The song I posted two days ago begins with the truly heartbreaking lament, "I can't see You anymore." I understand about those dark, valley experiences where God seems to be a million miles away. If this fog goes on for years at a time, Christians do sometimes let go.
I'm not in a fog. I can see the Lord clearly. I'm painfully aware of how these fogs often descend, so I take preventative measures to try to ensure that such a fog never again descends on me. I make sure to meet with him face-to-face and heart-to-heart every day, for as long a time as possible, allowing Him to speak to me through His word, to challenge and change me as He sees fit. I also make sure He hears it from my lips every day that I'm still putty in His hands. Of course, this doesn't make me invulnerable. Quite the opposite. Even Jesus struggled with spiritual vulnerability. Why else would He have addressed his friend Simon Peter as "Satan" when Peter declared that Jesus would never have to be suffer and be killed? Jesus had to use preventative measures, too, to make sure He didn't fall into, well -- "normal" human thinking, which would have made His own life the focus rather than God's plans. This was a danger for Him, and it's a danger for all of us who are His disciples.
So, no, I'm not in a fog, and am not seriously worried right now that I might let go and go back to my normal human way of thinking. It could happen, but I pray it won't.
I do, however, need to hear God's shout of victory over my life. I need to see His faithfulness at work in everything I've brought before Him. I'm standing on Him -- not just on His promises, but on Him. I need Him to reveal His path to me, then to provide all that I need day-by-day to carry out what He gives me to do. It's rather simple, really. I'm just coming before Him like a little kid, expecting Him to be who He is. I've already seen it begin. I may get bumped around, and some days (or weeks, months, even years), it may look like nothing is happening, or that we've turned around and headed backwards. But He's still with me.
I know He's still with me. His arms are wrapped around me from the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep, and every moment in between. He's promised me, among other things, Psalm 34:7, but only because I've surrendered all my idols to Him, showing Him that I fear (revere) Him. OK, I also fear Him in the other sense -- the way one fears a fierce lion -- but I know that I'm His cub, not His prey or His enemy, so I can rest in His presence.
So despite my many open laments (have I mentioned David is sort of my soulmate?), I rejoice greatly in Him. I lift my heart to Him, my King, and praise His name in the valleys and on top of the mountains. HE is my reason to sing. He alone is my reason to sing, whatever He chooses for me.