The Road Already Traveled




The snow had fallen heavy across the fields, a white blanket covering everything in sight. Yet as I drove my route, the roads beneath my tires were clear. Someone had gone before me. Road crews had braved the cold, plowed the snow, and laid down salt so I could travel safely. I didn’t see their labor, but I reaped its benefit.

That picture stayed with me: the unseen work of those who prepare the way. And I realized—it’s not just true of winter roads. It’s true of the life of faith.

Scripture tells us we are “surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1). Men and women of faith who endured hardship, persecution, and trials have gone before us. They cleared the path, leaving behind testimonies of endurance and courage. Their footprints mark the way, showing us it can be done.

Paul could say at the end of his journey, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7). His words are like mile markers on the road, encouraging us to press on. The prophets, apostles, martyrs, reformers, and even faithful family members who walked with Christ—they all labored so we could travel confidently along the pathway they laid.

And here’s where the “comfort angel” comes in. Paul also writes that God comforts us in our affliction “so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:3–4). That’s the ministry of comfort: what once was frightening becomes manageable because someone else has already walked it, received God’s mercy, and left behind encouragement. Their testimony is like salt on icy roads, turning danger into safe passage.

Just as I thanked the road crews for their unseen work, I thank God for those who prepared the way of faith before me. Their endurance clears my doubts. Their testimony salts the icy patches of fear. Their example plows through the drifts of discouragement.

And now, the responsibility is ours. We are not only travelers—we are road crews for those who will come after. Our faithfulness today prepares tomorrow’s pathway. Our endurance becomes encouragement for the next generation.

So drive forward with confidence. The road is not uncharted. It has been traveled, tested, and proven. And as we follow Christ, we prepare the way for others to follow Him too—comforting them with the same comfort we ourselves have received.

We can travel the road of faith with confidence because of those who’ve cleared the way.

Reservoirs, Civilizations, and the Church’s Mission


Long before our highways and reservoirs, there was the Indus Valley Civilization — one of the world’s earliest advanced societies. They thrived between 5,000 and 3,500 years ago in what is now Pakistan and northwest India. Their cities were marvels of planning: paved streets, sewage systems, irrigation channels, and cisterns that stored precious water. For centuries they flourished, but when the rains ceased and the inflow slowed, their reservoirs and rivers could no longer sustain them. Over time, the people dispersed, their great cities abandoned, undone not by war but by drought.


That history came to mind as I drove past the Oneida Valley Reservoir this week. Through the windshield I saw the shallow waterline, the exposed banks, the tired look of a system running on yesterday’s supply. And I thought of the church in our time.

The people gather as the season of Hope, Joy, Love, and Light approaches. They light candles, sing carols, and preach sermons. Yet many hearts are heavy, struggling to believe tomorrow will be brighter. Joy is thin, divisions are common, and Love is misplaced — poured into the institution or the season rather than the Lord Himself. The Light flickers, but shadows linger.

The watchman cries out with the words of Jeremiah:“My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water” (Jeremiah 2:13).Do you not see? Our reservoir cannot survive on yesterday’s water. Hope cannot be sustained by slogans, Joy cannot be manufactured by programs, Love cannot be replaced by sentiment, and Light cannot shine without Christ Himself. We need fresh inflow — daily bread, living water, the Spirit poured anew — or our reservoir will run dry.

Even now, homes affected by low water levels are advised to reduce usage. Conservation helps, but it cannot restore the reservoir. The only way the water rises again is for the heavens to open and pour down refreshing rain. We can preserve all we want, but without a fresh inflow, the supply will eventually dry up.

Barna’s research confirms the warning. The number of religious “nones” — those with no faith affiliation — has climbed steadily, now representing nearly a quarter of U.S. adults. It is the sign of an organization failing its primary mission: to bring living water to a thirsty world. And when our own supply is uncertain, when we are in survival mode, our ability to offer even a drink of cold water to “the least of these” (Matthew 10:42) is greatly affected. A reservoir that has been dammed up for years cannot refresh others; its shallow waters leave both the church and the world parched.

Yet the promise remains: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me… out of his heart will flow rivers of living water” (John 7:37–38). Christ is the Living Water. His Spirit is the inflow that renews Hope, restores Joy, rekindles Love, and shines Light into the darkness. And the truth is simple enough to remember as you drive past shallow waters or flickering lights:

Know Jesus, know peace. No Jesus, no peace.

SPIRITUAL CATARACTS: When Our Vision Gets Cloudy


As a professional driver with over 3 million incident-free miles, I’ve encountered my share of heavy fog—and other driving hazards. There’s something uniquely disorienting about fog: the way it swallows landmarks, blurs headlights, and forces you to slow down and trust your instincts. You grip the wheel tighter, strain to see what’s ahead, and pray for clarity.

In many ways, spiritual fog is just as disorienting. Cataracts form when the lens of the eye becomes clouded, scattering light and distorting clarity. In the natural, it’s a slow fade—vision dims, colors dull, and the world grows hazy. But in the Spirit, cataracts form when our gaze shifts from Christ to self, from Kingdom to culture, from eternal to temporal.

Jesus speaks directly to this in Revelation 3:18:

“I counsel you to buy from Me… salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see.”

This isn’t earthly ointment—it’s divine clarity. It’s the Spirit’s touch that restores our ability to see rightly: to discern truth, to perceive eternity, to recognize our condition. Without this salve, we walk in spiritual blindness—thinking we see, but missing the Kingdom entirely.

👁 What Causes Spiritual Blindness?

  • Comparison with ourselves Paul warns in 2 Corinthians 10:12: “When they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not wise.” This is the cataract of self-reference. We become our own standard, our own mirror, our own measure. Instead of gazing upon Christ—the Author and Perfecter of our faith—we stare at our own reflection, adjusting our righteousness by how we feel or how we perform. The result? Dimmed discernment. Blurred conviction. Lost awe.

See also Hebrews 12:2: “Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith…”

  • Fixation on worldly metrics Likes, followers, influence, income, applause—these are the fog machines of the soul. They scatter the light of truth and distort our spiritual depth. We begin to see ministry as platform, worship as performance, and prophecy as content. The lens gets cloudy.

See also 1 John 2:16: “For everything in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—comes not from the Father but from the world.”

See also Revelation 3:17: “You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.”

  • Neglect of intimacy When we stop beholding Christ, we lose clarity. Psalm 36:9 says, “In Your light we see light.” Without His presence, we grope in shadows. Spiritual cataracts form when we trade communion for consumption, devotion for distraction.

See also Isaiah 29:13: “These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me…”

🚦 God’s Fog Lights: The Salve of Christ

Jesus offers salve—not just to see others rightly, but to see Him clearly. This salve is like fog lights for the soul—cutting through confusion, piercing the haze, and illuminating the road ahead. Fog lights are designed to shine low and wide, revealing what’s immediately in front of you when everything else is obscured. They don’t eliminate the fog, but they help you move forward safely, confidently, and with purpose.

In the same way, the salve of Christ doesn’t always remove the fog of life—but it gives us clarity to navigate it. It helps us see what matters, avoid spiritual hazards, and stay aligned with the path of righteousness.

  • Revelation: Eyes opened to the beauty, holiness, and supremacy of Christ. Like fog lights revealing the road’s edges, revelation helps us see the boundaries of truth and the brilliance of Jesus. → See also Ephesians 1:18: “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you…”
  • Conviction: Seeing our true condition—not through shame, but through mercy. Fog lights expose what’s hidden—potholes, debris, or danger. Conviction reveals our spiritual condition so we can respond with repentance. → See also John 16:8: “When He comes, He will convict the world of guilt in regard to sin and righteousness and judgment.”
  • Discernment: Recognizing what is eternal, what is counterfeit, and what is Kingdom. Fog lights help us distinguish between safe paths and risky detours. Discernment helps us choose wisely in a world full of spiritual distractions. → See also Philippians 1:9-10: “And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best…”

This salve doesn’t come from effort—it comes from encounter. It’s bought through surrender, applied through repentance, and activated through worship.


Prophetic Exhortation If your vision has dimmed, don’t reach for self-help lenses. Ask for the salve. Let the Spirit anoint your eyes again. Stop comparing yourself with yourself. Fix your gaze on Jesus. Let Him become your lens, your light, your clarity.


So when the fog rolls in, grip the wheel of faith. Turn on the fog lights of revelation, conviction, and discernment. And drive forward—not by sight, but by light.

SUNDAY DRIVE: THE PARABLE OF THE FAILED TRAFFIC LIGHT



🚦The Parable of the Failed Traffic Light

Most would agree that traffic lights exist to create order at busy intersections. They don’t think, adapt, or show discernment — they simply function. But what happens when the systems we’ve come to depend on go offline?

That’s exactly what I witnessed one day: two traffic lights out on a heavily traveled stretch of road. According to conventional wisdom — and the traffic engineers who installed them — their absence should have caused chaos. Instead, something extraordinary happened: peaceful order emerged. Drivers slowed, considered others, and moved cautiously through the intersection. No honking, no wrecks, no gridlock. Just mutual respect and personal responsibility.

What a picture of what’s possible when people operate not by rigid control, but by internal conviction.

🔥Spiritual Spark

This moment reminded me of the difference between law and grace. Laws are good — needed even — to teach boundaries and consequences. But they’re passive tools. Grace, however, is active. It empowers. When the light was out, drivers leaned not on a device but on discernment. Similarly, when we operate under grace, we move with humility. We act with caution. We have a shared awareness that we’re not the only ones on the road.

God didn’t create us to be micro-managed. He gave us the Holy Spirit — the ultimate inner guidance system — to navigate life with wisdom.

“I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people.”Jeremiah 31:33

This new covenant re-centers our spiritual flow not around blinking lights and external control, but around responsive hearts. The civil cooperation I witnessed at the failed intersection mirrored a kind of Kingdom living. Each person was yielding, aware, gracious, and sober-minded.

📖Scriptural Infusion

Let’s layer in a few more connections:

  • Romans 8:14“For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God.”
    → Spirit-led believers aren’t reckless; they’re responsive.
  • Galatians 5:22–23“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance… Against such things there is no law.”
    → When the Spirit governs, the need for excessive regulation diminishes.
  • 1 Corinthians 10:23“‘I have the right to do anything,’ you say—but not everything is beneficial.”
    → Freedom without wisdom is a collision course. But freedom exercised in love builds a civil and spiritual society.

Reflection Question for the Ride:
When “the lights go out” in your life, how do you respond? When systems fail, how do you react? What do you do when you’re left without outside guidance? Do you lean into the Spirit within, or do you panic without?

You were made for more than controlled stops and starts. The traffic of life might be dense, but grace empowers you to move with purpose, empathy, and faith.

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