Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the middle.
Not the beginning.
Not the finish line.
The middle.
That strange place where so much of life is actually lived, yet so little of it is celebrated.
Most of us love beginnings. Beginnings are exciting. They are full of possibility, hope, vision, and anticipation. Endings have their own kind of beauty too. Finished projects. Accomplished goals. Completed healing journeys. The closing of old chapters. There is something satisfying about arriving somewhere and being able to look back at the road behind us.
The middle is different.
The middle rarely feels glamorous.
The middle often feels messy.
Progress exists, but completion remains out of reach. Growth is happening, but clarity is still developing. Movement is occurring, yet the final destination remains hidden somewhere beyond the horizon.
And if I am being honest, I think many of us spend far too much time judging ourselves for being in the middle.
Recently I found myself reflecting on just how many things are simultaneously unfolding in this season of life. Books are launching. New projects are being built. Home renovations continue moving forward. Wedding plans are becoming more real. Family continues growing. New opportunities are appearing. Long-held prayers are beginning to take shape.
Yet none of those things feel finished.
Not one.
Everything feels wonderfully, beautifully, frustratingly unfinished.
For years I viewed unfinished as a problem to solve.
Now I am beginning to see it differently.
What if the middle is not a problem?
What if the middle is actually sacred?
That thought has stayed with me for days.
Somewhere along the way, many of us adopted the belief that life happens when we finally arrive. Happiness will come once the house is complete. Peace will appear once the finances improve. Confidence will show up after the weight is lost. Fulfillment will emerge when the business succeeds. Joy will finally arrive when the relationship is secure, the healing is finished, or the circumstances become easier.
Meanwhile, life keeps unfolding right now.
Not later.
Not after.
Now.
Looking back, some of the most meaningful moments of my life happened in the middle of things. Raising children never felt finished. Healing from heartbreak never felt finished. Learning boundaries never felt finished. Building a business never felt finished. Writing books certainly never feels finished.
Even faith itself unfolds in layers.
One of the themes I explore throughout The Hippie Christian is the idea that God rarely reveals the entire path at once. Light is usually given for the next step, not the next hundred. Growth unfolds gradually. Wisdom deepens through experience. Discernment strengthens through practice. Trust develops through repetition. Rarely do we receive a complete blueprint before beginning the journey.
Faith requires movement before certainty.
That reality can be uncomfortable for those of us who prefer control.
It certainly has been for me.
Scripture reminds us in Psalm 119:105, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”
A lamp.
Not a stadium light.
Not a floodlight illuminating the next ten years.
A lamp.
Enough illumination for the next step.
Enough clarity for today’s assignment.
Enough wisdom for the present moment.
That feels incredibly relevant right now.
Many of us are carrying pressure that does not belong to today. We are attempting to solve future problems, manage future outcomes, and control future circumstances while simultaneously navigating the responsibilities already sitting in front of us. Anxiety often thrives in imagined futures while peace tends to exist in present realities.
The middle invites us back into the present.
Perhaps that is why it feels so uncomfortable.
Presence requires surrender.
Control demands certainty.
Those two rarely coexist.
Paulo Coelho wrote, “If you are brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.”
Most people focus on the goodbye and the hello.
Personally, I have become fascinated by the space in between.
The waiting.
The becoming.
The uncertainty.
The middle.
That is where character develops. That is where humility grows. That is where resilience forms. That is where wisdom accumulates. That is where identity becomes anchored in something deeper than achievement.
Far too often we rush through seasons that are actually shaping us.
Pressure teaches things comfort never could.
Responsibility develops capacities ease never demands.
Uncertainty strengthens trust in ways certainty never requires.
Looking back, every meaningful chapter of my life has been built in the middle. Every lesson worth learning emerged through process rather than arrival. Every significant transformation unfolded through repetition, patience, setbacks, growth, and persistence.
Rarely did anything important happen overnight.
Brené Brown once wrote, “We don’t have to do all of it alone. We were never meant to.”
That quote feels important because the middle can sometimes feel lonely. Progress often looks invisible while it is happening. Growth can feel discouraging when measured against perfection. Comparison loves to convince us that everyone else has arrived while we remain stuck.
Experience has taught me otherwise.
The longer I live, the more I realize that every meaningful part of life exists within some form of becoming. Marriage is never fully finished. Families continue evolving. Businesses grow, adapt, and reinvent themselves. Healing unfolds in layers. Faith deepens through seasons. Dreams expand the moment we reach them. Beneath all of it sits the same reality: none of us ever truly arrive. We continue learning, growing, stretching, and discovering new parts of ourselves throughout our lives.
Perhaps that is the invitation hidden within the middle. Rather than treating it as a temporary inconvenience standing between us and the life we want, we begin recognizing that much of life is happening there. Growth often occurs beneath the surface long before visible results appear. Wisdom develops quietly. Character forms through repetition. Trust deepens through uncertainty. Some of God’s most meaningful work takes place while we are busy wishing we were further ahead.
Personally, I am beginning to believe the middle deserves far more reverence than we give it. Most of our story is written there. Faith becomes real there. Purpose takes shape there. Identity strengthens there. The unfinished spaces we spend so much time trying to escape may actually be the very places where we are becoming who we were created to be.
And perhaps that is sacred too.
Where in life do you currently find yourself?
At the beginning of something?
In the middle of something?
Or standing at the end of a chapter that’s ready to close?
What is one area of your life that is still unfolding, even if you can’t fully see where it’s leading yet?
Share below. Some of the most powerful insights always show up in these conversations.
And if this resonated, share it. Someone may need the reminder that unfinished does not mean behind, broken, or failing. Sometimes it simply means becoming.
As always loving and praying for you and our world,
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Aleksei Zhivilov On Unsplash
