Ever been stuck in the middle? You ever been torn between where you were and where you’re going? Or maybe you felt like you left something behind but haven’t quite arrived anywhere new yet?
Maybe you obeyed God and still ended up in a storm? Or, you knew what God promised… but not how He’ll get you there? A season where your prayers felt unanswered and your purpose felt unclear? You wrestled with God and wondered if you’d come out the same?
Maybe you stood at a crossroads, knowing you can’t go back, but terrified to move forward? Like your faith was real—but so was your fear?
The middle is an interesting place, ain’t it? It’s an in-between place kind of like the desert between Egypt and the Promised Land. It’s a waiting room between promise and fulfillment. It’s the night before morning comes. The middle is not where we start, but it surely is not where we hope to end up. Many times though, the middle is where the real work happens.
I’m reminded of Jacob in Genesis 32. Jacob returns home after years away, afraid of facing his brother Esau whom he had deceived. In his fear, Jacob wrestles all night with a man who is God and refuses to let go until he receives a blessing. By morning, Jacob walks away limping, but with a new name—Israel—signifying that his struggle led to transformation. See, Jacob had left one crisis and was headed toward another. He was in between identity and destiny. But that night, he wrestled with God, and his unrest led to transformation. His limping gave way to his blessing.
Another uncomfortable middle is Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane in Matthew 26. The Upper Room had already happened—the bread broken, the feet washed, the betrayal set in motion. And, the Cross was coming—the weight of sin, the silence of heaven, the nails and the tomb. But in between was Gethsemane: a place of crushing.
It was here that Jesus knelt in the dark, fully God yet fully human, feeling the full weight of what obedience would cost. He wasn’t wrestling with whether the Father was good—He was wrestling with how far obedience would take Him. And in that garden, He sweat drops of blood. Not from fear but surrender.
See, it’s the middle. It’s messy. It’s murky. But, it’s in the middle that God does His deepest work. There’s stripping, searching, and surrender. The middle is where He reveals what we really believe—when the emotions fade and the miracles haven’t yet come. The middle is where idols are exposed, motives are refined, and false identities are stripped away. It’s where faith grows roots and where surrender becomes survival. It’s where we learn that God is not just the God of the mountaintop or the breakthrough, but the God of the long “in-between.”
So if you find yourself in the uncomfortable middle, take heart. My friend, this is not the place God has abandoned you; it’s the place He’s forming you. His hands are at work in the unseen, shaping what you cannot yet see. Let Him strip away what you thought would sustain you. Let Him search the corners of your heart. And as you tremble in the tension, draw near and whisper, “Not my will, Lord, but Yours.”
So Will I 