Once you leave the middle, it's difficult to return

​I have seen it.

There is some disagreement in the middle of the bed, so each in the couple picks their side and retreats there. Where they stay. Until even the tension there, they at their own sides, is too much to bear, at which time they will retreat to their own ends of the house. And then their own ends of the county.

Retreat until there is no longer such a thing as a middle. A middle so long forgotten neither would have any idea how to get there even if they had the desire. And so a divide leads to total disappearance.

I would suggest that is where most interpersonal relationships end. In the escape from the middle. The escape from the messy and imperfection and tension.

But isn't that where transformation happens, in the tension?

It makes me wonder, is love the total lack of mess, or the capacity to navigate the nature of the mess - the middle - the tension - together?

There is a scene in the bible. In the Christian world the scene is the physical introduction to eternal life. So it's a biggie. In the scene, Jesus dies on the cross and then in three days rises from his grave, bringing all who choose the hope of it all a hope in an earthly life that will never succumb to death.

But here is the thing about that cross scene. Jesus is not alone. There is a thief hanging on a cross to Jesus' left, and another on his right. Jesus is in the middle. Why would the author of this scene draw this particular plot detail into the story?

This Jesus, not dying alone, but in the middle.

On one hand, I guess it was the perfect ending to Jesus' ministry here on earth. A Jesus who was always standing in the middle.

In the middle of the lawless and the self-righteous.

Between the Zealots and the Herodians.

Between the Pharisees and Sadducees.

Between the Jews and the Gentiles.

Between God and Humanity.

It was the perfect ending, I guess. But maybe it was also the perfect beginning. The perfect beginning, an introduction, to how Jesus wanted us to live among one another upon his departure to heaven.

Not just unafraid of the middle, but bravely willing to go live there.

I am afraid of this great escape from the middle. I am afraid of it in friendships and marriages and in churches and in our society. I am afraid of our instinct to disengage from one another to protect ourselves at the expense of engaging in the middle where healing begins.

And ends.

Jesus died on a cross. In the middle. Where he always was and where he still stands.

In the middle.

Calling us all.

Maybe in our escape from the middle we no longer hear him, but he is still there.

There between you and me.

There between you and me and God.

There.

Calling.