This. This is hard to navigate: the messy middle.

The in-between of, ‘I thought life would look different.’
Or, ‘I thought I would be different.’

Because there is a way that your eyes are open to the scandalous grace you are washed in, over and over again. This life you get to live? Can you even believe it??
              
And yet.

It’s not how you pictured it. Ache shows up in places you thought were going to be springs of abundance. There is a longing for what could have been. But just wasn’t.

And your soul is caught up. Levitating. Tear-stained Bibles with gratitude and ache.
With praise and desperation.
With deep-seated joy and hopeless despair.  
One testimony to the grace upon grace. And one testimony of what once was and now isn’t.

Ever found yourself here? In this middle of, ‘What kind of grace is this?’ and yet, ‘Pain springing up from unexpected places’. How do you honor the grace and lament at the same time? How do you sing praises while also bend-over whispering, ‘Lord, I don’t know how to keep going’?!

Perhaps like this.

You read about Jesus’ mother and brothers and try to open your mind’s eye to their messy middle. Their in-between of being dismissed when they’re waiting outside to talk to Jesus. But the crowd is so big, they can’t make their way in.  

And when finally, Jesus is told they are looking for him, they hear him say, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” He points to his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother, and sister and mother.’
              
Ouch. It doesn’t feel good to be unseen, especially when you lack the perspective of what Jesus was alluding to. Their messy middle was about to warp in ways they could not have imagined. They would watch Him walk a path that pierced their own soul.

Mary herself carried weight she only knew the burden of. From the moments she cherished and pondered in her heart, chiseled into her own soul, to the nightmare of witnessing her child be tied to a cross, torn-skin and pierced-side. Their in-between of God carrying out the greatest love story ever told had valleys of trauma and pain. It was praise and desperation. With deep-seated joy and hopeless despair.

It turns out that we can be right in the middle of a masterplan, exactly where we are supposed to be and dance the two-step dance of grace and pain.

And you realize that the enemy is a liar, and that some lies sleep dormant in the silent assumptions upon which we built our lives – those pierce in ways that can break your soul. Lies, like this: If you are living instruments in God’s story, there will be no scars.

You can be exactly where you need to be. You can be witnessing your own story of redemption, of offensive grace, of scandalous love, and still be caught up in the in-between of grace and pain. Because this is not the ‘new earth’. This is not the first, stain-free earth either. This, is the in-between one.
              
Of course, now? Now if we could ask them, his brothers and mother, what it was like to be in the messy middle of being the very flesh family of God on earth? I have a feeling they would say, ‘What an honor. That God allowed us to be That close to witnessing the Word take on flesh. What an honor.’

But what you hear echoing in your own soul, is Jesus asking you, ‘Who is my brother and my mother and my sister?’ And your own soul caught up in the messy middle, right in the middle of sharing in the suffering echoes, ‘What an honor, Lord. What an honor.’