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Musings from Gravel Hill

When Conviction Feels Like Fog

Published: December 11, 2025 at 03:05 AM

Tags: blog, devotional, conviction, christian-life

There are days when I feel convicted and couldn’t tell you exactly why.

Nothing dramatic has happened. I haven’t crashed and burned in some obvious way. There’s no single conversation I can point to and say, “That’s where it went wrong.” And yet there’s this quiet weight in my heart; like the Lord has gently put His hand on something and said, “This isn’t right,” and I’m squinting at my own life trying to see what He sees, and not quite managing it.

That’s usually when my mind starts working overtime.

It can feel like walking in fog. I know I’m not as close to Him as I could be. I know something in me needs attention. But I don’t always know if it’s a particular sin, a slow drift in my priorities, or a general coldness that has crept in while I wasn’t watching. Then, mixed in with conviction, comes the quieter bite of self–doubt.

I start quietly questioning my own sincerity. I find myself wishing the Lord would just point to one clear thing and say, “There. Deal with that.” Instead, He often seems to work more gently, more slowly, and that’s uncomfortable sometimes.


Letting God Do the Searching

I keep coming back to these verses:

“Search me, O God, and know my heart:
try me, and know my thoughts:
And see if there be any wicked way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.”
— Psalm 139:23–24 (KJV)

There’s a process embedded in those words:

It’s not instant. It’s not me handing God a checklist and asking Him to circle what’s wrong. It’s me learning to sit still under His gaze and trust that He knows exactly what He’s doing in my heart, even when I don’t.

That’s harder than it sounds.

My instinct is to want clarity now. I want a labelled file folder: “Here’s the problem. Fix this, and you’ll feel better.” But the Lord often works more deeply than that. He’s not just adjusting a few behaviours; He’s dealing with attitudes, loyalties, and affections. Those things don’t always surface in a neat, tidy line.


Where the Fog Tends to Gather

When I look honestly, a lot of that “conviction fog” gathers around the same familiar places:

Usually, it isn’t one massive failure. It’s a collection of small, quiet neglects that slowly pull my heart away. And the Lord, in His kindness, refuses to ignore that forever.

Underneath all my confusion and circling thoughts, there’s another steady truth I have to keep coming back to:

The Lord isn’t trying to crush me or confuse me.

Conviction isn’t Him pushing me away; it’s Him drawing me nearer. It isn’t a cold legal notice dropped at my door; it’s the loving care of a Saviour who wants fellowship restored.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins,
and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
— 1 John 1:9 (KJV)

That verse doesn’t say I have to perfectly diagnose everything that’s wrong inside of me. It doesn’t say I need a complete inner inventory before I can come. It simply calls me to agree with God about what He shows me, when He shows it, and to trust His faithfulness more than I trust my own self-understanding.

That’s strangely freeing.

I don’t have to untangle every knot before I come to Him. I don’t have to understand every shade of what I’m feeling. I just need to be honest with Him, and willing for Him to work.


Learning Not to Panic in the Fog

So when that unsettled feeling comes, and I don’t have a neat label for it, I’m slowly learning:

Instead, I’m trying (imperfectly) to come honestly before Him.

Sometimes clarity comes quickly. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes the Lord gently brings one specific attitude, habit, or apology to mind. Other times He simply makes me more aware of my drift and draws me back to Himself step by step.

Either way, the fog doesn’t always lift on my timetable. But even in the uncertainty, there’s something I’m trying to notice more:

Conviction, even when I don’t fully understand it, is a sign that He hasn’t left me alone.

If I felt nothing, cared about nothing, and could drift comfortably away from Him without any inner disturbance, that would be far more worrying.

The very fact that my conscience is stirred, even clumsily, even without precise words, is one more reminder that the Lord is still working, still searching, still leading.

And maybe that’s one of the most important parts of the lesson for me right now:
to trust His heart when I can’t see every step,
to trust His wisdom when my own self-analysis runs in circles,
and to remember that His goal in conviction is always the same, not to push me away, but to bring me closer.