Zwischen

 In the birth world there is an obvious known time of waiting. I’ve heard of several midwives say that we ought to have an English word similar to the German word ‘zwischen‘, but we just don’t. Don’t ask me how to say it. I should phone a friend. As best as I can understand it it means “the in between”, a going from one place to another. On your way, but not yet there. As in a mother that has passed her due date, but still awaiting birth. Man, do midwives go through this in a very different but similar fashion. At times I find myself asking every night, will it be tonight? Maybe tonight. Okay, will I make it through the night, tonight? Turn on repeat. Ha. It can be a safe, harmonious, lovely time. Let’s be real, though. Often it’s trying, frustrating, unwanted. Sound familiar? 

I don’t have to tell you that there’s a whole lot of zwischen moments in life. That going from one thing to the next, but waiting. Almost there, but not yet. Trying to actively wait? Intentionally wait? Most the time looking like impatiently waiting. Again, as a midwife, it’s common for me to say, that babies usually come when they’re supposed to, and that’s hard to accept. We want to somehow speed up that process.  C.S. Lewis has a quote that has rung deep within my heart for years: “I am sure that God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait.” Shoot. I was reading in Genesis this morning, and realized that Joseph was in prison for two full years before the pharaoh brought him back out, to then go on to essentially rule Egypt. Two years. In a dungeon. That looks hopeless, that looks like despair. That looks like being overlooked. And yet. Yet there was a timing to be accomplished. A time where he was needed in that position even more. I feel that.

I’ve just passed the six month mark in my new location. A funny time where the familiar starts becoming a thing of the past and the current becomes more the reality. A time when this starts feeling more like home, and the prior more like a place I visit. I feel like an indigenous person- “I am going to my people.” Because that seems like the only appropriate thing to say now. There’s a whole lot of waiting still occurring. I still feel a little lost. I still feel like, do I really know what I’m doing with life? Building community, trying my hardest to place roots, know my way around(still failing), missing and wanting ministry outlets, trying to plan for a future that I don’t have a plan for. And being okay sitting still. I went on a very wet, slushy, garbed in full rain gear from head to toe, kinda hike last week. I sat in the snow at the top of this hill looking out over the surrounding hills and my little cabin home nestled amongst it all. This is where I live. As the clouds started coming in, more and more, my view was obscured. Gently I heard it, as if whispered, when the view is obscured, it’s still there. Friends it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still there. When I can’t see it, it’s there. When I don’t know how long it’ll be, it’s there. He charts the way before us. It doesn’t change His character. Our circumstances don’t change His character. 

If I could use one phrase to use for this season, it would be OPEN-HANDED. I come open handed. I don’t get to bring my open hands, plus. I don’t get to come with open hands, but. It’s open-handed and nothing. It’s open-handed- and accepting everything He has to offer. It’s open-handed and waiting for the absolute best He has to offer. To posture myself to accept His openhanded, generous grace. When we come to Jesus  I think we often has this view that the hardest part about following Jesus is having nothing. We’ve got it wrong. In that place, we don’t have to let go of anything to accept it, to have room in your hands for it. On our way, zwischen. He walks with us on our way. 

Friend, you’re on your way. You’re dreams, your hopes, your losses, your despair, they may be there. It might feel like your life is shrouded. But the view is still there. That fog in the hills, like mystery to your heart. I want to breath it in. The beauty of embrace. The significance of acceptance. Making peace with stillness. Finding joy in the waiting.