By Mercedes Thomas
I met Jesus at eighteen sitting on the dusty floor of a retreat center. I had started my freshman year of college depressed, lonely, and looking for meaning. And that’s where Jesus found me, at a turning point of my life where I was looking back at what my life had been and looking forward to what my life could be.
My college years were a flurry of activity. I went to get my bachelor’s degree, and I graduated with that and so much more—a new-formed hope and purpose as a child of God. I spent days on campus going to my classes, studying in the library, and hanging out with friends. I also spent my time handing out water and snacks to other students heading to the bars, sharing my faith with my classmates, and standing beside my peers of all faiths when extremist groups came onto campus to yell obscenities at us. And through every experience, I formed deep bonds with those in my campus ministry as we shared the joys and trials of living on mission together on a secular campus.
I didn’t have the language for it at the time, but I now know I was experiencing what Christian thought leader Alan Hirsch calls liminality and communitas. While it may sound confusing or overly academic, the concept is actually quite simple: in moments of liminality—moments where you’re on the unknown threshold of what was and what is to come—you form strong comradery with those you journey with (communitas).
In other words, communitas is more than just being together with others in community; communitas is a group of people banded together around a shared mission. This mission is the mission of Christ, to share the message of Jesus and see every nation, tribe, and tongue come to know and trust in Jesus. Along the way, we face challenges and risks, and it is within these liminal moments that we experience growth and change—in ourselves, in our communities, and in our world.
It is also in these moments that I believe we truly and deeply experience the presence of God.
If there is an ideal example of liminality and communitas lived out, we need to look no further than Jesus and the disciples. Consider for a moment the diversity of the twelve Jesus called: Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John were fishermen (Matt. 34:18–22); Matthew was a tax collector (Matt. 9:9); and Simon the Zealot was likely a part of the Zealots political movement, a group of Jewish nationalists who opposed Roman rule and paying taxes to the emperor (Luke 6:15). And in addition to the twelve, Jesus’ band of followers included many others, including women like Mary Magdalene, Susanna, and Joanna (Luke 8:1–3). Yet, despite their differences in gender, socioeconomic status, and political views, Jesus’ disciples were united in Jesus’ mission to proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom.
Those who traveled with Jesus experienced deep communitas as they lived together, ate together, learned together, and went out on mission together. After Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension, the comradery and bonds formed were still there, creating a movement that had a unity in spirit that went beyond their differences. And it is this movement that set the stage for the Church and the Christian faith, allowing it to spread across the globe. Even in the midst of challenges and persecution, the disciples had been irrevocably changed. They were ready to champion their faith wherever they went—even to the grave.
This is the rich history and tradition we are invited to participate in today. When we make the decision to repent of our old ways, and to turn and follow Jesus, we are called to join Jesus in mission, to share the Gospel and to be the Church wherever we go. This is more than just gathering together on a Sunday morning for a worship service (though these gatherings certainly can be an important piece of the Christian life). But the way of Jesus is meant to be all-encompassing, affecting every arena of our lives in ways that are often uncomfortable or countercultural.
I believe that engaging in this idea of liminality and communitas—embracing risk and challenge with others committed to the same thing—is essential to live a life like Jesus. But what does this look like practically? I’d like to offer a case study from my own life as just one example.
On any given Monday night, you likely can find me drinking coffee, playing games, and talking about Jesus and Scripture at Millersville Mennonite Church. That’s because I facilitate what I refer to as a missional community of young adults called the Gaming Grounds. This group is founded around a shared belief that the expression of our faith shouldn’t just be limited to Sunday. So we gather together to grow in our faith and to discuss how we can live missionally wherever we are: in our families, our workplaces, our friend groups, etc.
Since we started meeting in April of 2024, our lives have been changed. We have asked how we can better love others as Christ does, and we have taken tangible steps in doing so. We have prayed with and for each other, encouraging one another. We have raised money to help others in need. We have thought about more ways to be the Church to people. And yes, we have formed new friendships and community, sharing with one another our joys and our sorrows.
This kind of community doesn’t happen overnight or by accident; for me, it looked like six months of daily prayer, asking God for a co-laborer who had the same vision as me, and waiting for God to reveal the way forward. Even now, it requires regular reflection, considering whether I and those in the group are growing to look more like Jesus.
But I don’t think I’ve ever felt as close to God as I do now on this journey. Following Jesus means a continual shift away from comfort and into risk. And in these places of the unknown where we don’t have the answers and don’t know what to expect, we have no choice but to rely on God. And, by the way, God is faithful.
Mercedes Thomas serves as the Communications Director for LMC. She attends New Danville Mennonite Church and leads the Gaming Grounds.