In the in Between

It often feels like we are stuck in a chapter we don’t want to be in, praying for a new one to begin – one with life and hope and health and joy. And it’s there we weep, for our friends, for ourselves, for the brokenness all around us. Do we dare sit in that place and believe a good chapter is coming? Or do we suffer again by letting go of hope and halting all prayers for the impossible?

Even though Jesus knew the Father would purpose His pain, He too asked for the cup to pass from Him. And sometimes the cup passes us. Sometimes we get the miracle we prayed for. And sometimes we don’t. And we see Jesus- He did not get what He prayed for. He had to drink the cup. And though that be true, we must remember: The miracle came, just not in the way or timing He asked.

We say we are a people of the resurrection, a people who believe that death has no power, that the impossible is possible. And if so, if we are those people, I am becoming more and more certain we cannot only believe that once we see it, once we are in the chapter where we are resurrected, once we are in the chapter where we finally get the baby, once we are in the chapter where we see God save our marriage or business or provide the thing we needed.

We have to believe God can resurrect in the chapter of agony. We have to, because it’s the only thing that offers any hope or solace at all.

I often visit my mom’s grave. And I hate it. I hate standing over a slab of grass and staring at a rock that says her name and her date of birth and her date of death. I hate the idea that my sweet mama was suffocated by dirt and I couldn’t do a thing to save her. And the only thing that gives me hope is Jesus Christ. Jesus is the only One who tells me that if I don’t get my miracle in this chapter, I will one day get my miracle. Jesus tells me that the crocuses are true. They look like they died in the dead of winter, but my friend, they rise back up every single spring to say hello. Jesus tells me that the butterfly He made is a fluttering reminder of what is possible. We can change, we can metamorphose, we can move from something lacking all beauty whatsoever to becoming brilliant and magical.

I don’t know what miracle you are begging God for. I do know this, you are just like me. We all are. We are in the in-between, the not yet. We have to be a people who might not be in the resurrection chapter, but we will believe God for it in the weeping one.

Hold onto the power of Jesus Christ, the promises of Jesus Christ, the purposes of Jesus Christ. I hold onto them with you.

P.S. I shared more of this story in my Founder Letter—if you want to receive these before they’re published (and a little more of the story), you can join here.