Finding Good Places in Liminal Spaces
I am writing this blog post from a truly weird liminal space, a place where reality itself feels altered. Picture this: the dining area of the Hilton in Clearwater Beach, Florida. It’s “only” 1:30 in the morning; 10:30 PM California time, and I’m jetlagged. Outside the street resounds with sounds of vacationers partying in the streets outside, but the hotel bar is completely shut down and deserted.
It’s a bizarre scene indeed. Samba music is playing, lights and air conditioning are blasting, yet my friend and I are the only ones in the room. Occasionally a worker walks through, but the space remains eerily quiet. My friend and I are working on our laptops, using the hotel’s common area as a personal office before we prepare to hail an Uber and head home in a few hours.
In times of waiting, I often like to amuse myself by catching up on TV shows. One of my favorites is The Good Place, which centers around a group of unlikely friends navigating the afterlife and figuring out how to be good people. Watching this show can be an emotional rollercoaster: the characters’ antics make you laugh, but then an unexpectedly profound moment causes you to think more deeply.
One such moment stood out to me in a recent episode. Janet, an immortal Siri-like personal assistant, is posing as a waiter to help her human friends. As she figures out how to operate a beer tap, she comments: “Humans are so strange. They live for 80 years and spend so much of that time just waiting for things to be over.”
It was a small moment in a comedic show, but it truly caught me off guard. I instantly felt convicted; how many times have I wished to be done with a boring lecture, a tedious flight, a challenging workout class? At times I’ve wanted nothing more than for law school to be over, to move on to the next phase of my life.
As Christians, it’s natural for us to be eager for the future. The Earth isn’t our home, so it makes sense that we feel restless and discontented here. God has set eternity in our hearts (Ecclesiastes 3:1). That means that we’re spiritually inclined to anticipate something beyond our current existence.
Philippians 3:13-14 beautifully describes this longing for eternity: “Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”
God gave us this inner longing to make us desire more closeness with Him. Like many worldly things, however, this yearning can quickly become corrupted. We are called to be in the world but not of the world (John 17:16). This means that we won’t always feel comfortable here, but it also means that we’re called to be good stewards of His creation and to make the most of our time on Earth.
This can be easier said than done. As adults, our daily routines often feel stressful and tedious. Children, on the other hand, are experts at having fun and living in the moment. That’s why in Matthew 18:2-4, Jesus tells His followers that they will not inherit the kingdom of Heaven unless they have childlike faith.
It’s important to note that God calls us to have childlike faith, but not to have childish thinking. This means that we should plan ahead and take care of our responsibilities. But it also means that when it’s time to set the work aside and enjoy a day at the beach, a good book, or quality time with a friend, we should focus purely on the moment and set other worries aside.
Ever since watching that Good Place episode, I’ve challenged myself to be more present instead of waiting for things to end. This looks different in different situations: when I’m in the midst of something mandatory like a class, I challenge myself to become more focused and engaged instead of staring at the clock. When I’m doing something non-essential, I switch gears and start doing something else that’s more enjoyable or fulfilling.
Even right now, in this weird liminal space, I catch myself checking the time and wishing I was heading home already. But instead, I’m challenging myself to do something that will make a difference in the long run: focusing on writing the memo for my Pro Bono project, taking a stroll through the abandoned hotel, talking with the friend who’s sitting across from me.
Not every moment is exciting, but every breath we take is a gift from an incredibly powerful God who loves us unconditionally. Even the most tedious or painful seasons carry moments of delight and important opportunities for growth. Once we fully understand and appreciate the value of each moment instead of waiting for things to end, we’ll realize that we are already in the Good Place.
NMK