Sunday, July 19, 2026: "No Threshold Need Be a Threat"

Watch the Sermon here

First United Presbyterian Church

“No Threshold Need Be a Threat”

Rev. Amy Morgan

July 19, 2026

Genesis 28:10-19a

Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a stairway set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven, and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the Lord stood beside him and said, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring, and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south, and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go and will bring you back to this land, for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!” And he was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”

So Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. He called that place Bethel, but the name of the city was Luz at the first. 

Romans 8:24-25

For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope, for who hopes for what one already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

"Imagine describing a dog to someone who’s never seen one before, and then asking them to draw it." This is the quote, which became an image, which became a viral internet meme, which became a horror movie called “Backrooms.” What this quote does is create a liminal space in our imaginations. There is a description, just enough information to introduce a new reality. But because we’ve never seen it, we don’t have the experience of it, our imagination can fill in all sorts of terrifying details. And the drawing of this that took over the internet is pretty frightening. The horror movie that was released in May is a psychological thriller playing on our fear of liminality, of being trapped in spaces that are a departure from our known reality without a clear path to a new normal. 

Liminal spaces are terrifying. Contemplative theologian, Richard Rohr, says that a liminal space is a “unique position where human beings hate to be but where the biblical God is always leading them. It is when you have left the tried and true, but have not yet been able to replace it with anything else. It is when you are finally out of the way. It is when you are between your old comfort zone and any possible new answer. If you are not trained in how to entrust and wait, you will run…anything to flee this terrible cloud of unknowing.”

Many people run to religion to alleviate the psychological suffering caused by liminality. In religion, they seek concrete answers, dependable patterns, reliable community, solid truth, and rules to guide and direct them to positive outcomes. They don’t have to sit in spaces between the known and unknown. Just open up the Bible, go to church on Sunday, tithe and follow the 9-step discipleship plan, and you can know everything you need to know to feel safe and comfortable. 

What’s so ironic about this is that, if we read the Bible at all, we see God constantly leading people into liminal spaces, as Rohr points out. From the very beginning, human beings are ejected from the garden, driven away from the tower of Babel, sent out from their home country to be a wandering Aramean. 

And now the grandson of that wandering Aramean, Jacob, finds himself in a liminal space. His father has offered his deathbed blessing and sent Jacob back to his mother’s kinfolk to find a wife. Seems like a happy errand, one that is likely to end well. 

Isaac, and probably Rebeka, have described this land and these people to Jacob, but he’s never seen them or met them. He has just enough information to introduce a new reality. But because he’s never experienced this place or these people himself, his imagination can fill in all sorts of terrifying details. 

So when he lays his head on a stone to sleep outside the city of Luz, Jacob is in between the life he’s known – as a son, a brother, a heel-grabber, a child of God’s promise to Abraham and Isaac – and the life that is somewhere ahead of him – as a husband, a father, a deal-maker, a wrestler, an heir of God’s promise. 

And it is in this liminal time and space that Jacob sees something that truly terrifies him. He’s given a vision of the space between earth and heaven, the most liminal of all liminal spaces. The Celtic Christians called these “thin spaces,” places where, as Harvard theologian Peter Gomes writes, “the visible and the invisible world come into their closest proximity.” These places were sought out by the wise, but they were also places that evoked fear and awe, the places where ghosts and mythological creatures might dwell. Gomes asserts that “perhaps the ultimate of these thin places in the human condition are the experiences people are likely to have as they encounter suffering, joy, and mystery.” Liminal spaces, thin spaces, are tied to human experience, not just physical places. 

Those who encountered the deep suffering of slavery connected with Jacob’s vision, as expressed in the spiritual, “We Are Climbing Jacob’s Ladder.” There is no mention of angels ascending and descending. Instead, the singers walk boldly into that liminal realm themselves, ready to climb higher and higher. For those living in a reality that is already a nightmare, liminal spaces offer a path to freedom. They are a source of hope. 

Theologian and Civil Rights leader Howard Thurman, commenting on this spiritual, believes it articulates a theology of hope: “There seems to be basic to human experience a kind of incurable optimism about the ultimate destiny of [humanity] . . . Sometimes blindly, sometimes with scarce hope of vindication, often with wild irrationality, the spirit of [humanity] dares to affirm ultimate hope.” Thurman further develops the theme of hope, concluding with an expansive understanding of the meaning of this spiritual that includes all humanity: “We are all climbing Jacob’s ladder, and every round goes higher and higher. All who recognize that this is a living part of their experience join with those early destiny-bound singers who marched through all the miseries of slavery confident that they could never be entirely earth-bound.” 

The early Christians Paul wrote to in Rome also needed this hope. The Roman church was comprised of Jews who followed the Way of Jesus, the Jewish Messiah, and Gentiles who abandoned their pagan beliefs to embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ. Both groups of Christians were living in a liminal space, between their old beliefs and something new but not yet realized. This already-but-not-yet experience is precisely what Paul is speaking into in the 8^th chapter of his letter to this church. 

They have been slaves to fear and sin; they have suffered in body and spirit. And that experience of suffering itself is a liminal space. They haven’t converted to Christianity in the hope that they’ll get all the right answers, that the truth will be simple and that the way of Jesus will be easy to follow and make them happy, healthy and wealthy. They have come to Jesus because it is in this “thin space,” this place of mystery and awe, that they find hope. It is in this liminal space that they see the possibility of a new and redeemed creation, even if they haven’t experienced it yet. They are in the space between Jesus’s earthly life and his triumphant return, between the miracle of the resurrection and God’s realm being complete on earth. 

Poet John O’Donohue explores liminal space through the image of thresholds, writing that, “No threshold need be a threat, but rather an invitation and a promise.” For Jacob, God invited him to continue his journey and promised to be with him and fulfill the promise made to his ancestors. For the early Christians, God invited them to live into hope with patience and promised them the redemption of the whole creation. 

As Christians today, we continue to dwell in the liminal space of the already-but-not-yet of God’s realm on earth. And like Jacob, we face times in our lives when we are living in-between one identity and the next. 

As this church approaches a pastoral transition, the distance from what was safe and familiar and the obscurity of what is to come will be a terrifying liminal space. But it can also be a space filled with hope and possibility. “No threshold need be a threat, but rather an invitation and a promise.” My friend, Susan Beaumont, an author and church consultant, wrote that “All truly great innovations are incubated in liminality. God’s greatest works occur in liminal space…A liminal season can be a rich time to imagine, assess, and engage new possibilities.” There is much to hope for in liminal experiences, even if we can’t see where they are leading us. 

Liminal spaces are part of the human condition. We are thrust into liminal spaces when a loved one dies, or when we’re diagnosed with a chronic illness. When we lose a job or start a new one. When we move to a new place. When we get married or divorced, when we go to a new school or join a new group or try to learn a new skill. We are almost constantly finding ourselves in these in-between spaces.  

And these places are terrifying, whether we’ve placed ourselves in them on purpose or been thrust into them against our will. We know just enough information to introduce a new reality. But because we’ve never seen it, we don’t have the experience of it, our imagination can fill in all sorts of terrifying details.

But these places are also the gate of heaven. Thomas Merton wrote that “the gate of heaven is everywhere,” and perhaps this is because liminal experiences are more the norm than the exception. And if we can hold the fear and anxiety with warmth and tenderness, perhaps we can melt into awe and wonder and ultimately, trust and hope. And from there, truly amazing things can happen. “No threshold need be a threat, but rather an invitation and a promise.”

In this liminal season in the life of this church, I trust that great innovations will be incubated, that God will do great works in you. As you imagine, assess, and engage new possibilities, may you be filled with awe, wonder, and incredible hope.

And in all the liminal spaces of our lives, we can know that God is with us. We can walk boldly into those spaces instead of running from them. We can see the gate of heaven everywhere. 

To God be all glory forever and ever. Amen.