I’m starting this blog post standing in the terminal of the Orlando-Sanford International Airport as I wait to board the flight that will take me back home.
Back to the city I love.
To the church I love.
To the people I love
As it’s a late flight, I’ll probably end this post sometime later in that place, more than likely holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee sitting at my own desk in my own house.
Bella will be curled up in her dog bed on the floor next to me and I … will … breathe and reflect on what God deposited in me over the last two and a half days at my first Exponential Conference.
But the number one thing I’m taking away from my time with 5,500 passionate church leaders and followers of Jesus is that there is more. Every time I come to a gathering like this, I sense it: that unrelenting burden for everything that God has for me, the church I lead, and the city I love.
And yet, at the same time that I that I’m trying to swallow that lump in my throat that brings tears to my eyes, I can’t help but feel completely content in what God has already given me.
It’s a wild place to be and I think it’s the place we were made for. Life and love seem to happen in the middle of where we are and where we aren’t. Of what we did and what we’ll do. Of who we are and who we’re becoming.
[Tweet “Life and love seem to happen in the middle of where we are and where we aren’t. Of what we did and what we’ll do. Of who we are and who we’re becoming.”]It’s hard to be in the middle. I felt that difficulty standing in the middle of the crowd singing at the top of our lungs to the closing song and knowing that God was pleased with me where I was and yet pulling me to where I wasn’t. Not necessarily geographically (we’re not going anywhere) as much as relationally. Wanting to lead a movement that reflects its city means never being done until that happens. It means that a lot of my time as a leader of an amazing family of Jesus followers is spent in the middle of wanting more and needing less.
I am 100% satisfied in Jesus and 100% stirred by Jesus. I feel content and discontent. Somewhat relaxed but never quite comfortable.
As if I needed any reminders about how difficult the middle can be, God allowed me to sit in the middle seat on the return flight (thankfully between 2 great people, but still). Then He used a broken fuel pump that caused us to sit in the plane almost twice as long as expected to teach me that He’ll keep me in the middle as long as it takes to finish the work.
And then, when we finally took off (in the same plane that 30 minutes earlier had a broken fuel pump – now that’ll grow your faith!), God met me in the middle and taught me something that I bet you need to know, too.
Right there on Allegiant Flight 2138 in Row 24 and smack dab in the middle of seat A and seat C, He told me, “You may be in the middle, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t on the move.”
[Tweet “You may be in the middle, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t on the move.”]Sure the middle is uncomfortable and hard and frustrating and cramped. It’s all of that and more. But it isn’t stuck.
God moves us while we’re in the middle, and that’s something we never have to wrestle with.
