There are many words that can be used to describe magic, Spontaneity It might be at the front of the list.
I wouldn't call myself a social butterfly. I'm the oldest of 12 children. We were homeschooled, and I lived with the Amish for three years when I was a teenager. All my best friends were pen pals. I didn't play sports or have sleepovers. I went to work, slaughtered countless chickens with Amish girls, and canned applesauce and pickled okra.
Home has become a stage for Instagram portraits, and I want to reclaim it as a sanctuary…a step towards heaven.
I never learned the phrase, “Text first.”
We didn't have cell phones back then. My mom had one, but it was always off. So people would just drop in and stay for a while… a few days, a few weeks, a month or two. We would be surprised if they came and then just left without having a meal with us. There was always a lot to share and nothing was planned.
Every once in a while, girls my age would drop by and spend the afternoon with us. I couldn't interrupt my chores just because a friend was coming over, so we'd chat and plant broccoli together, or make eggnog and popcorn for everyone, or clean up the pile of repairs. We never just sat down to visit, and I still can't. Being able to see what I was working on made it feel less awkward when the conversation stalled.
Eventually I had my own home, my own schedule, and my own phone. But I lived outside of cell phone coverage, so “text me first” remained an unprogrammed part of my vocabulary. I met lots of friends at literary and music events. I gave them my phone number, but told them “don't call,” and gave them directions to where I lived. Every time I thought it would be quiet tonight, a bunch of people would show up.
Sometimes I had to swallow the feeling, “I want this night to be peaceful.” I felt joy when I hugged these unexpected visitors and sat down to talk over tea. I forgot about myself and my needs and felt that God was blessing me, my home, and these visitors. They would leave saying, “When I come to your home, I feel like I'm taking a break from the world. Thank you so much for opening your door to me.”
I want friends and strangers to come to my home and find what they've been looking for in a church. I want them to be seen and heard, nourished and nurtured. I want a place for them to air their questions. When I see them fidgeting, I want to offer them a knitting needle and ask, “Would you like to learn?”
Home has become a stage for Instagram portraits. I want to reclaim it as a sanctuary, a step towards heaven. A haven for colds, heartaches and cravings. They say home is where the heart is, and a beautiful heart is always open.
I don't think this is a job for a select few. I think we are all called to spontaneous hospitality. The gospel is not for extroverts or introverts; it is the same for all of us. It doesn't matter if your house is clean; keep it clean. rear The guests depart.
We are all called to sacrifice, to love our neighbors, and for all to be our neighbors, and to live in faith, not fear, in what and who God brings to us, always waiting with open arms saying, “Thy will be done.”
There's nothing nicer than opening the door and having a friend standing there, inviting them in, offering them a drink, and inviting them to join you in what you're doing… whether you've thoroughly cleaned under the overturned sofa, finished toasting a loaf of bread, or cleared away a pile of papers so they can sit down. It doesn't matter if you're ready, if the floor needs mopping, or if there's nothing to eat.
The beautiful thing about spontaneous kindness is that it erases all flaws and pride, paving the way for the gospel to flourish in our neighborhoods, and people who may never have gone to church eventually get to experience the power of the Holy Spirit.
