“In his heart a man plans his course…but the Lord determines his steps.”
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I’ve read about brain fog. Dave Asprey in his books Head Strong and Bulletproof Diet reported his studies, experiments and results about brain fog. But MindFog is different. It is the pause between the breath in and the breath out that has no clarity, that has no wind of its own, that needs to reach beyond the heavens to the Heavens and the mansions promised by Jesus. Ah…the yud! (The Moses Code by James F. Twyman) The comma! The place and space where God meets His People in prayer. I sat on the porch reaching my wanting hand out into this space and discovered that what usually brings peace brought nothing today…absolutely nothing. No words. No thoughts. No feelings. Nothing. So I left the porch seat, the sun, the warmth empty. Absolutely empty.
I hadn’t done my daily reading yet. I hadn’t really talked to Him like I usually do before I start the day. I had done nothing but acknowledged the mindfog, a bridge between my morning and His Plans. What are those plans, Father? I don’t want to go to work.
The old saints and mystics would have shrugged this off as a test-of-faith. But what is my faith in comparison to theirs? Mine is as willy as the tide, sometimes low, sometimes high, with various degrees between. Not rock solid like theirs: their unwavering trust in Him, their ways formulated around Him, their thoughts molded in likeness to Him. Bernard Clairvaux. C S Lewis. St. Augustine. Andrew Murray. A W Tozer. St Thomas Aquinas. Brother Lawrence. St Anslem. Octavius Winslow. D L Moody. St Francis of Assisi, St. Benedict. Charles Spurgeon. Thomas Merton. There are others in my Kindle Library. I’ve read tidbits of all of them. And for a moment each held an aha moment, but only a moment.
Why? Isn’t this the God who has the answers I need, the answers we all need, be it stone age or tech age? What worked 1000, 2000, 3000 years ago, if it is of God the Infinite, Creator of the Infinite, answers should be for all time and for all people, making that a Miracle in itself. If THAT GOD exists, where is HE? The mindfog remained throughout the morning making breakfast and getting ready for work very uninviting. If indeed there is a God, The God, He has the answers for me, for us, for all of us. Oh how I wish He would share!Oh Lord my God…
“My faith lies not on the wisdom of the world but in God’s power.”
So I lay all these questions under Your Feet….not at the foot of the cross exactly but at Your Feet golden in appearance, gold in strength and beauty and relevance; bare feet that at the turn of the head appear as Lamb’s Feet tiny and hesitant and needing of direction; at the turn of the head appear as my feet scarred from allergies, blistered from work, swollen from this journey. “And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian. A rainbow, resembling an emerald encircled the throne…“
My questions were relentless, spewing from my mouth without end, no filter to the thoughts, just anger and frustration and confusion. But somewhere between the buttered toast and the cup of microwaved soup, when i paused to chew and sip, I noticed that the mindfog had defused into dust-like particles.Instead of being bundled up into emotional generalities, each thought had a beginning and a middle and a suggested resolution.
He lifted me to my feet. He smiled upon me. With the tenderness of a Shepherd to the weakest of the flock, He kissed my forehead. He said nothing. But I knew from His Glance that I was loved even with all my questions and impatience. My puny little lamb’s heart had needed more than just answers; it needed acceptance. And I went to work.
between the breath in and the breath out that has no clarity, that has no wind of its own, that needs to reach beyond the heavens to the Heavens and the mansions promised by Jesus. Ah…the yud! (The Moses Code by James F. Twyman) The comma! The place and space where God meets His People in prayer. I sat on the porch reaching my wanting hand out into this space and discovered that what usually brings peace brought nothing today…absolutely nothing. No words. No thoughts. No feelings. Nothing. So I left the porch seat, the sun, the warmth empty. Absolutely empty.
The old saints and mystics would have shrugged this off as a test-of-faith. But what is my faith in comparison to theirs? Mine is as willy as the tide, sometimes low, sometimes high, with various degrees between. Not rock solid like theirs: their unwavering trust in Him, their ways formulated around Him, their thoughts molded in likeness to Him. Bernard Clairvaux. C S Lewis. St. Augustine. Andrew Murray. A W Tozer. St Thomas Aquinas. Brother Lawrence. St Anslem. Octavius Winslow. D L Moody. St Francis of Assisi, St. Benedict. Charles Spurgeon. Thomas Merton. There are others in my Kindle Library. I’ve read tidbits of all of them. And for a moment each held an aha moment, but only a moment. 
So I lay all these questions under Your Feet….not at the foot of the cross exactly but at Your Feet golden in appearance, gold in strength and beauty and relevance; bare feet that at the turn of the head appear as Lamb’s Feet tiny and hesitant and needing of direction; at the turn of the head appear as my feet scarred from allergies, blistered from work, swollen from this journey. “And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian. A rainbow, resembling an emerald encircled the throne…“