Waiting and what to do with the waiting. (Side note: I was searching for quotes on “waiting” and could only find statistics supporting why abstinence is important… this section of writing has nothing to do with that, don’t worry). I’m talking about The Space. The spaces of life where we’re not where we used to be, yet we’re not where we are to be next yet either. The gaps of time, be it a few minutes in line somewhere or months of anticipation, that we fill as quickly as they are created. It’s been said that if you want to know what motivates a person– where their desires are really at– you need only to glance at their bank statement and how they use their time. Although I agree, I would modify that assertion by adding this: how a person waits and uses the spaces of time where nothing (seemingly) is going on can reveal much about a person’s interior life– their desires, struggles, and go-to habits during the time they feel that nothing is progressing. What on earth are we to do with these moments?
Liminal space. This is another synonymous term associated with the idea of a “gap” or “space” in the areas of our lives where nothing seems to be going on.
I had a gap in my life occur in April 2016. Two gaps, actually. The first was a literal, physical gap created by an ice chest cooler lid flying at my face whilst boating on the Willamette river in Oregon. I was out fishing on the river with my wife and father in-law and we had just decided to call it a day after an unsuccessful day of catching nothing but sun and a boat’s anchor with our fishing line. As we headed toward the dock, the wind picked up the loose-fitting fishing cooler lid at the front of the boat and, like a missile from hell, it knocked my two front teeth out and left me with a split lip. Long story short, I passed out, my wife almost died of a heart attack because she thought I was dying, I got 9 stitches and am in the process of figuring out how to get two permanent fake teeth situated in the gap of my mouth. I have a temporary set of teeth that looks more like a halloween accessory fitted for a hillbilly costume than my original teeth, but they do the trick for now.
The other space/gap occurred in April as well. I had been working at a church for 2 years and 8 months when I was let go/quit my job. It was a long time coming but it had finally come. I’d been seriously deliberating over leaving my church job for various reasons since August 2015 but decided to wait. I was glad I waited. So much good happened and in hindsight I see how it played a huge role in me becoming more of the type of person and leader I desire to become. The time had come, though. Although I was anticipating this departure I didn’t really know what I was doing fully. I felt compelled to transition out and felt the draw of the the Universe pulling me into something better and bigger (I realize that sounds so narcissistic and vague. Whatever, haha.) but had no idea what was next. In fact, I was pretty sure I was done with working at a church for awhile. I was over it and was convinced at the time I wasn’t a right fit for a church and a church wouldn’t be a right fit for me. I still loved the church but wanted to do something different for awhile– anything, really. I felt refreshed and excited for the new thing but the problem was I had zero idea as to what that might be. Nothing. I applied to a couple of random business-type jobs but nothing seemed to be coming of it. From January to April I was certain that I would have to do anything just to make some money while I figured out what I really wanted to do. It didn’t help that I felt completely discouraged by Christians trying to explain calling, vocation, and all the other buzzwords that are not helpful when trying to work out what you’re going to do with your life at 26. I was paralyzed by this feeling that if I didn’t know what was next I was completely screwed. This time in my life brought out the worst of my two most sinful addictions– fear and control. I feared what would happen if I left the place that was comfortable. At the same time, I was fearful of staying and continuing to die on the inside a little more each day I settled. I wanted to control the next stage. I wanted certainty and predictability if I was going to step into a new thing. I was afraid of leaving a church job and being stuck as a client services associate at some financial institution my whole life only to figure out after I made more money that, 10 years down the road, I had made a huge mistake.
There was liminal space.
There existed a chasm between two ledges in which I felt I was balancing on a rope in the middle over a great valley. One wrong move and I’d surely end up either hugging the rope for dear life the rest of my existence or plummet onto the rocks to my death. I couldn’t bridge the distance.
I was experiencing the death of something without certainty of the birth of something new.
All of this coincided with other liminal spaces in my life. Along with leaving behind my job at the church I had worked at for almost three years (where I figured I’d be for at least 5-7 years), I was leaving behind a whole set of beliefs about God, humanity, the Universe, science, philosophy and the church. My heart and brain were making a shift in a different direction as I deconstructed what I consider to be old and dying beliefs but there was no new construction of something else. This caused an enormous existential/theological crisis in my life. It felt as though I had no ground to stand on but at the same time I had a ceiling also removed. A ceiling that inhibited my whole self from understanding life and myself and others and God in ways that felt limiting and small. I felt like my world got bigger but I didn’t know what to do with all the extra space now.
I was in a liminal-predicament. All of these moments crashing in. It felt like a mid-mid-life-crisis. I knew where I didn’t want to be in my faith journey, my job, and my dental situation anymore but I didn’t know where I was going to end up.
It left me paralyzed in fear and robbed of joy, so obsessed with what was next that I was unable to fully embrace the space that I now see God was using to open me up to more mystery, wonder and contentment. Fear has a habit of doing that if not properly put in it’s rightful place– hijacking your happiness and killing your excitement. Over the next few weeks I’m going to tackle this subject of liminal space in different parts, hopefully working toward a new way to view your own liminal space and waiting experiences. I’ll let you in on a little spoiler before the next part. I’m alive. I’m okay. Actually, better than ever (and I still remain toothless). I’ve received a great joy in the process and I hope you can too. I hope there’s a great exchange that takes place where you surrender the parts of you that feel lost in the liminal space and receive the better gift of mystery, joy in the waiting, and anticipation for the unknown.
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