Blog Layout

SUSPENDED MOMENTS

Jon Bergmann • Apr 10, 2020

Like the final note of a song that refuses to draw to an end, the Saturday in between Good Friday and Easter Sunday is the liminal space in which our pain and confusion hangs, suspended, wondering what will come next. 

A lot of people remarked yesterday (Good Friday) that because of all of the chaos going on in the world, people would be better able to engage with the suffering presented through the message of the cross. To be honest, I think that today is a more relevant metaphor for where we all find ourselves: suspended in time, waiting for some ethereal future to present itself, knowing very little about how we got here and what tomorrow will look like.

Even the biblical imagery is similar. We’re all locked away in our homes, afraid to go outside. The day after Jesus’ death his disciples were doing the same, albeit for slightly different reasons. They were shut away from the world, asking themselves what in the world they’re supposed to do now. 

I wonder if there is anything to learn in these awkward and uncomfortable moments.

I hate ambiguity. It’s one of the things I struggle with the most, and there is nothing more ambiguous than the place we currently find ourselves resting in. This year has been an interesting one for me personally. The launching of the Centre for Faith and Life was an exciting way to begin 2020, but it wasn’t well received by everyone and so by March I found myself leaving my job. I decided that for the next season in life I would do something I've always wanted to do and so I began work starting up a small training business – about two weeks before the global pandemic. 

Like many others around the world, all of the events I had planned, the conferences I was speaking at and the work that was lined up suddenly disappeared and I was left wondering what was going to happen next.

I’ve spent the last ten years or so being incredibly busy. Marriage, work, kids, houses etc. the list of things which occupy space in our lives is endless, and the last decade was a flurry of frenetic activity. I slowed down a little bit toward the end of 2019 but now in 2020 I’ve found myself at home every day, with very little paid work to be busying myself with and all the time in the universe. 

Like many of you, I had grand plans for this time. I was going to read books, produce a TONNE of content which would keep me going for years, write and publish a couple of books, work out A LOT, and grow exponentially in every single area of life. I basically pictured myself coming out of isolation as a ripped, spiritually enlightened business guru with three already published books. 

The reality? The ambiguity of life, the transition from working for someone to working for myself, and the generally jarring experience of the last few months has meant that I’ve felt lethargic, bored and mostly uninspired. All my plans and dreams are suspended, it would seem, waiting for something to happen before everything goes back to normal. To be honest this has really frustrated me at times. I want to just “click into gear” and start getting stuff done, but at the same time I’m learning (slowly) that there is something to be understood in the curious in-between spaces of life. 

Whilst I want everything to be clear and simple, I also know that life isn’t actually like that. Life is complicated, grey, and ambiguous at the best of times and whilst leaning forward with intention is important it might also pay for us to – every now and again – embrace the moments that are less than defined. 

These are the moments when we are not exactly in control, and if you’re anything like me that is a terrifying place to find yourself. But if we can transition from terrified to liberated and begin to believe that being in control might not be everything, we might just realise that it is in the suspense, that the magic happens. 

You see, wisdom moves slowly. In our world of fast paced content and knowledge saturation sometimes we need a suspended moment to allow the depth of life to embed itself into our being. It’s an uncomfortable feeling for sure, but it’s a part of the maturity of growing into ourselves as well. 

I don’t really know what the future holds. For me, or for any of us.
But I’m genuinely not worried. 

A lot of people are saying that nothing will ever be the same again. Perhaps they’re right, although that’s hardly news. Plenty of things have reshaped our world across the years. Whatever comes tomorrow though, be thankful for today. For it’s in these suspended moments that we are given the opportunity to realise that whatever tomorrow looks like, it’s who we are when we step into it that truly matters. 
By Ruth Langmead 23 Dec, 2021
Sometimes, we categorise people out of Gods kingdom because they don’t meet the brief, they don’t fit our preconceived ideas and expectations. So, this Christmas, when I put my nativity in pride of place to celebrate “the King has Come”, I am reminded that a King didn’t come, at least not in the eyes of all those waiting on one. The nativity was the ultimate Kris Kringle (maybe the first!), where we quite simply don’t know what to expect and should always be prepared for a surprise, but it will be a gift.
By Jon Bergmann 21 Oct, 2021
For something new to grow, something else must fade. Death isn’t just the end of life it’s also the beginning.
By Brian Harris 14 Oct, 2021
St John of the Cross wrote: “If a man wishes to be sure of the road he treads on, he must close his eyes and walk in the dark.” When we can’t see, and can’t make any sense of things, keeping on can be the deepest form of trust. It can serve a profound purpose, for the dark night of the soul is sometimes the space between who we have been and who we will become.
More Posts
Share by: