Following God into the Fog Even When the Hike Doesn’t Go as Planned
Ever plan a camping trip that seemed cursed from the start? You prep the gear, check the forecast, gas up the truck, and it starts pouring when you pull out of the driveway. Then the cooler leaks, the firewood’s damp, and your youngest drops his sleeping bag in the creek.
That’s the kind of trip where you sit back and say, “Why did we even come out here?”
Now picture Moses having that same moment in Exodus 5—but instead of soggy gear, he’s facing a furious Pharaoh, an angry Israelite mob, and a God who feels strangely silent.
You see, Moses obeyed. He did the right thing. He went where God told him to go. And everything went downhill.
Modern Dads, Ancient Problems
It’s 2025, and maybe your story feels similar. You made a bold move to lead your family spiritually. You started praying over your kids before bed. You committed to tithing again. You said no to that unethical promotion at work. You took a stand.
And what happened?
- Bills stacked up.
- The car broke down.
- Your teenager stopped talking to you.
- That addiction you thought was dead started whispering again.
It doesn’t feel like a victory. It feels like wilderness.
And Exodus 5 tells us—you’re not alone.
“Let My People Go”—and Let the Trouble Begin
Let’s revisit how it unfolds in Exodus 5:1-2 (KJV):
“And afterward Moses and Aaron went in, and told Pharaoh, Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, Let my people go, that they may hold a feast unto me in the wilderness.
And Pharaoh said, Who is the Lord, that I should obey his voice to let Israel go? I know not the Lord, neither will I let Israel go.”
Classic dad moment: You follow the instructions exactly, and it still backfires. Pharaoh doesn’t just say no—he cranks up the heat. “No more straw for the bricks,” he commands. “Same output expected.”
Suddenly, the Israelites are exhausted and enraged. And who do they blame? Moses.
That’s when he hits the wall:
“Lord, wherefore hast thou so evil entreated this people? why is it that thou hast sent me?” — Exodus 5:22 (KJV)
Sound familiar? Ever whispered that at 2 a.m.? “God, why did you send me into this? I’m trying to do the right thing. Why is it getting worse?”
Outdoorsman Truth: Pressure Comes Before the Payoff
Any man who’s ever field-dressed a deer, hauled a canoe upriver, or built a fire in a rainstorm knows this: the payoff often comes after the push.
Just because it’s hard doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.
It might mean you’re doing it right.
“The presence of difficulty is not the absence of God.” — C.S. Lewis
Moses wasn’t off-track. He was exactly where God wanted him. But obedience triggered opposition.
We often think obedience should lead to comfort. However, Scripture shows us that it often leads to confrontation before it leads to deliverance.
Faith Isn’t Proven in Comfort, But in Resistance
If you’ve ever tried to pull a trout from a deep stream, you know: resistance means there’s something alive on the other end. When you start walking in obedience and feel pushback? That’s a sign your faith is doing something real.
“God never promised we wouldn’t face Pharaohs. He promised He’d go with us.”
So don’t let the early resistance in your walk discourage you. God’s deliverance often takes the long trail, not the shortcut.
Challenge for the Trail
Let’s close this first stretch with some trail-tested reflection:
- Where in your life has obedience led to unexpected struggle?
- Are you tempted to believe that hardship means you heard God wrong?
- What “Pharaoh” currently resists your changes in your family or faith?
📍This week, write that down. Bring it to prayer. And remember this: God often leads us into battles we didn’t plan—so He can show victories we didn’t expect.
When God Seems Silent and You’re Left Holding the Rope
So Moses obeys. He goes toe-to-toe with Pharaoh. And instead of being hailed a hero, he becomes the scapegoat for every Israelite bricklayer with a sore back and a broken spirit.
Let’s pause here—not at a lesson stop, but at a moment we’ve all tasted.
You tried. You obeyed. You gave your best. And everything still fell apart.
What do you do when doing the right thing makes everything worse?
The Ache of Unanswered Prayers
After Pharaoh rejects Moses, the Israelites don’t just lose hope—they turn on him. They meet him outside Pharaoh’s palace with the biblical equivalent of, “Thanks a lot, Moses.”
You can practically hear the sarcasm in their voices in Exodus 5:21:
“The Lord looketh upon you, and judgeth; because ye have made our savour to be abhorred in the eyes of Pharaoh…”
Translation: “You just made everything worse.”
Moses is crushed. The people he came to help hate him. His mission feels like a disaster. And worse? God doesn’t say a word.
Have you ever prayed and heard…nothing?
Maybe you’re there right now. You obeyed God in that tough conversation. You humbled yourself in your marriage. You decided to get clean. And the silence that followed was deafening.
Welcome to the holy tension of waiting.
C.S. Lewis once described God’s silence like this in A Grief Observed:
“Where is God? …Go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face.”
Lewis wasn’t losing faith—he was being honest about the feeling of silence. But Exodus reminds us: silence does not equal absence.
God Is Working in What Feels Like a Wreck
Here’s what we miss in the moment: God was already moving behind the scenes.
Moses had no idea that Exodus 6—where God lays out His full plan of deliverance—was just around the bend. He couldn’t see it. All he had was the weight of confusion and the sting of what looked like failure.
Honestly, it’s a lot like those early mornings in the Florida swamp, hunting whitetail in a place that feels more like Jurassic Park than a deer lease.
I remember one hunt where I’d scouted the perfect tree the day before—just off a game trail, tucked behind palmettos, marked with a piece of bright orange survey tape. Easy, right? Only the next morning, I’m trudging in before dawn with fog so thick I couldn’t see the bill of my cap. Every cypress looked the same. The trees all whispered with that weird swamp echo, and the orange marker? Gone. Either I missed it, or the tape peeled off in the humidity.
Suddenly, I’m standing ankle-deep in murky water, flashlight dancing off mist and spiderwebs, thinking, “What in the world am I doing out here?”
That’s what obedience feels like sometimes.
You follow the map. You did the prep. You prayed. You stepped out in faith. But you can’t see what’s ahead. All the landmarks you trusted disappear in the fog. It feels like God moved the tree.
But what I didn’t realize was that I was just a few yards off—right on the edge of that marked tree. I finally found it by feel—just barely caught the faded strip of tape fluttering in the fog. I climbed up, settled in, and not thirty minutes later, movement. A buck slipped through that trail just like I’d scouted.
Sometimes, the fog is part of the process.
God lets us feel lost—not to punish us—but to slow us down, to build trust in Him, not just our maps.
You might feel like you’re ankle-deep in spiritual fog right now, unsure if you’re anywhere close to where God’s taking you. But just because you can’t see the tree doesn’t mean it’s not there. And just because you feel lost doesn’t mean you’re off course.
God’s working. You’re closer than you think.
“Trust God even when the trail disappears. He knows where it leads.” — Modern proverb for trail-walking dads everywhere.
The Emotional Toll of Leadership
It’s important to recognize what this chapter reveals about Moses, not just as a prophet, but as a man.
He’s exhausted. Disappointed. Second-guessing everything.
“And Moses returned unto the Lord, and said, Wherefore hast thou so evil entreated this people? Why is it that thou hast sent me?” — Exodus 5:22 (KJV)
In today’s words:
“God, why did you even send me? Did I miss something? Why is this blowing up in my face?”
And here’s the truth—leadership carries weight, especially for Christian dads.
- You step up spiritually and feel spiritual resistance.
- You decide to be more emotionally available, and old wounds reopen.
- You finally confess something, and instead of relief, the house goes quiet.
Like Moses, many of us expect a spiritual promotion to come with spiritual applause. But more often than not, it comes with spiritual opposition.
“Whenever God means to make a man great, He always breaks him in pieces first.” — Charles Spurgeon.
That breaking isn’t punishment. It’s preparation.
The Campfire Is Still Burning
Imagine Moses walking away from Pharaoh’s palace that day, shoulders slumped, heart heavy. He probably questioned if he ever heard God clearly in the first place.
He didn’t know what was next. But God did.
And you? You may be in your own Exodus 5 moment right now.
- Maybe your marriage feels like it’s buckling under the weight.
- Maybe your child is spiritually slipping away, and you’re silently praying.
- Maybe your role as provider feels fragile—bills piling up, confidence running dry.
But here’s what I want to tell you, man to man, dad to dad:
Keep walking. Keep obeying. Don’t mistake the silence for abandonment.
God is building something in you.
In hindsight, he’s doing something in your family that will only make sense. And just like Moses, you’re being prepared for something bigger than yourself.
The Wilderness Is a Set-Up, Not a Setback
Here’s what I love most about Exodus 5—it’s messy, raw, and unfinished.
It doesn’t wrap up with a miracle. There’s no parting of the Red Sea, no dramatic thunder from heaven. It ends with a weary Moses questioning God, and a frustrated people ready to give up.
But that’s exactly why it matters.
Because most of our real life doesn’t look like the highlight reel, it seems like Exodus 5.
When the Story Doesn’t Resolve in One Chapter
Too often, we read the Bible like a movie montage—miracle after miracle, skipping the slow scenes. But Exodus 5 forces us to sit in the tension.
It forces us to wrestle with an uncomfortable truth:
Obedience doesn’t always bring clarity—it often brings a crisis.
And that crisis? It’s not a failure. It’s a setup.
God didn’t bring Moses to Pharaoh to get him humiliated. He brought him there to start a war for freedom. The resistance was the beginning of a breakthrough.
The same is true for us.
Your current struggle may not be a sign you’ve failed—it may be the signal that God is stirring the waters.
From Brick Burden to Breakthrough
Let’s revisit what Pharaoh said when he increased the Israelites’ workload:
“Let there be more work laid upon the men, that they may labour therein…” — Exodus 5:9 (KJV)
In other words: keep them busy so they don’t hope.
That’s exactly how the enemy works. If he can’t steal your faith, he’ll try to drown it in busyness, fatigue, and fear. He’ll try to bury your calling under quotas—just like Pharaoh did with the bricks.
And in 2025? Our Pharaohs are slicker.
- More hours at the office.
- More distractions in your pocket.
- More expectations to meet.
- More mental bricks to stack.
But here’s what the enemy forgets every time: God doesn’t waste wilderness seasons. What feels like a dead-end is often a turning point.
The Setup for Legacy
Exodus 5 doesn’t just teach us about hardship—it reveals the beginning of a legacy.
God is getting ready to lead His people out of bondage. But first, He lets Moses and Israel feel the weight of slavery one more time.
Why?
So that when freedom comes, they never forget what they were saved from.
That’s the same with us.
God may be allowing the pressure right now so that, when deliverance comes, you’ll recognize His hand. You won’t say, “I pulled myself out.” You’ll say, “If it hadn’t been for the Lord…”
“If there be no trial of our faith, there will be no growth in grace.” — Spurgeon.
God doesn’t raise soft leaders. He forges them in the fire.
You’re not just surviving this season. You’re being shaped for something greater.
Your kids need to see that. Not a dad who gets it all right—but a dad who keeps walking when the trail disappears. A dad who gets knocked down and still prays. A dad who hears nothing from heaven and still says, “I will trust Him anyway.”
That’s how legacy is built—in real-time obedience, not polished perfection.
The Final Campfire: Your Call to Action
Let’s pull this all together like you would around a campfire at the end of a long day on the trail.
🔥 Here’s Your Challenge:
- Don’t confuse hard with wrong. If obedience has made life harder, you’re in good company. Keep going.
- Stop listening to the silence like it’s the final word. God’s still writing.
- Show up, especially when you feel like quitting. That’s what your family will remember—not the ease, but the endurance.
Write down one area where obedience has felt like failure. Name it. Pray over it. Then declare out loud:
👉 “This is not the end—it’s the middle of my testimony.”
Because just like Moses, your Exodus 5 moment may be the very ground where legacy starts growing.
