Over the last week I’ve hit a bit of a slump. All the wonder of our miraculous house sale and move has faded and I’ve been faced with the reality of the season we’re in right now – a time of waiting, limbo, transition.

People often ask me, “Do you know what you’re doing yet?” I smile and say, “No.” The mix of emotions that travel across their faces can be confronting. It would be easier to answer, “Yes, everything is sorted. We know where we’ll live, what we’re going to do, where our girls will go to school, how we’ll manage.” But I can’t say that. We don’t know. We’re aware of some possible options but mostly we’re still in the dark.

If these conversations unsettle me I remind myself of Psalm 119, verse 105.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”

I’ve heard these words many times, know them off by heart. To me they always painted a picture of God’s word shining bright and clear, showing us the path He has for us. Then a few years ago, I heard a teaching which brought a radical shift in my thinking.

In Bible times the land was rugged and rocky; paths were often crude and hard to follow. A walk in the dark could lead to injury or even death if you slipped or took a wrong turn, particularly in mountainous areas. Those who dared to venture out at night would be sure to carry a lamp – a small, clay vessel with a flaming wick fuelled by household oil. They often hung the lamp by a rope and swung it back and forth in front of their body, lighting up the path directly before them. Sometimes they tied a second, smaller lamp to their ankle so they could see exactly where to place their foot as they stepped. It was a literal lamp to their feet.

If you’ve ever experienced a blackout and had to live by candle-light for a while, you’ll understand how limited those little flames would have been. The walker would not have been able to see much beyond the next step. Their journey would have been one of complete dependence on that little flickering light – one step at a time.

Sometimes our lives can be like that. We sense God is leading us in a specific direction but we can’t see all the details. We take one step then He reveals the next. Perhaps the next part doesn’t become clear right away. That’s when we’re required to trust, to wait, to allow Him – in His timing – to show us where to place our foot.

Waiting can be difficult. We can lose focus and become disoriented, like one whose lamp has been completely snuffed out. But it’s so vital that we hold on.

God uses those times of waiting, of darkness to prepare us for the next stage of the journey. We see this principle all through creation. Deep in the earth a dry, brown seed is quietly nurtured till it bursts open and pushes its vibrant, green shoot up through the surface. The lowly caterpillar, seemingly trapped in the confines of its dark cocoon, is transformed and released as a magnificent butterfly. Silent trees stand naked as they secretly draw in nourishment from the soil before being clothed with a veil of leaves and blossoms in spring.

Times of darkness can seem silent, empty, meaningless. But our Father sees the whole path and His timing is perfect. If we have to wait a while to discover the next step in our journey, He has a purpose in that.

So I’m choosing to trust Him. To push ahead without His light would be like clambering over rocks on a cliff edge at midnight.

I wouldn’t dare take the risk.