small boat while a storm formed around me. I had not stirred the waters, yet the waves seemed to lean toward me. I listened and read and prayed, but the fog did not lift. It pressed in and made me feel as though guilt was being placed on my shoulders for a story I had not written.

In the middle of this, my thoughts returned to Laddie and Sunshine. Laddie carries himself with such faithful steadiness. Sunshine moves with joyful unpredictability, sometimes disappearing for a moment before bounding back as if her heart never left home. The other morning she ran off and my thoughts ran with her. They scattered and grew anxious. When she came back, full of life and certainty, it felt like the Lord whispering to me that He had not lost sight of me. He reminded me that I am still His.

That stayed with me. In a world that often tries to describe people by guilt, God describes me by grace. Where there is an unspoken pressure to apologise simply for being, He speaks a different word to my heart. I am forgiven to live. I belong to Him. My identity is not something the world assigns to me. My identity is something He speaks over me.

I also found myself wondering what guilt actually accomplishes when it is placed upon someone. I noticed that it does not lead to understanding. It does not lead to reconciliation. It certainly does not clear the fog. Guilt shifts weight, but it does not remove burden. It echoes accusation rather than healing. And it leaves the heart weary.

What God asks of me is very different. He does not place inherited guilt upon me. He teaches me to walk humbly, to listen with compassion, and to speak truth with grace. He invites me to look at the past with honesty but not condemnation. He shows me how to acknowledge the pain of others without denying the story He has written in my life. He reminds me that I can stand without hardness and I can listen without losing myself.

So when the fog gathers and accusation seems to seep into the air around me, I remind myself that I am not alone. Feeling accused does not mean I am guilty. Feeling silenced does not mean I have lost my voice. The Lord is my shepherd and He leads me into clarity at His pace, not mine. He steadies my steps, clears my vision, and brings me back into His peace.

                    “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
                     He makes me lie down in green pastures.
                     He leads me beside the still waters.
                     He restores my soul.”
                     Psalm 23:1–3 (NKJV)