Caught in the middle with you

And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost, and so are the skins; but one puts new wine into fresh wineskins. (Mark 2:22)

Liminal space, it is sometimes called, this time out of time when you are neither where you were nor where you might, could and (one hopes) will be, once body and soul find their way from the no-longer to the not-yet.

Faith is needed, of course. It always is, but perhaps more so amid transition because so little is seen, and the restlessness within is hard to define. Is it hunger for rest in the peace of God where love fills the heart, or is this restiveness the Spirit’s agitation, spurring the heart to new ways of being?

Ancient wisdom suggests it is Spirit’s way of saying, Keep going. Keeping looking. Keep your heart open, and don’t try fit your life into former patterns that once fit like a glove. They no longer do.

The happy implication here is the promise of more. I have more for you, the Spirit says. Don’t imagine I am done with you. Springs of water will bubble up in your life, and I will turn them into the wine of gladness, joy you have not yet tasted.

This is your word to me this day, a word for any, I suppose, who are caught in liminal space, eager to know what will come ... now that what-was is no longer.

You are in this space with me, dearest Love, and you bid me to wait and watch and know ...  all is well and will be, for there is no space where you, my Lord, are not.

And this is enough for me.

David L. Miller