Held Between Here and There

There is something about being in the air that changes how everything feels.

Homes shrink into patterns.

Roads loosen into lines.

Fields soften into patches of green.

From up here, the worries you carried onto the plane do not vanish.

But they lose some of their grip.

The world widens.

Many of us live pressed close to the ground.

Inside details.

Inside urgency.

Inside the belief that every decision must be solved immediately.

Shrinking thrives in that closeness.

It convinces people that there is no margin.

No altitude.

No room to breathe.

But Christ keeps lifting people into perspective.

He holds them between where they have been and where they are going.

He gives just enough height to see that life is larger than the moment you are trapped inside.

Stopping shrinking sometimes looks like letting yourself be carried for a while.

Trusting the wing beneath you.

Allowing movement even when you are not in control of the route.

There are seasons when transition feels unbearable.

When waiting in the middle triggers panic.

When you cannot see the landing yet.

Jesus knows those skies.

He sits with people between cities.

Between callings.

Between chapters.

He does not abandon them in the air.

If today all you can do is remain in the middle without forcing resolution, that is faith.

If you allow yourself to be supported instead of steering, that is healing.

If you breathe while the ground rearranges below you, that is courage.

You are not suspended in uncertainty.

You are being carried somewhere.