Sundays always remind me of how grateful I am for my church family. Without fail, it’s a community where believers are seeking God and finding Him, experiencing His presence in ways that are remarkable, amazing, inspiring, worthy of celebrating.
I know the faith-stories I encounter there are meant to bolster my belief. But every once in awhile, they have the opposite effect.
Sometimes they make me wonder why I don’t have a similar story to tell.
Today is one of those days. And so I find myself longing to hear from those who haven’t quite made it to the other side yet.
From believers who are on the leg of the journey that happens after the prayer, but before its answer.
The Land of In—Between.
The part that’s between the vexing question and the reassuring response;
between the sigh of fatigue and the comfort of renewal;
between the diagnosis and the cure;
between the seeking and the finding.
Because this Land of In-Between is where I live much of my spiritual life.
And knowing others are nearby provides a solace that is strange but substantial.
It reminds me that I’m not the only one who hasn’t arrived.
It reassures me that my ability to see only part of the whole is how things are supposed to be . . . at least for the moment.
It encourages me that I—that we—are indeed traveling in a bright direction.
So if you find yourself between a cry for help and the relief of rescue, maybe it helps to know that another is at the same spot on her journey.
Maybe we can pray all of us a little further down this road that travels from the
beginnings of a longing to the realization of our Hope.