Rev. Kristi Hintz, superintendent of the Northern Skies District, reflects on how the hope we generate together, particularly in the awkward in-between times when our plans have come undone, can be sustaining.
KRISTI HINTZ
Superintendent, Northern Skies District
As the superintendent of the Northern Skies District, which spans both sides of the Mackinac Bridge, I have recently become familiar with this text message:
Notice: Mackinac Bridge is CLOSED again today to all vehicles due to falling ice. A text alert will be sent with updates as needed.
I respect that falling ice poses a potentially life-threatening danger, and I absolutely understand that this alert is in place for the safety of all. Still, reviewing the text alerts from February and March this year, I found myself thinking more than once, “I know the plans I have for myself, and this bridge closure isn’t what I planned!” Admittedly, I once tried to talk my way around a Wyoming State Trooper and onto a closed interstate in the midst of a blizzard. The 36 hours I spent in a roadside motel in Casper, WY, were unhappy. I know the plans I have for myself, and these aren’t those plans.
It feels like it has been a long season of changing plans and rescheduled events. In the week of Advocacy Day in mid-March, we saw more than 3 feet of snow in some locations across our district. By contrast, my son and daughter-in-law in Denver have spent more time riding bikes than skiing this winter and are already under red-flag warnings for critical fire danger due to a record-low snowpack. Increasingly, it seems we are navigating a volatile and unpredictable world. And yet, we navigate it together.
Ad hoc companionship springs up quickly at fast-food restaurants and gas stations on both ends of a closed Mackinac Bridge — companions not on a journey but in that awkward space of a journey interrupted. Is this not where we spend much of our time? We find ourselves together in the space of interrupted journeys, awkward though it may be. When the flight is rescheduled, the power is out, or the bridge is closed, we find ourselves disoriented, frustrated, and finally resigned. Sometimes, then, something interesting happens. We discover something in common we hadn’t noticed before. Maybe we even tell stories about the plans we thought we had to fellow companions on our interrupted journey and hear their stories, too.
Jeremiah 29 nudges me to wonder about the hope we receive in this life of interrupted journeys. In those awkward, interrupted spaces, we sometimes begin to generate a tentative communal hope. An airplane will eventually arrive at the gate. The ice will either melt or freeze on the bridge, clearing it for travel. A shared experience of hope, even a cautious, tentative one, can anchor us in the face of uncertainty, in the face of “I know the plans I have for myself.”
Hope that we generate together, particularly in the awkward in-between times when our plans have come undone, can be sustaining. I love the language in The Message translation of Jeremiah 29:10-14:
This is God’s Word on the subject: “As soon as Babylon’s seventy years are up and not a day before, I’ll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out — plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. “When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I’ll listen. When you come looking for me, you’ll find me. Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I’ll make sure you won’t be disappointed.” God’s Decree. “I’ll turn things around for you. I’ll bring you back from all the countries into which I drove you” — God’s Decree — “bring you home to the place from which I sent you off into exile. You can count on it.”
Jeremiah speaks to people in the awkward in-between, to those with interrupted plans. He speaks to people who want to go home. Their plans for themselves do not match what they are experiencing. Yet he assures them that a plan is in place and that all will be restored. In the awkward in-between, it sometimes takes a lot of hope and faith to believe we will be all right eventually, or that where we find ourselves is an okay place to be, too. When our plans are interrupted, can we engage fully in the place where we find ourselves instead? Could it be, in the words of John Lennon, that life is what happens while we’re busy making other plans?
The ministry of our district superintendents is made possible thanks to generous financial gifts from local United Methodist churches in Michigan through Ministry Shares. Thank you! Learn about the impact of Ministry Shares on mission and ministry in Michigan and around the world.
Last Updated on April 28, 2026