Staying on an island off the coast of
Florida, we arose early and went to ocean front windows to take in the view.
But there wasn’t a view.
Thick fog hovered along the ocean
surface and invaded the beach.
We were socked in.
So where did the term “socked in” come
from?
According to this source, it dates back
to 1944. “It’s basically derived from pilots and traffic control workers. The
thought is, while looking across the airport runway to check out the “windsock”
to see which way the wind is blowing, if you can NOT see the windsock, you are
“socked in” with clouds and have no business flying!”
And sometimes, spiritually speaking, it
feels like we’re socked in. We can’t see the windsock or the water or how in
the world God is going to do what he said He would do.
So what then?
“Blessed is she
who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!” (Luke 1:45).
An angel had announced to the virgin Mary she would give birth to a baby, the Son of God. What's a teenage girl to think about that? But Mary believed it and these words spoken by Elizabeth affirm Mary’s belief that what God had
told her would happen despite the seeming impossibility of it all.
At times, as
I’ve stared into the fog of a circumstance, I’ve found myself often quoting the
father with a spirit-possessed child in Mark 9:24, “I believe, help me overcome
my unbelief.”
Jesus met his
frank admission with compassion and delivered the child.
Priscilla Shirer
says that God doesn’t call us to do hard things, He calls us to do impossible
things. So often, when we're socked in, impossible seems like the only word to describe the circumstances.
One of my heroes
in the faith is George Muller. In one of my favorite stories about him told in
Streams in the Desert, he found
himself socked in on a boat off Newfoundland traveling from England to Canada. After
spending twenty-four hours on the bridge trying to navigate the tremendous fog,
the captain told Muller that he would miss his appointment on Saturday in
Quebec, that it was impossible to reach the coast in time. Here’s what happened
next.
“'Very well, if your ship cannot take me, God will find some other way. I
have never broken an engagement for fifty-seven years. Let us go down into the
chart-room and pray.'"
“I looked at that man of God, and thought to myself, 'What lunatic asylum
can that man have come from? . . .' 'Mr. Muller,' I said, 'do you know how
dense this fog is?'
'No,' he replied, 'my eye is not on
the density of the fog, but on the living God, who controls every circumstance
of my life.'"
"He knelt down and prayed one of the most simple prayers, and when he
had finished I was going to pray; but he put his hand on my shoulder, and told
me not to pray. 'First, you do not believe He will answer; and second I BELIEVE
HE HAS, and there is no need whatever for you to pray about it. . . Captain, I
have known my Lord for fifty-seven years, and there has never been a single day
that I have failed to get audience with the King. Get up, Captain and open the
door, and you will find the fog gone.' I got up, and the fog was indeed gone.
On Saturday afternoon, George Muller was in Quebec for his engagement."
So, that’s the kind of faith I want. You probably do, too. So, together, let’s stop looking at the fog and put on our eyes on God “who controls every circumstance” of our lives. Lord, help our unbelief.
So, that’s the kind of faith I want. You probably do, too. So, together, let’s stop looking at the fog and put on our eyes on God “who controls every circumstance” of our lives. Lord, help our unbelief.