Consider Liminal Spaces
only tissue paper separates the material from the spiritual
Consider Liminal Spaces
The wee piece of card was half hidden under art supplies in the studio/shop on the high street of one of my favourite villages in Scotland. I wasn’t sure it was even for sale, but I decided it was worth a shot, and thankfully, the artist sold it to me for a few quid. Feeling like I’d just been handed an immense treasure, I left the shop, stepping out into the warm, drizzly rain.
A few evenings later, over dinner, I was chatting with my family and some friends about the space that is the ‘in-between’. Once again, the word liminal came up in conversation, and our friend Stephen asked what exactly it meant. My dad asked Stephen to stand up and walk over to the doorway a few paces away. Stephen obediently pushed back his chair, walked over and stood in the doorframe looking questioningly at Dad.
“Which room are you in, Stephen?” Dad asked, a smile on his face.
Stephen looked confused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the room behind him. Then, turning back to the table, he replied, “Neither? And also both, all at the same time.”
“Exactly,” Dad said, “That’s liminal space. It’s the here and the there, the ‘in-between’, thin place that separates two spaces from each other.”
And for some reason, that’s really stuck in my head and heart the past couple of days. The significance of thin places is etched deep into the history, myths and traditions of the British Isles and Celtic Christianity and has always fascinated me in connection with art and theology.
That little card bearing the inscription — consider liminal spaces — opens the door to a whole new realm of possibilities and places in which the reality of a liminal space might roam. It invites the reader to consider the fact that there could indeed be liminal spaces scattered throughout their daily lives. In C.S. Lewis’s beloved book “The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe,” the professor through whose wardrobe Lucy first enters Narnia, tells Peter and Susan that “there could be other worlds all over the place, just around the corner.” Whereas the professor urges the children to look out for other worlds scattered around them, I’d like to suggest, thin places — liminal spaces, if you will — are all around us if only we take the time to look just around the corner.
A couple of months ago, we took the ferry across the short stretch of sea that separates the Isle of Mull from Iona, the isle that was described once as a place where “only tissue paper separates the material from the spiritual.” The wind whipped at our faces, but the sun shone weakly from behind some foggy clouds, slightly cheering our pilgrim spirits. We stepped off the ferry, walked up the jetty and stood, looking around like the lost bunch that we were. After staring blankly at the satnav for a few hilarious moments, we headed up through the village towards the abbey. As we walked, I kept anticipating the moment when it would finally sink in that we were actually on Iona; that we’d made it to one of the world’s beautiful thin places where, supposedly, heaven kissed earth.
Yet as we walked, as gorgeous as the island was and as absolutely amazing as the history of Celtic Christianity in that place is, I never had a specific moment of sensing the ‘thin-ness.’ Oddly enough, it felt like a sacred moment similar to when I have a sweet quiet time in the morning and read my Bible, sipping coffee in the ordinary places of everyday life. In frustration, I prayed, bringing my questions to the Father, wondering why this space felt similar to so many others and not at all like what I had been expecting. And immediately, I sensed Him whispering, rather like the professor in Narnia, “There are liminal spaces all over the place, just around the corner.”
I have to admit that at first I was frustrated. Of course there are liminal spaces — I rattled off a list to Him, proving my point. Iona, Lindisfarne (Holy Island), Jerusalem, and the list could go on and on. “Not only those spaces,” He whispered gently, “Spaces where the kingdom is moving in, where my people can see me.”
Then, suddenly, I began to understand. It wasn’t just the “holy” or “sacred” sites where the veil was thin — there are also liminal spaces sprinkled throughout the ordinary moments of life. It’s not always the blindingly obvious spaces that are liminal. Often it’s in creation — there’s something about the majesty of the created world which always draws me towards the Creator; sometimes it’s in art — whether through words, or paints, or pencils, or ink, or a thousand different mediums. Art, like creation, captures the very essence of the heart of the Father. Many times its through people — in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” How often do we catch a glimpse of the immense beauty of God that is reflected in the faces of His bride scattered across the globe?
The list, of course, could go on, but I think it all wraps up in the three tiny words printed on the piece of simple card that I found in that studio.
Consider Liminal Spaces.
So, by all means, go to Iona. Journey to the beloved thin places of the world and invite Jesus to journey with you, the Father to meet you there, and the Spirit to return home with you.
And also.
Look out for spaces in which heaven draws near to earth in the ordinary because liminal spaces are just around the corner. Around your kitchen table. On your walk. In your back garden. In the shop aisle. While you’re lying in bed. When you brew coffee. Before beginning work. In a traffic jam. After the sun has set. When getting upset by a small thing. In the midst of a conversation. Be aware of the Spirit moving even there. Ask Him to reveal the doorways, the liminal spaces, all around you.
Consider liminal spaces and always have your eyes open for the doorways — the thin spaces where the Kingdom is moving in. We’re living in the liminal spaces of the world as we anticipate the coming of Jesus, and as we continue to live and serve His bride here on earth. We’re given the gift of life in the doorway, friends, the almost there and also not yet — what a privilege!
Life Musings:
Some dear friends visited last week, and we had such a fun time! We rested, chatted, played games, did some touristy things, listened to entire albums, had car troubles (true friends, right there), and watched some of the World Cup (we even stayed awake and watched Paraguay vs. Germany — what fun!).
Speaking of friends, in between the fun, chaotic, crazy summer things of hosting and seeing people, I was able to have two conversations via phone with a friend in one week, and it was such a surprising gift. We talked about theology of place, about trees, and Wendell Berry and Andrew Peterson, community, and life.
I’m reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and absolutely loving it. J.K. Rowling is a fantastic storyteller and is a master at the art of layering meaning within her stories.
It’s been hot here in the UK the past couple of weeks, but we did finally get some rain the other day, for which I was very excited — except it was a warm, drizzly, humid sort of rain, so never mind.
My summer playlist is a curious mixture of genres and artists, but my current favourite is Andy Squyres’s newest album ‘Praise Songs’. The lyrics are deeply human and truthful, while also “sneaking past the watchful dragons” and awaking a fresh sense of wonder and rightness in your soul. Each four-minute-and-a-few-seconds song, I would argue, is a liminal space.
As the wise, old professor Kirk once (sort of) said, there could be liminal spaces all over the place, just around the corner. So keep your eyes open, friends. Consider those thin places where the Kingdom is touching earth.
Thank you for reading my musings!
Elsie x
All photos © Elsie Coppedge 2026
YES YES YES YES YES!!!!! I have been thinking about this for weeks, inspired by Madeleine L'Engle's book Walking on Water. What if there really are other worlds all over the place? We've forgotten to be enchanted with the world both in the magnificent and in the everyday. Thank you for this reminder--and the word! Liminal. I haven't heard it before, but I'll be using that from now on.