Liminality and Communitas
Why Movements Are Forged at the Edges
There is a kind of belonging that cannot be programmed. It forms in places of uncertainty when people step beyond what they know, together, and discover that obedience to Jesus costs more than comfort but gives more than safety ever could.
In the language of sociology, and in the language of movements, those places are called liminal. And the bond that forms on the other side is called communitas.
In this week’s episode of the 100Movements podcast, we explored element of mDNA alongside two friends from the Tampa Underground—Stacey Gaskins and Tommy Wilkerson.
The Threshold Is Where Formation Happens
Liminality is a threshold space. It’s the experience of being between, no longer who you were, and not yet who you will become. In Scripture, these are wilderness moments. In movements, they are moments of risk, disruption, and obedience without guarantees.
Liminality is uncomfortable by design. It destabilizes familiar identities and invites deeper dependence on God. It is where faith is tested, not theoretically but existentially.
What became clear in the conversation is that liminality is rarely sought out intentionally, but it is often recognized in hindsight.
College years.
Cross-cultural mission.
Stepping into injustice without expertise.
Leaving systems that no longer align with the kingdom you’ve tasted.
And liminality is rarely meant to be endured alone.
Communitas Is Not Community as We Know It
When people walk through liminal spaces together, something deeper than “community” forms. Communitas is a bond forged through shared risk, shared obedience, and shared dependence on God.
Communitas is why people can go years without seeing one another and still speak in shorthand the moment they reunite. It’s why certain stories immediately bring laughter, gravity, or tears. It’s why some seasons of mission leave marks that never fade.
As Stacey described in the episode, many of the most defining microchurch moments in Tampa emerged not from polished plans but from imperfect obedience, entering broken spaces without clarity, learning as they went, and discovering on the other side that God had bound them together in ways no curriculum could replicate.
Communitas doesn’t come from shared values alone. It comes from shared vulnerability in the presence of God.
Liminality will always feel risky. Communitas will always feel rare. But together, they form the soil where movements take root. And perhaps the question for us is not whether we believe in these ideas, but whether we are willing, once again, to step into the threshold together.