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.

I'm Busy

I’m busy. I mean, I am so busy.

Not in an uppity, “I-have-no-time-for-you” kind of way. Although, to be honest, I don’t have an open day for lunch for at least the next month.

I’m busy crafting a well-considered middle.

It looks like I’m painting, and I am. But there is so much more to a painting than the pigments and canvas. There is so much more to a painting than even the talent of the artist. The deep processing that happens in the soul of an artist, I believe the thoughts and considerations and emotion that an artist feels her way through while painting, can become infused into the finished work of art.

There was a time in my life when heart break looked like something. It looked like me sleeping late, or it looked like no fresh flowers in the house.

At the present time, deep joy and healthy processing looks like something entirely different. It looks like me with a tube of Titanium white standing in front of a canvas. And what comes out of my brush is first showing me who I am, as God sees me.

We humans are not born to be multi taskers. But we are made to be dual processors. We can consider the lilies while we wash dishes. We can silently pray for a friend while we do data entry at a computer. I can be crafting a well-considered middle while I paint. In fact, if I do not paint, my life would not be nearly as well considered as it is. For example: I can plan and dream what my next hospitality gathering could be, while I paint a dinner plate dahlia on a 36x48” canvas.

It’s going to be simple and special. “The art, or your next gathering at your house?” I hear you asking me.

“Both.”

That would have to be my answer. Because my consideration of the one is spilling over into the planning of the other, which comes back into the doing of the first again. Back and forth, through this dialogue, this dual processing called art, I end up crafting the parts of my life that have nothing to do with paint brushes or acrylics or linseed oil.

When an artist does her art, when she puts herself into and through the process of creating from her inner being, with no guarantee as to whether it will be received or rejected - she might also be crafting a well-considered middle, by simply, resolutely, picking up the paintbrush and dipping it into the paint.

She could have been a teller at the bank. She could have stayed with her day job. She could have decided to go the route of uplines and downlines and work every day to network her net worth. But no. A believing career-art artist has chosen to buck the system, and she has chosen to dual process: to sit at the feet of Jesus while she also sketches, or writes haikus, or paints her interpretation of what He is saying to her life. And if it is true that she has chosen that good part, and it shall not be taken away from her - she is the person who hurting people are going to need to hear from in days ahead.