The Land Between

The number of times (within the last three weeks) that I've heard messages and been led to the passages in the Bible on the Israelites in the desert of Sinai isn't coincidental.  God's showing me something: it's time to start my journey out of the desert, but there are a few things I still need to learn and to pack up before we can go.

A marathon is a great example of stamina and determination.  As a highly disciplined person myself, I figured all I needed to do was set some goals, go on my runs, and the marathon would just happen.  I haven't run the marathon yet, in fact, I'm in the middle of my training plan.  And I'm tired, and burdened, and incredibly unmotivated to continue on.  Life is a lot the same way.  I'm past the exciting beginnings right now, and the end is nowhere in sight.  I'm lost in "the middle" and I'm quickly, if not already, running out of steam.

I don't think I've ever heard a better description of "the middle" than Shauna Niequist, in her book Bittersweet:

"There is nothing worse than the middle.  At the beginning, you have a little arrogance, loads of buoyancy.  The journey, whatever it is, looks beautiful and bright, and you are filled with resolve and silver strength, sure that whatever the future holds, you will face it with optimism and chutzpah.  It's like the first day of school, and you're wearing the outfit you laid out last night, backpack full of perfectly sharpened yellow pencils.

And the end is beautiful.  You are wiser, better, deeper.  You know things you didn't previously know, you've shed things you previously clung to.  The end is revelation, resolution, a soft place to land.

But oh, the middle.  I hate the middle.  The middle is the fog, the exhaustion, the loneliness, the daily battle against despair and the nagging dear that tomorrow will be just like today, only you'll be wearier and less able to defend yourself against it.  The middle is the lonely place, when you can't find words to say how deeply empty you feel, when you try to connect but you feel like thick glass is separating you from the rest of the world, isolating and deadening everything."

The land between, the middle, the place where prayer doesn't seem to do anything.  It's a land fertile for complaints and emotional meltdown, but it's also fertile for God's provision and transformational growth.

I heard a fantastic message by Jeff Manion last week called The Land Between while I was at the Leadership Summit.  He was speaking on the Israelites and their journey in the desert of Sinai. It's a message that made an indelible impact on me, and while I haven't read Jeff's new book The Land Between, it's already in my Amazon cart.

God had a plan for the Israelites, but they weren't ready for the Promised Land yet--they weren't ready to be God's people.  So God gave them time in the desert to learn how to trust and obey.  Isn't that just what the Land Between is for?  A perfect opportunity to see past the pain of "the middle" and learn how to trust God right where we are?  It's where we learn how to pray and how to depend.  Where choices of the heart need to be made that will determine who we will be outside of the desert.

The space in your life that you most resent is the place where God is doing his richest and deepest work.  Painful and messy, honest and raw, but also beautiful and redemptive work is being done right there.  Instinctively you want to run away, but you shouldn't.  Change isn't an automatic process, and time does not heal all wounds. 

I'm still in the desert, learning how to trust.  If I can't trust here, then how will I trust there?  Where are you?  Are you journeying through the Land Between too?

I'll end this post with the benediction that Jeff gave at the end of his message, a beautiful sentiment of hope for those in the desert.

May God bless you in the Land Between. May you guard your heart. May trust grow. May our gracious God who knows what we need provides it when we need it… may He restore our laughter, increase our joy and may we find Him present and good.