A few months ago I did something I almost never do. I stopped reading a book in the middle. It was a good book, one that I hope to get back to soon. But, I set the book aside because I had a significant amount of reading to do for work and that felt more important than my novel. Then someone lent me some books, which I wanted to read and return, and now 4 months have passed and the book is still laying unfinished by the side of my bed.
I was thinking about the book the other day in the car, and wanting to know how the story ends. I found myself thinking of the characters, stuck there, hanging in limbo in my mind. As far as I know, none of their stories ever resolve, they just stay there in the middle, problems and drama all set out with no resolution in sight.
I hate the middle. The middle seat is always the worst seat in the car. My sister claims it’s the hardest being the middle child. I guess the middle part of an Oreo is pretty good, but you can always counter that bright spot by remembering apple cores and peach pits. The middle is usually not that great.
And the middle of problems can be the worst. You can feel like those characters in my unfinished book, just hanging there, stuck in a never-ending trial. Or maybe things are moving, but it seems like they are just getting worse and worse. The middle of a rough season comes before you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, when all you can see is dark. The happy glow from easier times has faded and there seems to be no hope ahead. The middle is a very, very hard place to be.
When we are in the middle, we need a little perspective and a little hope. We need to remember that we are in the middle, that this trial and this season will not last forever. What we are experiencing now is just a chapter in our story, not the end. There are times when searching for perspective can lead us a few hours, days, or weeks down the road. I can remember times in my overdramatic adolescence when my mom would ask me if I would remember this particular disappointment, irritant, or struggle in a few days, weeks, months, or years. At that stage in life I kind of enjoyed being melodramatic, so I found the question rather irritating. However, I think that it’s a good indicator of my mother’s wisdom that I can clearly remember her question but not the problems that prompted it.
Yet there are many, many times when this kind of perspective-taking doesn’t help. Our problems and pain and struggles are things we will definitely remember years down the road. At these times we need to remember that though the pain and heartache may still matter months and years down the road, we do not yet know the meaning that they will hold for us, or what beauty may grow from them. We have not yet experienced the work of time, as the passage of days and weeks smooths down the sharpness and intensity of pain. We may need to mourn, and the mourning may last for awhile. At these times, our perspective taking is mostly about realizing that we are not alone in the middle. We can cling to the promise that the One who holds the beginning, middle, and end, holds us too (Colossians 1:17). We can cling to the promise that He will never leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5). We are not alone in the middle.
My grandfather is a very wise man, and is one of the most gifted preachers I’ve ever heard from the pulpit. I can clearly remember a portion of a sermon where he spoke about Psalm 115:150, “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” He reminded us that when we are walking down a dark path and holding up a lamp, the light usually only shows us our next step. We take that step, and the light shines on the next step, and then the next. Our whole path is not usually illuminated by a single lamp or flashlight. We keep moving forward in faith, trusting the light that shines on each step we take. When we are in the middle and cannot see the path in front of us, we can trust that He will guide and direct us with every step.
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