Come In This House
"All the believers were together and had everything in common....they broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God..."
The believers were together. They broke bread together. They were sincere with each other.
Where did it go? How do we find ourselves alone and lacking deep relationships?
As much as we hate to admit it, it doesn't really have much to do with our busy schedules.
Rather, it's because opening our homes and inviting other people in makes us vulnerable.
Our houses, our yards, the food we put on the table--- we see them all as a reflection of ourselves. And it's a scary thing to put ourselves on display, with all our weaknesses and imperfections. It's easier to hole up, keep the circle small, meet people at a restaurant for dinner, or skip the family mingling all together and just stick with the occasional lunch date while the kids are at school.
But, what we miss out on is the sharing of life. The sense of being a part of a circle of friends who really know each other. The ability to say, "I'm not perfect, but I'll share who I am with you. I'll not only invite you in, but I'll also step into your life without passing judgment on your imperfections. I'll choose not to feed myself on the table that holds the wound from the last time I tried to go deep, and I'll learn with you how to live life in transparent friendship."
The day I took my family to a friend's house and stepped out to see the girls having their tea party in the back of the old family pick-up truck, something grabbed at my heart and I started snapping pictures, desperate to capture the moment.
Days later, as I pondered the images, it struck me. I could do this.
I could choose to invite people into my world without having to perfect my world first. I could share what I have in the moment without worrying that it's not enough.
I could seize every opportunity to see my friends laugh at my table instead of waiting until they'll be impressed by my domestic skills, which might very well mean I would wait forever.
I could offer myself like tea in a mason jar, and we can grow to be porcelain together.