Living in the gray

There was a time when the window into the world closed at midnight. It happened when the “Star-Spangled Banner” would blare through the small speakers of a black-and-white television. Then static would fill the room as the picture faded. Only enough light remained for Dad to cross the room and turn the set off. It wasn’t often that he stayed up until midnight, but when he did, I remember the sound of silence that followed the twist of the dial. The house grew still.
It felt safe – tucked in bed with my sister lying next to me, when rest came easy and all of the dangers of life remained at a distance. The world could be turned off then.
Today it feels as if it never stops, and we don’t know how to rest in the in-between anymore. It is as though we are suspended between yesterday and tomorrow.
Even the gray areas of our lives are now filled with senseless chatter that crowds out our conversations with the Lord. Somewhere along the way, life stopped turning off, and we now live in the gray – between the visible and what God is still unfolding.
This is not just the gray of silence or noise – it is the gray of waiting, standing at the edge of a river that has not yet opened. The space between promise and fulfillment, between God’s spoken word and what we can see. It is the moment when obedience is required before understanding comes, where God says, “Go forward,” but the water still looks too deep, too strong, too impossible.
Israel understood this gray at the edge of what God had spoken. It was a time when the Jordan River was at flood stage. The waters were raging, and Israel was caught between yesterday and tomorrow – between the promised land and the fulfillment of God’s promise.
Not knowing where to turn, Joshua told them to consecrate themselves to the Lord and prepare their hearts for what God was about to bring to pass.
So with hearts prepared, Israel followed behind the Ark of the Covenant as the priests stepped into the raging waters. The moment their feet touched the river, the waters stopped, and they carried the Ark into the center of the dry riverbed. The waters held back as the very presence of God remained in the middle of the Jordan while all of Israel passed through. God did not just make a way. God became the way. Not at a distance. Not ahead of them calling them forward. But right in the middle of the seemingly impossible – holding back the waters they could not control until everyone had crossed over on dry ground.
Could it be that Joshua 3 is teaching us how to live in the gray – not a gray of confusion, but a gray of trust, where God is still present in the waiting?
A place where we quiet our hearts before Him, not escaping life but turning back to the One who holds the crossing. A place where we prepare – not for what we can see, but for what He has already spoken. Where we keep Him at the center of our journey into tomorrow, trusting Him to carry us through the night when the world is turned off and stillness returns.
For each of us there is a Jordan to cross, and we still long for the silence of midnight where the voice of the Lord is heard.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you…they will not sweep over you. Isaiah 43:2

Cheryl Mixon-Cruce is Pastor of Ochlockonee Bay United Methodist Church and Sopchoppy United Methodist Church.