16 JAN 2026
God is Here Too
Learning to trust Him in the in-between seasons of life
By Shikha, S.C.M.A. Communications Director
There are seasons in life we know how to celebrate. Beginnings, when everything feels fresh, full of promise, full of excitement. Endings, when things finally make sense, when we can look back and understand why it all happened the way it did.
But no one really prepares you for the in-between.
The in-between is that strange, quiet, uncertain space where you’re no longer who you were, but you’re not yet who you’re becoming. It’s when prayers feel heavier, answers feel slower, and faith feels softer than it used to. It’s the season where you don’t have clarity. Where your plans feel paused. Where your heart is tired of waiting.
And if you’re honest, you might be asking: God, are you still here? Did I do something wrong? Why does this feel so slow?
Here’s something we rarely talk about: God does not disappear in the in-between. He doesn’t step away when life becomes confusing. He doesn’t go silent when answers take time. He doesn’t abandon us when we’re unsure.
He stays.
We love the verses about new beginnings. We love the testimonies about breakthroughs. But the Bible is full of in-between stories. Joseph had a dream, but he also had a pit, a prison, and years of waiting. David was anointed, but not crowned for a long time. Jesus spent thirty years in obscurity before stepping into public ministry.
God seems to do some of His deepest work when no one is watching. Roots grow in darkness. Seeds break before they bloom. Babies grow hidden. Nothing alive begins on the surface.
And in many ways, this is what we see lived out in places like Swamp Camp.
It’s easy to think camp is all about loud worship, games, laughter, and big altar moments. And yes, those moments matter. But what transforms a heart often happens quietly, in late-night conversations, in small prayers whispered under the stars, in the safety of being seen and not rushed.
Swamp Camp itself is an in-between space. A space where kids are no longer who they used to be, but they’re not yet who they will become.
This is what S.C.M.A. has always believed: that transformation doesn’t only happen in visible breakthroughs, it happens in the unseen process. In the slow building of trust. In learning. In unlearning. In the beginning.
Maybe the in-between isn’t a delay. Maybe it’s development.
We often think that if God were really working, things would move faster. But what if slow is not a sign of absence? What if it’s a sign of intention?
The in-between is where our faith stops being borrowed and starts becoming personal. Where we stop relying on borrowed prayers and start finding our own words. Where we stop pretending and start becoming honest.
This is what we watch happen at camp, too. Kids come in with secondhand faith, what they’ve heard, what they’ve been told, what they think they’re supposed to believe. But somewhere between the games and the quiet moments, between the laughter and the tears, something shifts. Their faith becomes their own.
And that’s what God does in the in-between.
This season has a strange kind of ache. You still believe, but you’re tired. You still hope, but you’re unsure. You still pray, but sometimes it feels like all you have are sighs. And yet, God meets us there.
Scripture says, “For everything there is a season.” Not everything is meant to be rushed. Not everything is meant to be understood immediately. Not everything is meant to be fixed overnight. Some things are meant to be grown.
The in-between is sacred. It’s where humility is formed. Where compassion deepens. Where strength becomes gentle. Where faith becomes real, not performative, not polished, not perfect.
Just real.
And this is what S.C.M.A. exists for, not to rush people into outcomes, but to walk with them through the process. To build bridges between generations. To guide Kingdom Kids into becoming Young Kingdom Leaders, and Older Leaders into becoming Kingdom Partners, slowly, intentionally, lovingly.
Because becoming one takes time.
So if you’re in an in-between season right now, unsure, tired, questioning, waiting, this is not a failure. This is formation. You are not late. You are not forgotten. You are not behind. You are becoming.
Just like we remind our kids at Swamp Camp: God is not in a hurry with your heart. He is patient. He is present. And He is working, even when it feels quiet. So take a breath. Loosen your grip on certainty. Let God work slowly. Let Him work deeply.
Because the God of the mountains is also the God of the middle. The God of miracles is also the God of moments that feel ordinary. The God of endings is also the God of waiting. And maybe the in-between isn’t something to escape.
Maybe it’s something to trust. Because God is here too.