small things …. whereby we minister

Hey, that’s not yours.

That gift? God gave it to you.

That possession? Yeah, that’s from God.

That home? That ability? That breath?

All such things are gifts, are grace, are merely ours to steward as God assigns us.

When hubs and I were looking for a place to live here, we wanted to continue what we’d loved doing in San Francisco – opening our home to our community and those who needed a place to rest. Since we could afford more space here in Seattle, we really wanted to find something that would let us easily host, whether dinner or overnights. We found a rather decent rental house and applied for it immediately.

While we waited, we mulled over the two options we had: this one, and a much smaller house near the beach on the Sound. They were essentially the same rent but represented two disparate ways of doing life. One had a yard, one didn’t. One had three bedrooms, one had one. One had easy interstate access, one had private beach access. One was spacious, one was cozy (in a good way). One would require us to furnish it, the other would require us to pare down. We were truly torn, and we didn’t hear clearly from God one way or the other.

But then we recalled what we believe is part of God’s purpose for us. To give a home to people. So for ease of access and for comfort of space for all who came, we chose the big house. We also knew family would be visiting and would need room, and when we start a family of our own it’ll be nice to have some flexibility.

Often I pine for that simpler option in the trees, at the end of the road, with a beach nearby. It seemed so easy to make it a refuge, like it was built with that in mind. But instead I received the challenge of turning a big, empty house into a place of rest with character and joy.

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We love our house. It’s a handful. It’s the first time we’ve had this much space, with a garden and a yard to manage. It does serve as a retreat for us from the city and the work day, but often I notice myself wanting to just keep it for us. Home is so intimate, and sometimes when other people are there, it feels less restful, especially if you don’t know one another well. Lots of times I just want to crash and hoard this thing and keep the space quiet and not play the host anymore. Because I’m tired, okay?

And then God reminds me that it’s not mine.

What privilege it is to temporarily use any housing, much less this house on this lot. Who am I to withhold its quiet, its natural light, its embrace from those who might benefit? There are periods of resting for me, but they’re often not when I prefer them to be. God has a way of employing us to meet each other’s needs, and if He uses us to provide for someone else, He will surely provide for us in His time.

I’m reading Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer for the Nth time, and I just finished the chapter on Ministry. One of the sub-sections is about the “ministry of helpfulness,” which is basically just actively offering assistance where needed, even in small/humble/mundane things. Ready for a little conviction? Or maybe it’s just me.

“We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God. God will be constantly crossing our paths and canceling our plans by sending us people with claims and petitions.” “But it is part of the discipline of humility that we must not spare our hand where it can perform a service and that we do not assume that our schedule is our own to manage, but allow it to be arranged by God.”¹

This is just what we do …. what we ought to do. In the next section, the “ministry of bearing” means to bear another’s burdens, to “suffer and endure the brother.”  When you hesitate at genuinely accepting, welcoming another, along with all their quirks, weaknesses, conflicts, faults, sins, annoyances… just remember how insufferable you are. 😉 Think how others have loved you in spite of yourself, and then think how Jesus does that perfectly, although He Himself has no sin. We can only do this because Christ bore us all first.²

“None must seek his own rights.”³ Rather, says Bonhoeffer, it is a privilege to bear with each other, for here we see God’s grace all the clearer, and thereby we “preserve fellowship with him [the brother] through forgiveness.”³

And in the best case scenario, we’re in a community where others bear us just as we bear them, so that we live out the love God gives us in the mundane, the messy, the plain annoying stuff people (we) do, the odd way they (we) are.

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These two ministries collide for me in the ministry of hospitality. For where there is a need we see for a home, we have one, and it is up to God. And despite my tiredness and irritability, God gives us guests to love, and we get to bear with them.

Reader, there is such joy in this. I don’t know why, but God seems to have designed me so that, despite my occasional/frequent weariness, I can’t help it – I want people here. If a week has gone by and we haven’t hosted someone in some way, we have started to consider that somewhat unacceptable and we try to plan it.

Ever since we moved here, we have gone probably no more than a few weeks without overnight guests who stay for several days at least. We have one now, a friend from San Francisco! We are so glad to have him with us as he looks for housing – what an opportunity to know him better and deepen our friendship.

Y’all, sometimes don’t you just want the things all to yourself, just for a little while? Me too. It takes God’s strength to continue giving away. But home is never just for us, and with God being so intent on using it, we can be sure He will provide the strength and the joy.

It is a true honour to help and to bear.

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1 … Bonhoeffer, p. 99

2 … Isaiah 53:4-5

3 … Bonhoeffer, p. 102

Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. Life Together. HarperOne. 1954.

of us, with no home

I gave a sandwich to a homeless woman tonight and it didn’t matter.

She had homelessness in her eyes and while a sandwich maybe startled her melancholy, it didn’t change those eyes and what they know to be true. They were so deep, wells of resignation and anguish. And how do I singlehandedly pull her out? And how do I descend with her?

But I just gave her a sandwich and her name is Ernestine.

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I care so much about Home, yet I think so rarely about those who have no such reality. They are even starkly labeled by that thing they lack. It becomes entirely who they are to everyone else, and maybe to themselves. How little this does justice to who they are – how one dimensional and shallow a name, yet how profound and hopeless still.

It says too much and too little.

There is work to be done in this realm that overwhelms me with its vastness. This realm of homelessness, like a knot with all its complications and links that are hard to trace, like a knot with strings that unravel and break before you can solve it. There is work here, and yet – peace, friends. For though we are to meet the needs of the needy, yet Jesus first met the deepest need and became, Himself, their Home. Our Home.

He offered Himself as our shelter and protection from the wrath that sin necessitates. No matter where you live, we’re all on equal footing there; no one shelters themselves, but grace is given.

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Oh what anguish abounds, Ernestine, what discomfort to endure when you have no home, no place to rest your head and your bones. No place for renewal and feasting, for gathering and for knitting together. To thrive without this is impossible.

But. Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.¹ There is one who came to settle the knot, to settle the debt. He endured the very same as you, as me. And we rejected Him, we contested Him. And then He loved us still and gave us Himself for our renewal, for our fullness. And I don’t know how to pull anyone out of any well, but Jesus can do what a sandwich could never. He can fill to the brim and then some, and He can rescue in such a permanent way.

First, my soul, recall that you too were without a home, and then Jesus fed you and He keeps you still.

Remember, and do ye likewise.²

He regards the prayer of the destitute
    and does not despise their prayer.³

1 … Luke 9:58

2 … Matthew 25:35

3 … Psalm 102:17

on seeing myself

This is something I wrote nearly a year ago. I just found it again. And still, it just fits.

Today I have realized. I am not quite who I want to be. Today is less about career and future-focus. It’s more about the present and what I want more of right now.

I want to be someone who talks to God and listens to Him. I want to know Him deeply and invest in that relationship daily, moment-ly.

I want to simplify living, not taking on too much or making lists too long. Not taking in too much.

I want to give of myself freely and hold onto things lightly with open hands.

Life is not about a reputation. But I want to be known as one who lives richly because of content, not because of matter. As someone who sits at the feet of Jesus in adoration, and believes that’s enough. I want to be known for it because that means it’s that obvious.

I want to take myself less seriously and walk in confidence in my identity. I want to revel in my weakness because it shows off God’s strength. And I want to learn to improve and grow.

I want to start every day reminding myself that God’s glory is the Thing.

If I do nothing else. If I fail at every turn, every career attempt. If I lose in the human race for gain and glory. If I just suck in general. Let me do this. Let me thrive on His mercy and go after the one needful thing.¹

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To gaze upon the beauty of the Lord.²

1 … Luke 10:42

2 … Psalm 27:4