the grace of liminal space: linger in transitions

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Liminal spaces are the in-between places of life. They sit between where you have been and where you are going, whether that shift is physical, emotional, or internal. The word comes from the Latin limen, meaning threshold. To be in a liminal space is to sense that change is coming while still waiting for clarity about what comes next. This fits beautifully with my word of the year: LINGER. It can be tempting to rush through times of transition to get to the next thing. What might it mean to linger there? To embrace the waiting?

An overview of liminal space

I found some great information at verywellmind.com. Let’s dive in!

Liminal spaces often feel disorienting. Think of an empty hallway, an airport late at night, or a long stretch of highway. They can stir nostalgia, anticipation, and unease all at once. The early months of the COVID pandemic captured this feeling well. Many of us felt suspended between the life we knew and an unknown future, longing for a clear ending.

Anthropologist Arnold van Gennep described liminality as part of how humans move through change. Life transitions tend to follow a pattern of separation, transition, and incorporation. The middle stage is the hardest. Our minds crave predictability, and liminal seasons resist it. That discomfort shows up in many places, such as graduations, moves, illness, grief, divorce, or major decisions where no option feels settled.

What does it mean to linger here?

While liminal spaces can heighten anxiety, they are not only something to endure. They can also be places of transformation. Routines can provide stability, mindfulness can help anchor you in the present moment, and creativity can offer a way to process everything. Liminal seasons ask us not to rush through uncertainty, but to linger, noticing what is forming.

Let’s do something countercultural. Instead of rushing forward, let’s stay attentive in the hallway. No need to sprint for the exit. Lingering in transition does not mean getting stuck or refusing to move. It means resisting the urge to numb the waiting or fill every quiet moment with certainty. Why do we do that?

To linger in a liminal season is to notice what this threshold is teaching. Allow questions to remain open a little longer. Pay attention to what we’re feeling, the whole mixed bag. When we linger, we stop treating the in-between as wasted time and begin to see it as formative time.

Lingering can be simple:

Keeping small, grounding routines.
Sitting with God without demanding answers.
Writing honestly about what feels unfinished.
Trusting that becoming often happens before clarity.

Spiritual practices that fit liminal spaces

When we linger instead of rush, we may find that the waiting itself has shaped us in lasting ways. When certainty drops away, we are less tempted to perform faith and more likely to practice presence.

Waiting in prayer: Instead of praying for answers or outcomes, this kind of prayer focuses on availability. It sounds like, “God, I am here. I do not know what comes next, but I am open.” This is a type of welcoming prayer, a contemplative practice that works well in times of uncertainty.

Attention and noticing: Liminal seasons invite attentiveness. Paying attention to small graces, rhythms, or nudges can become a spiritual discipline. Journaling, walking, or sitting in silence helps you notice what is beneath the surface.

Naming loss and hope together: Transitions often hold both grief and anticipation. Lament and gratitude can coexist. Practices like writing psalms of your own, lighting a candle, or speaking losses out loud create space for honesty and trust.

Trust without a timeline: One of the hardest practices in liminal space is releasing the demand for a schedule. (I struggle with this! Love me a good list!) Trust becomes less about knowing when and more about believing that God is present now.

Scripture passages for times of transition

Here are several passages that speak to liminal seasons. Many of these happen on thresholds, in waiting, between what was and what will be.

Exodus 13:17-22: The wilderness journey begins. The people have left Egypt but are not yet home. God’s presence goes with them, not as a map, but as daily guidance. This passage affirms that transition is not abandonment.

Joshua 3: Israel stands at the edge of the Jordan River. The instruction is not to rush, but to pause, watch, and step forward only when the time comes. It is a powerful image of standing at a threshold.

Psalm 27:13-14: This psalm names fear and trust in the same breath. The invitation to wait for the Lord speaks directly to seasons when clarity feels delayed.

Psalm 46: Often read for comfort, this psalm is also deeply liminal. Everything familiar is shaking, yet God is present as refuge. It reminds us that stillness is not inactivity but trust.

Luke 2:19: Mary treasures and ponders what she does not yet understand. This is lingering embodied. She does not rush to explain or resolve the mystery.

Acts 1:4-8: The disciples are told to wait before acting. They are between Jesus’ resurrection and the Spirit’s arrival. This passage affirms that waiting can be obedient and purposeful.

Anchor scripture: a deeper look at Joshua 3

3 Joshua took down the camp early in the morning. He and all the Israelites marched out of Shittim and came to the Jordan, where they stayed overnight before crossing. ²At the end of three days the officers went through the middle of the camp. ³They commanded the people, “As soon as you see the Lord your God’s chest containing the covenant and the levitical priests carrying it, you are to march out from your places and follow it. ⁴But let there be some distance between you and it, about three thousand feet. Don’t come near it! You will know the way you should go, even though you’ve never traveled this way before.”

⁵Joshua said to the people, “Make yourselves holy! Tomorrow the Lord will do wonderful things among you.” ⁶Then Joshua said to the priests, “Lift up the covenant chest. Go along in front of the people.” So they lifted up the covenant chest and went in front of the people.

⁷The Lord said to Joshua, “Today I will begin to make you great in the opinion of all Israel. Then they will know that I will be with you in the same way that I was with Moses. ⁸You are to command the priests who carry the covenant chest, ‘As soon as you come to the bank of the Jordan, stand still in the Jordan.’”

⁹Joshua said to the Israelites, “Come close. Listen to the words of the Lord your God.” ¹⁰Then Joshua said, “This is how you will know that the living God is among you and will completely remove the Canaanites, Hittites, Hivites, Perizzites, Girgashites, Amorites, and Jebusites before you. ¹¹Look! The covenant chest of the ruler of the entire earth is going to cross over in front of you in the Jordan. ¹²Now pick twelve men from the tribes of Israel, one per tribe. ¹³The soles of the priests’ feet, who are carrying the chest of the Lord, ruler of the whole earth, will come to rest in the water of the Jordan. At that moment, the water of the Jordan will be cut off. The water flowing downstream will stand still in a single heap.”

Marching across the Jordan

¹⁴The people marched out from their tents to cross over the Jordan. The priests carrying the covenant chest were in front of the people. ¹⁵When the priests who were carrying the chest came to the Jordan, their feet touched the edge of the water. The Jordan had overflowed its banks completely, the way it does during the entire harvest season. ¹⁶But at that moment the water of the Jordan coming downstream stood still. It rose up as a single heap very far off, just below Adam, which is the city next to Zarethan. The water going down to the desert sea (that is, the Dead Sea) was cut off completely. The people crossed opposite Jericho. ¹⁷So the priests carrying the Lord’s covenant chest stood firmly on dry land in the middle of the Jordan. Meanwhile, all Israel crossed over on dry land, until the entire nation finished crossing over the Jordan.

This passage works beautifully for liminal space. The people are no longer wandering aimlessly, but they are not yet settled. They stand at the edge of the Jordan River, carrying promise behind them and uncertainty in front of them. God does not rush them across. Instead, they pause. They watch. They wait. Only then are they invited to step forward. It’s a threshold moment in every sense. The instruction to keep distance and observe creates space for attentiveness. Crossing comes later. Presence comes first.

Reflection

Israel stood at the edge of the Jordan, the long-awaited Promised Land ahead and a swollen river between them. God called them to pause, prepare, and follow the ark (the visible sign of God’s presence) with a sense of trust. When the priests stepped into the waters, the river stopped, and the people crossed on dry ground.

This story reminds us that transitions often require waiting and acts of faith before the full path is revealed. Liminal spaces, like the Jordan for Israel, invite us to linger: attentive to God, open to formation, and ready to step forward when the time is right.

Transition is not failure or delay, but holy ground. Before the water moves, the people linger. They stand long enough to notice where God is leading and how they are being shaped in the waiting. The pause itself becomes part of the journey.

Lingering in liminal space does not mean refusing to move forward. It means honoring the moment before movement. It is choosing trust over urgency and presence over panic.

A simple prayer for liminal seasons

God, I am standing on a threshold. I do not see the full path ahead, but I trust that you are already there. Help me linger long enough to notice your presence, to listen more than I rush, and to step forward when the time is right. Amen.

Questions to ponder

What feels unfinished or unresolved?
What am I most tempted to rush or force?
What emotions are at play? Grief, hope, fear, curiosity, or something else?
What might it look like to linger rather than hurry?
Where do I notice God’s presence in this transition, even without answers?
What small, grounding practice could help me stay attentive?
When I imagine stepping forward, what would trust look like?

a walkway and archway with text "liminal space: What does it mean to linger in transitions?
Spiritual practices that fit liminal spaces.
Scripture passages for times of transition.
A simple prayer for liminal seasons.
Questions to ponder."

What liminal space are you in right now?

Do you think you might linger there? What have you learned? This has given me a lot to think about.

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Fondly,

Crysti