Life-Giving Words of Hope & Encouragement

I remember living in England as a child and waking up some mornings to a fog so thick, I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. As a kid, I secretly loved those days—not because of the fog itself, but because sometimes it meant school would be canceled. There was a strange beauty in that haze… a peaceful stillness that made the world feel quiet and soft, like it was holding its breath.

But as I got older, I discovered that fog wasn’t just a childhood delight—it also carried uncertainty. Fog obscures what’s in front of you. It makes the familiar seem unfamiliar. You might know the road is still there, but you can’t see it. So you have to walk forward—not by sight, but by trust.

Isn’t that exactly how life feels sometimes?

God gives you a promise, a dream, a word. You believe. You obey. You start walking. And then… the fog rolls in. Circumstances cloud your vision. People walk away. Plans fall apart. Heaven goes quiet. And suddenly, what once felt clear now feels completely disorienting.

You start to wonder: Did I hear Him right? Am I still on the path? Did I miss it?

But here’s the truth: the path hasn’t disappeared. The promise hasn’t been revoked. God is still there. He’s just asking you to walk by faith—not by sight.

Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Faith is forged in the unseen. It doesn’t flourish in the sunshine—it breathes in the fog.

Faith that Walks When Nothing is Clear

Abraham understood that kind of fog. God promised he would be the father of many nations, yet year after year passed without a child. Logic would have said give up. But Romans 4:18 tells us, “Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed…” That’s what true faith does. It keeps walking when there’s no visible reason to. It believes when belief seems foolish.

But maybe the fog you’re walking through isn’t just about delays or detours. Maybe it’s the fog of shame—of believing that your past has disqualified you from God’s plan.

If that’s you, please hear this clearly: Your past doesn’t cancel your purpose. Your past points to your purpose.

The Woman with a Past and a Pitcher

Mary Magdalene was possessed by seven demons—seven. She wasn’t just broken; she was tormented. And yet, it was her, not Peter or John or any of the religious elite, who was the first to witness the resurrected Christ (John 20:14–18).

And then there’s the woman at the well. Five failed marriages. Living with a man who wasn’t her husband. Isolated. Shamed. Coming to the well at noon to avoid the whispers and judgment of others. Most women came to draw water in the cool of morning or evening—but she came alone, carrying her water jar and her regret.

And yet… Jesus met her there.

Not only did He speak to her—He revealed Himself to her as the Messiah. The very first person Jesus told directly, “I am He”—wasn’t a rabbi, His disciples, or a prophet. It was a woman with a complicated past and a pitcher in her hand.

That detail matters.

John 4:28 says, “Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town…” She left the pitcher. Why? Because she didn’t need it anymore. What she came for was water—but what she received was life.

That jar represented her routine, her shame, her daily burden. Leaving it behind wasn’t just practical—it was prophetic. She let go of what she thought she needed because she had found what her soul was truly thirsty for.

She was no longer a woman with a past and a pitcher. She became a woman with a purpose and a testimony.

Your Past Is the Soil for God’s Redemption

So, before you disqualify yourself based on what you did, or what they still say about you behind your back—remember this: God is not intimidated by your mess. He specializes in it.

That addiction you thought was the end of your story? That divorce? That jail sentence? That depression? That wild season you thought disqualified you? God can use every bit of it.

And He doesn’t just want to use it—He plans to. Because when He brings healing and redemption, it’s not just about you—it’s about everyone who will see your scars and realize healing is possible.

From Death Row to Destiny

I think of Sabrina Butler-Smith. At just 18, she was a single mother, wrongly accused of killing her baby. In reality, the bruising on the child’s chest were present because she had tried to perform CPR when her child stopped breathing. But the justice system got it wrong. She was convicted, sentenced to death, and thrown into a cell with no hope.

Six years later, she became the first woman exonerated and released from death row. And now? She travels the country sharing her story, advocating for justice, and bringing hope to those who feel forgotten.

What was once her grave has become her platform.

That’s what God does.

He takes the fog, the failure, the false starts, and the flat-out injustice—and He flips the script.

Don’t Stop in the Fog

Maybe your fog isn’t shame—it’s waiting. You’ve fasted, prayed, stood on the promise… and still, nothing.

Let me remind you: just because you can’t see the movement doesn’t mean God isn’t working.

Seeds break through after they’ve grown in the dark. Faith is what keeps you walking when the road disappears. It’s what keeps you standing when everything in you wants to sit down and cry. It’s what fuels your spirit to say, “I still believe,” even when you can’t see the breakthrough.

There was a season in my life when I clung to a promise that seemed impossible. The waiting was long, the silence deafening. But during that fog, God was doing something deeper. He wasn’t just working for me—He was working in me.

And when the breakthrough came, it didn’t just change my circumstances—it changed me.

If you’re in a fog today, hear this: Don’t stop. Don’t shrink back. Don’t settle. Keep walking. The road is still there. And the One who called you is still guiding your steps.

He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. (Philippians 1:6)

You don’t have to see the whole picture—you just need to trust the One holding the brush.

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Prayer:

Father,
Thank You for being present in the fog. For reminding me that even when I can’t see the way, You are still guiding my steps. When shame creeps in, silence lingers, or the waiting feels too long—anchor me in Your Word. Remind me that my past has not disqualified me. You can redeem it all. Help me let go of what I’ve carried and embrace what You’re doing. Strengthen my faith in the unseen. Help me to keep walking when the road is unclear. I trust You, even in the fog. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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