Spiritual director Rebeka Moeljono invites us to explore how liminal space — in-between seasons of transition — can become sacred ground for spiritual discernment.
Rebeka Moeljono is a spiritual director and creative facilitator who loves helping others listen for God in seasons of transition. She received her master’s degree in Christian Formation and completed her spiritual director training at Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary. Rebeka is also a certified InterPlay leader and A Window Between Worlds facilitator, integrating movement, storytelling and the arts into spaces of healing and discernment. She offers creative spirituality resources through SD-Resources.com, including the “Sparks in the Dark” Lenten Journey.
This blog is part of a series by the Mennonite Spiritual Directors Network, a collaborative learning community from the Anabaptist Mennonite faith tradition committed to the contemplative ministry of spiritual direction.
This week, I found a word that named something I’ve felt for a long time — liminal. I wish I had known it earlier, because it fits so well with how I often feel when people ask how I am doing. Liminal simply means “in between” — the hallway between two thresholds, after something has ended but before anything new has begun.
Many of us live in this hallway more often than we realize, carrying it quietly into our conversations and interactions.
It’s a space we know well. A job ends. A role changes. A relationship shifts. Or nothing obvious happens on the outside, but inside something no longer fits. We feel unsettled, unsure, and a little impatient with ourselves for not having clarity yet.
Liminal space is not a mistake or a failure. It’s a real part of life. The word comes from the Latin “limen,” meaning threshold. It names those moments when the old way of being has loosened its grip, but the new way hasn’t shown up yet. Many of us recognize it in the words we find ourselves saying: “I don’t know what I’m doing next,” or “I can’t go back, but I don’t know where I’m headed.”
Liminal space is not a mistake or a failure. It’s a real part of life.
In “Awakening the Creative Spirit,” Christine Valters Paintner and Betsey Beckman describe this threshold as creative darkness. That phrase might sound heavy at first, but it’s actually very grounded. Creative darkness is like soil before anything sprouts. Nothing looks clear or finished, but something is quietly happening underneath.
This is usually the moment when we try to decide our way out.
When we’re uncomfortable, we want answers. We make lists, talk things through over and over, or pressure ourselves to figure it out. Decision making has its place; it helps us choose between options we already understand. But discernment is different.
Decision-making asks: What should I choose?
Discernment asks: What should I pay attention to right now?
Discernment isn’t about forcing a plan. It’s about noticing what’s already stirring beneath the surface. And in liminal space, thinking harder often doesn’t help. Our minds can get stuck, looping through the same questions without new insight.
That’s where creative and embodied practices can be surprisingly helpful. When words run out or thoughts get noisy, the body and imagination often know how to slow things down. They help us listen instead of rushing.
A simple practice for discernment in the in-between
If you’re in a season where things feel unclear, I invite you to try a finger labyrinth practice.
You can download a finger labyrinth here or create one of your own and place it in front of you. Using your non-dominant hand, slowly trace the path with your finger. There’s no right pace. Let your breathing soften as your finger moves along the winding line.
As you trace, gently ask yourself:
Where am I right now between what has ended and what has not yet begun?
Notice any images, feelings, memories, or sensations that arise. There’s no need to interpret them or make meaning right away. Simply stay with what shows up. When you reach the center, pause for a moment before tracing your way back out.
This practice isn’t meant to give you an answer. It’s meant to help you stay present long enough for discernment to deepen.
Many of us worry that if we don’t decide quickly, we’ll miss our chance or fall behind. But growth doesn’t need to be rushed. Dolores Montpetit, an artist and spiritual director, offers a helpful image:
“Can a butterfly see when its wings are complete? Do they have a mirror inside their cocoons? I think not. They have an inner wisdom that says, ‘Now.’ Butterflies know when it is time to fly. So do you. Trust your wings.”
Creative darkness doesn’t mean nothing is happening. It means something is forming quietly. And discernment between thresholds isn’t about having it all figured out — it’s about listening long enough to trust when it’s time to move.