Middle Missives

Dear Middle-Friends,

This sculpture is me.

And that’s a metaphor. I’m not really under that canvas.

This sculpture might be you also. Hang in there with me, and I will explain.

I’m 53, and still “in the middle”. I might be more “in the middle” than any 35-to-40-year-old could ever be. Without going into all the ways I find myself betwixt and between, let me stop right there to acknowledge that you’re probably in the middle, too.

You’re there, too. You’re in the middle. I know. I know. Sit down, and let me get you a cup of hot tea or some coffee.

The Lord of all creation is the sculptor, I am the clay. In this season, I have a sense that He is up to something bigger (and far more beautiful) than I know. One characteristic of “the middle”, is that what is becoming is not yet finished, but it is suddenly taking on real form. The beauty of what will be the finished piece is taking on a look that is more and more distinct. In fact, it is becoming so distinct, the artist starts covering up the work when she or he finishes for the day, or even just breaks for lunch (as this artist in Bellagio, Italy had done).

The cover-up isn’t because what is being made is unsavory or unimportant. Just the opposite. The more significant a particular piece is felt to be, the more careful the artist is to shield both it, and the process of forming it, from prying eyes. You won’t find this process in a “how to” video on any platform, anywhere.

Fact: the canvas covers this work because what has been the middle is looking more and more like the finish. The artist does not want to give away trade secrets, nor does she want the loveliness of what she is making to be seen before she’s ready to reveal.

Fact: the outside world can forget about getting a glimpse of this. There will be not one single aspect of its process, contours, concept, or outcome copied before the unveiling, thankyouverymuch. (Then, let the spinoffs begin, but that is another metaphor.)

Fact: the beautiful woman under this canvas is covered up, even to herself.

“Beloved,

now we are the (daughters) of God, and it does not yet appear what we shall be…”

1 John 3:2

If your life seems indistinct, especially after a season of feeling quite defined, you might be “in process”. If your outcome seems heavily veiled even to you, yet you are feeling “worked over”, and have been working very hard as well - you, dear one, might be closer to being revealed than ever before. And maybe you are becoming something bigger and more beautiful than what you have seen others talking about, blogging about, launching, ‘gramming, YouTube’ing, Facebooking, TikTok’ing, or newslettering in the same space, lane, or network, all around you. If you don’t find the equivalent of yourself on Kajabi or YouTube, rejoice! It could be that your finished form is known to your Maker as being for something different and special.

Just you wait and see.

Love,

Sheila

PS. A “missive” means a letter. It’s just a letter from me to you.

Mercy In The Middle

“LORD, I have heard of your fame. I stand in awe of your deeds, LORD. Renew your work “in the middle” of the years. “In the middle” of the years make it known. In wrath, you remember mercy.” Habakkuk 3:2

Mercy:

Compassion and

forbearance willingly

shown towards an

offender

All of earth-time is middle-time.

Human history is a hyphen in the text of eternity. It is a mere incident in the context of a God who exists outside of time. Kings and countries are like the mist of an Appalachian mountain: dropping in at dawning, and gone in a glance.

Current events on this world’s stage are like today’s palette of pigments. They exist for this time, for this painting, and will dry up and be scraped away to make a place for the next color story.

I, however, am the daughter of both time and of forever. My time-bound-life began in a gasping second, and will end the same way. My forever-free-life began from the moment of my regeneration. I don’t know how it happened, this miracle that was the awakening of my spirit inside this middle-space. All I know, is at the mere mention of the name of Jesus, my eternal spirit awoke to begin exploration of my life as His idea. My life, as an object of His affection! My very being, as a vessel of His mercy poured out day by day, offense after offense. And oh, how I have offended.

Yet it is my destiny to be loved more than galaxies of stars.

Everything He has ever done for anyone at any time, He is willing to do it again for me.

Every deed He has ever performed to become The Famous One, He is willing to do it again, to show Himself strong on behalf of my generation.

I’ve heard it said that every testimony and every “Amen” is just another way of saying, “We know You will do it again, God!”

Do it again, Papa! Do it again!

Right here, in my middle. In the middle.