“My corrupt soul wanted to run, fast and hard, away from the hurt that swirled on all sides. I knew in my mind that I was born again – destined for a new, eternal, no-tears-in-heaven kind of life. I knew my salvation was a direct gift from the blood and sacrifice of the spotless, uncorrupted, unstained, untainted blood of the Lamb of God; but in the darkness of night, I couldn’t help but wonder how that knowledge was supposed to help me in the present moment. I could concoct a whole host of scenarios in which the afterlife would be the most amazing, fulfilling, Guinness Book of World Records worthy, mind-blowing, God-honoring experiences where I (Lord willing) would be reunited with lost loved ones. But what about life on this side of the veil, the one we’re all living right now?”
{Megan Nilsen in “A Beautiful Exchange“}
I’ve met people and seen circumstances that make me wonder how I’m supposed to reconcile this life with the eternal life that’s coming. Why wouldn’t someone choose hope when it was right in front of them? Maybe they couldn’t see out of their own despair. Maybe they had been burned by hope before.
I get it because sometimes I feel stuck in the middle.
With Easter coming in a few days, this middle place has been on my mind, but, more importantly, so has hope.
Sometimes we skip over what happened leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion and what his death was like because we want to get to the glorious end. We know he rose again and lives forever. But it wasn’t pretty getting there. There was blood and meanness and weakness and physical pain. But there also was endurance and hope.
After being whipped and insulted, Jesus hung on a cross in the middle of two criminals. He died in the middle of day.
The middle matters.
Even his resurrection comes in the middle of the story. While the stone being rolled away is certainly the highlight, it’s not the end.
The middle matters.
How we got to where we are matters, but God doesn’t want us to stay there because the best is yet to come.
The middle matters because of the future we are promised. {Tweet that.} That future includes an inheritance we share with Christ because are adopted into God’s family. We are children of God, made new (2 Corinthians 5:17) and dearly loved (Colossians 3:12).
Maybe you love where you are and who you’re with, like I do. But maybe you’re waiting for whatever you’re dreaming of next, longing for circumstances to change. I’ve been there too.
Tears and pain and endurance and hope are probably part of your middle too. I know they have been mine. Maybe you see God moving. Or maybe you believe God is moving but you’re waiting for evidence.
Wherever you are, this is the middle of the whole story. This is the week to remember Jesus’ sacrifice and celebrate his resurrection because that’s why the middle matters. The redemption and resurrection and celebration only are possible because of the hurt and betrayal and pain that happened first.
This is the last post in the Meet Me in the Middle Project. Britta LaFont challenged me during Lent to slow down and notice the pieces of life I bypass in a rush. Find all the details about the Meet Me in the Middle Project here. {You can read all my preview posts about the middle, if you’re new here.}
#ThreeWordWednesday friends, I’d love for you join in Meet Me in the Middle by linking up there and here, but the weekly #ThreeWordWednesday link up is open as usual even if you’re not participating in this Lenten project. I’m always so glad y’all are here.
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“Peace in the Process: How Adoption Built My Faith & My Family” is available on Amazon. Like me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, peek into my life on Instagram, or follow 152 Insights at Bloglovin’.
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