Liminal Phases

Years ago, I suspect in college, I learned about what experts call liminal phases, but what peoples throughout the ages have simply understood as necessary transitions or rites of passage.

Wikipedia defines the related term “liminality” as,

“the quality of ambiguity or disorientation that occurs in the middle stage of rites, when participants no longer hold their preritual status but have not yet begun the transition to the status they will hold when the rite is complete. During a rite's liminal stage, participants ‘stand at the threshold’ between their previous way of structuring their identity, time, or community, and a new way, which the rite establishes.”

Every appointment transition I have entered (changing from one church to another) has felt like a liminal phase for me. An in-between place. There are rituals for a pastor as they leave a church, and practices as they enter a new church, but the time in-between is empty. That is somewhat intentional—a Sabbath time between what are quite intense periods for a pastor—but it is also disorienting.

I am less than a week away from beginning my new appointment as pastor at Calvary UMC in Waldorf, MD. As our bishop asked transitioning pastors, I took the last two Sundays off from my previous appointment. But I have been aware through these past ten months, after leaving my appointment before that at Arden UMC as my family moved to follow my husband’s newjob, that I was living in a prolonged liminal phase.

And boy did I feel that.

As United Methodist clergy we serve, in the phrase we are apt to use, “at the pleasure of the bishop,” which for us captures the uncertainty of the appointment process and the knowledge that the bishop could move us at any time. In reality, however, the vast majority of us serve regular appointment year cycles (with transitions July 1) and have some expectation of how long we might be at our church. Still, the transitions can be disorienting, and re-aligning.

You see, liminal phases are not just about disorientation and ambiguity for their own sakes. Life can bring enough of that. It seems to be that liminal phases are about becoming. About noticing things about ourselves, the world, others and God in ways that are difficult when we are settled into expected patterns and places. And living into newness.

This is one reason I have such fondness for camp and retreat centers (and I suspect one reason I was drawn to my husband, whose life work is to order and operate such spaces). We do our best and deepest growth when our moorings are loose.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like ambiguity or disorientation. These past ten months have been challenging as I’ve had the opportunity (and yes, even been forced) to look at my life, ministry and the world around me in new ways. And like many liminal phases, I suspect the fruits of that growth may not be apparent to me until I settle into this next season.

But I give thanks for God’s faithfulness in this (and all) liminal phases. For patience, though often hard-fought, when I wanted to rush through it. For strength when it bore down on me. For support from others as I’ve processed this phase. For love and care of congregations on both ends of it and indeed, inside of it.

We all walk through liminal phases. The in-between times. Job transitions, life changes, grief and health challenges are just some of the experiences which can bring us to these spaces.

I give thanks that we worship a God who knows these spaces well, and who is able to use them to guide, strengthen and renew us.

May your liminal spaces and phases, even with all their ambiguity and disorientation, be an opportunity for growth, grace and new glimpses of God’s power in your life.