Liminal Space

And we come to the final day in the season of Lent. Holy Saturday. The place of in-between. We have stepped out of Friday, having left death behind us, while not yet stepping into what will be. We have not yet walked into the new life, the resurrection on the other side of crucifixion.

This is liminal space.

And this is the space which most of life actually takes place, which can be incredibly frustrating, and yet it offers us tremendous opportunity for growth. To acknowledge, accept, and honor the death of what was, while creating space to prepare for and anticipate what will be.

This is Saturday.

We rest from trying to fix, or fixate, on Friday, because it is no more. Friday has passed, the death has taken place and it is now behind us. But we don’t actually know what tomorrow brings. What will be the new, the next phase, the next season, the next relationship, or the next job? What is on the other side of this most recent death?

Because Jesus’s death is both deeply personal, and it is cosmic in scope. When we say Jesus dies for us, it’s not in the sense of “in place of,” but “in solidarity with.” Because the first is simply transactional and can confuse the fact that we will die. In fact we will die a million small deaths before we actually stop breathing. But on the cross, Jesus dies saying, “Me too.” This is far more transformational, because this is Jesus walking the entire path of life into death… and then resurrecting on the other side, which offers new life. A new birth, which is a resurrected life. But I’m getting ahead in the story…

Because we sit in Saturday. A day of silent reflection. A day of resting from all the death. We face, lament, and honor what was… and we begin to prepare for what will be. We begin to anticipate the newness and the next, but we don’t allow the anticipation to pull us out of the present.

Be here. Reflect. Lament. Rest.

Because what will be is not ours to control, but simply to receive.

A favorite saying in our culture is, “I can’t wait for…” and yet we can. It’s imperative that we wait and actually be here. It’s imperative that we wait… for resurrection. For New Creation. For the first day of a new week.

But today is Saturday. A seventh day, so a day of rest and waiting. An invitation to embrace the in-between.

May you be present to this liminal space. May you humbly acknowledge, lament, and honor what was. And may you begin to stir with hopeful anticipation for what will be.