The time in between is the hardest. Death has had it's day.
Darkness has seemingly overcome.
And so we wait.
We wait for the pin prick of dawn's light to pierce the overwhelming black that has tried to consume our hope.
We wait for joy to jump over our sadness.
We wait for life to bloom where death feels so firmly planted.
This day that doesn't have a name because we can't- and they couldn't-see with their eyes what God was doing, the power He has already released for the victory.
So we trudge through the in-between.
We wonder where God is, as if He's showing up late.
Didn't Mary and Martha think the same thing?
But Lazarus walked out of that grave.
The victory came.
And another Mary walked early that third morning to try to cover up the stench of death that filled the nostrils of her spirit and mind- expecting to still find death where she had prayed for life.
They had forgotten hope.
They had welcomed despair and ushered hope right out of the waiting room.
Because the in-between convinces you it is a destination, when in reality, it is only a path.
Morning will come.
And when it does, darkness has no say...it MUST flee.
There is no competition.
Light. Always. Wins.
And in that moment, the in-between is outed as the the bridge from here to there, the steps on the journey, a room to pass through- a place to be thankful for but never where you set up camp.
You keep moving forward.
And morning WILL come.
Wise. Strong. Courageous. Revealing. Empowering.
...is the morning.
Because ***spoiler alert ***