NOTE: This devotional originally appeared on The Wildroot Parables last year around this time. I felt it was appropriate to bring back this poem and this sentiment, and as the fog moves into our forecast once more, I hope this devotional blesses your October days, one year later!
in the morning the train of the night-queen's robe grows fragile as she passes and lies heavily on the hills and drifts into somber valleys where unnamed saints of fur and feather once lived and preached and now are buried; this mist this prophet-mist is born to pass obscuring details speaking in tongues softening everything; keeping silence and feeding a holy hush a cathedral with roof of cloud and altar-paths underfoot.
As October leads into November we start to wake to mistier and mistier mornings, draped in thick fog from the not-so-distant ocean. It lingers from first light to right around lunchtime, when the thin autumn sun slowly burns it away.
I’ve always loved mist. It has a certain romance to it. It forces your perspective close, keeping everything in the background indistinct. All you can see is what is immediately in front of you. Clarity is not guaranteed until you move onward, into the fog, deeper into mystery.
Is it any coincidence that the word mist bears such similarity to the word mystery?
Actually, yes. It is a coincidence. (Sorry about that.)
Disappointingly, from what etymological research we have available to us, mist and mystery don’t share a common root or even a common history. Which I find funny, and a little strange.
Regardless, the words are related because of circumstance, if not by origins. Mystery is obscured, and mist obscures. But while mist resolves and eventually blows away after hours, or perhaps days, there is no such guarantee with mystery.
Some mysteries are not meant to be solved.
In the autumn, as we walk deeper into the year’s darker half, mist becomes a teacher. All of life is taken one step at a time, while all else is obscured. Some mysteries we will never solve, but mists will part as we move forward. On and on, bit by bit, clarity is revealed through movement, not stillness.
Autumn is the color-filled playground of the God who is both God of Mist and the God Behind the Mist, and each step we take is a testament to His holy gifts: alternating, clarity and mystery, back and forth, onward into the mist in a perfect providential dance.
Discussion Question
“Clarity is not guaranteed until you move onward, into the fog, deeper into mystery.”
Do you agree with that statement? Why or why not? Is clarity ever really guaranteed? Does mystery help or hinder us as we step forward? All thoughts and musings are welcome!
Thank you for reading!
Moved by this piece (or simply feel like supporting my coffee habit) and want to contribute a one-time donation? Click the Tip Jar button below!
For more writings like this, subscribe for free!
“Clarity is not guaranteed until you move onward, into the fog, deeper into mystery.”
I don’t think full clarity is ever guaranteed. However, this made me think of a commentary I read a long time ago (no idea where or who) about Psalm 119:105 “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”
Basically, it said to consider the “lamp” more like a flashlight then a spotlight. A flashlight only shows you a few steps ahead. It doesn’t illuminate the whole path, which tends to be what we want it to do. ;) We have to take the next step to be given more light to see by. I think this aligns well with needing to take a step deeper into the fog in order to see more clearly.
Beautiful poem! ❤️
I don't think clarity is guaranteed, either in the midst of physical for or in practical life circumstances. Perspectives contradict, understandings clash, and any moment but the present is obscured by the fog of time.