The Messy Middle

Here’s the thing about readers: we like a nicely tied bow at the end.

I’m not saying all of us are gungho for happily ever after, but I am saying that (within reason) there should be no hanging plot lines, no lingering lack of conclusion, and no unresolved mysteries. This is one of the great joys of picking up a book.

We know that whatever questions the book raises will be answered at the end. We know that no matter how much trauma the author drags us through, there will be resolution. And we know that if our favorite authors leave us on a cliff hanger, it’s because we’re looking forward to a sequel and not because they are going to desert us indefinitely.

But…this isn’t true in real life. In real life, there is a lot of messy middle and no where near as many neatly tied bows. And the truth of this shows up in how we tell the stories of our own lives. Much like writers, many of us would prefer to wait until we can conclude our stories well, with a lesson learned or a goal met or a run-of-the-mill happy ending.

We don’t want to share our stories in the middle because they are uncomfortable. Or they feel like whining. Or we’re worried that people are going to think that our struggles are the end of the story and we don’t want to be judged in such a way.

So we don’t share when we try to begin a new habit (again) and we don’t share when we drag ourselves to therapy and we don’t share when our marriages are struggling and we don’t share when our kids are breaking down and we don’t share when we are stuck in the middle of seasons of unanswered prayers.

And we give ourselves all kinds of excellent reasons why. Reasons like:

• I am not ready to share (this is a legitimate reason)

• This feels very personal and I don’t have anyone safe to share with (also legitimate)

• I don’t want everyone to know if I fail (meh)

• Telling people puts more pressure on me than I’m capable of bearing at this time (sure)

• If I share this, I’ll sound really negative and hopeless (possibly)

• I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be learning from this season and I’d rather not lead someone astray (insert shrugging emoji and grimacing face)

But unfortunately, when we hang on to all of these reasons (again, sometimes really legitimate ones!), what we find is that we face the messy middle alone.

We have no one to pray for us. No one to hold our hands as we walk through the struggle. No one to tell us, “I’ve been there too, and I came out on the other side. You can as well.” And so we come to the end of our very legitimate reasons and realize that we have isolated ourselves on an island where we are not known and, because of that, not supported.

So where is the happy medium for the messy middle?

It looks like vulnerability. It looks like a measured approach to sharing. It looks like finding your safe places, your trusted people.

It doesn’t look like splashing everything on the internet or talking about it with every random stranger you meet while mailing back your Amazon returns. It doesn’t even mean sharing every detail with all your intimate friends.

It might mean saying, “This friend is going to hear about this one specific struggle, and maybe I will talk with a different friend about something else…even if it’s awkward. Even if I’m not sure I feel ready to.” It might mean choosing to share what you can and trusting that your friend won’t press you for details you’re not ready to give yet. It might mean taking a risk and letting someone hold you accountable…or offer you grace.

It is hard to let people in. It’s a risk, every time, to say: this is my mess, and I don’t know how it will be cleaned up—or if it ever will be—but would you be with me in it?

Still there are people who are willing to do just that if we will let them. And people who might really need us in their messy middle if we can first take the risk to let them into ours.

There will always be reasons not to let people in. There will always be the longing for a neatly tied bow at the end of the story—yes, I went through this hard time but look what I learned, look what I got, look who I am now! But when we let those reasons and longings drive our choices, there will also be loneliness, isolation, and the back bracingly heavy burden of holding it all together on our own.

This week, if you’re in your messy middle (and you better believe that I’m in mine), stop waiting for the opportune moment, for the learned lesson, for the perfect After picture, and take a risk: let someone in. There’s a reason God’s most used encouragement to His people is to remind them that He’s with them, that He sees them, that He hears them. This is how we’re wired.

And often, when we let others in, we’re letting God in too.

Let’s stop waiting. We don’t have to walk through these seasons alone.