When the earth’s turned, unwilling, un-wanting;
when we ourselves are pushed up from beneath,
struggling to grasp anything that will hold.
When we are found on the bathroom floor weeping
or when we face the waterfall of unanswered prayers.
When the cries of our beloved one’s ring our to meet silence,
we question this darkness in-between.
We try to pull together an all powerful God
and the think black cloak of suffering.
We shout through the broken voice of tears,
”Where are you?”
And when our cries are met with echos of our own voice
we collapse amid the tepid promises believed in.
This darkness in-between.
The days where resurrection seems impossible and all hope is lost.
Why, O God, have you forsaken me?
The story we seem to live is one from life to death.
And yes, as Christians, the stroy we know is one of death to life.
The darkness is real.
The stories are real.
How then, do we respond to the in-between?
Our feet are standing in a pool of tears that are not our own but have been wept with us.
There’s a damaged hand reached out through the dark.
There’s an understanding look in his eyes that requires no words.
But when the dark is too dark to see, what shall we do?
I don’t have an answer, just a word.
Trust.
Trust in the only reverse narrative that has held through histories time.
Trust in the God who’s purpose was not to fix it all while we face the night,
but was to suffer with us, to swear with us, to weep with us and to know every inch of our death.
That is his purpose in the darkness of the in-between.
AMY DWIGHT 2023