Source: wanelo.com via Sarah on Pinterest
The doorbell is ringing. Again.
There are small hands banging on my front door. Again.
And the baby has been startled awake from her nap. Again.
The neighbourhood kids all like to hang out at my house. I am less than thrilled about it.
—–
Years ago, when I first stumbled into the missional church conversation, before it was Christian-marketing-speak or a buzz-word, I felt like I had come home to my people. This was my tribe. Yeah! Now I had labels, names, books, a vocabulary and lexicon, leaders, theologians, and co-conspirators for what was already stirring in my heart about the message and life of Jesus. I yearned to experience the truth of Christ and then bring that truth into my daily walking-around life.
It sounded sexy and exciting. I wanted to be part of making space for God in the world, I wanted to be part of God’s mission to restore and redeem and renew creation. I read and underlined all of the books, downloaded podcasts, I wrote and waxed philosophic about discipleship, about the theology of place, about community, sustainability, intentional organic church practices, justice, mercy, redemption, I was seeking an active and inclusive living out of the Jesus-life I knew right now.
And over the years, as I’ve been committed to missional life in actual practice rather than theory, a life that seeks to be outside of structures and institutions and programs and models, centered on embodying the mission of God, my life has gotten considerably more messy and uncomfortable.
Sometimes this has involved serving and supporting the poor and homeless. Sometimes it’s helping to provide ID cards to marginalized African women with my friends. Sometimes it’s been how I live my life and raise my babies. Sometimes it’s been writing letters to government about human trafficking, speaking up in a dozen small ways. Sometimes it’s been intercessory prayer. Sometimes it’s been building websites and writing newsletters for a local residential home for women with life-controlling issues. Sometimes it’s been giving my money away. Sometimes it’s been eye-contact and long conversations and prayer with the people right here in my town. Sometimes it’s been social media. Sometimes it’s been writing a book. Sometimes it’s been changing my mind and opinions in response to the Holy Spirit’s leading. Sometimes it’s been opening my home, practicing radical hospitality, washing sheets, making meals for the sick. Sometimes it’s been remembering to make space for God in my life. (Lately, it’s been a gradual re-entry to intentional Christian community, tentative but hopeful.)
Sometimes this whole “living a missional life” thing has been simplifying and exhilarating.
Sometimes it’s been complicated, weird, and uncomfortable.
But it’s always been transformative.
—–
These days, it feels like my doorbell is always ringing after school, and my front street always has a half dozen kids, hollering and laughing and shrieking, hurtling down the small hill on their scooters. My ears are filled with the usual squabbles of kids, toy-taking freak outs, whose-turn-is-it-negotiating, we-don’t-say-those-words admonishments.
My first instinct – I admit it, even after all this missional life living stuff – was to cocoon and withdraw. These neighbourhood kids have very different standards and rules and home-life. I wanted to take my two older tinies into the house, not allow them to play with these ever-present, rather inappropriately dressed, potty-mouthed kids. I wanted to protect them, to hide them, to erect a tall fence. I wanted my life to be untouched. I resented the doorbell ringing past bedtime, the constant chatter of free-range kids, and little girl voices singing pop songs about grinding up on their guy.
What would Love want to do here?
As always, it’s pretty simple. My husband just heads outside with everyone. He works in the garage, like he usually does on a Saturday, and sometimes he puts them to work, and he always supervises their play. “Our yard, our rules,” he says seriously and they nod and (try to) obey. They stayed for four hours one Saturday, playing in our sandbox, carefully minding our rules, and no adult came to check on them or make sure that they were safe or that we were trust-worthy, I tried really hard not be judgemental about that. (I failed miserably.) I brought everyone water to drink, snacks to eat. We still maintained boundaries, wouldn’t allow them in our home without permission, kept groups together, and sent them home for supper, sometimes we just said nope, we’re just having a family afternoon today, maybe tomorrow, head home. I have learned to hang a sign on the door when the baby is napping, they know when every one goes to bed here. But they keep coming back.
Two of the little girls trail behind me after school most days, to tell me their stories, all of the “here’s what happened at school today” stuff that kids like to tell an adult in their life. I set up a lawn chair, and bring the baby outside, hand everyone sunscreen. One little boy has sad eyes and he hardly ever speaks, but he watches my husband work around the yard, trotting after him in the garage, watching every move he makes. When I greet the girls by their names, every day, they look up, surprised, for some reason. One day, when they left their hoodies behind, I carefully washed and folded and left the clothing on the bottom step for the next day. I touched one girl’s back lightly, told I was glad she was here. She said, Me, too, I like it here.
It feels sometimes like it would be simpler to live in a Christian ghetto, to shut the door, build a fence, keep the big, bad, scary world at bay, especially when it comes to my tinies. And sometimes we can buy into the idea that ministry is for the professionals, for somewhere other than here, right where we are in our walking-around life, like the Gospel doesn’t have hands and feet and voices, right here, right now, in our own neighbourhoods, in big ways and small ways.
At first, when the doorbell rang, I rolled my eyes, I stomped down the stairs, resented the intrusions. But as the days went by, and my husband continued to welcome them without fanfare or fuss, I had to wonder, what does it mean to follow Jesus, if it doesn’t mean loving a few lonely little kids in my own neighbourhood?
You say it so beautifully. The way you write out life, it sounds like church right there on your street.
I totally love that you washed the girls’ hoodies! #Holdmymamaheart
Me thinks your husband and my husband should meet.
When Scott washes the car, all the kids come out for a waterfight … with hoses and buckets and garbage can lids. There’s also water balloon fights. The latest is dragging all my “laundry bins” outside and filling them with warm water, so it’s like kiddy hot tubs all over our yard for when they are shivering from the hose. I might not love it so much when every swimming towel is wet and heavy and every toy form our garage is strewn on the grass, but they can’t wait to get outside on sunny days and weekends. And I have to give myself a few good shakes about what is really really important.
That is a fantastic idea, Idelette! I love that. (And I love I’m not alone in my struggles.)
I was gripped by your story – beautiful writing, absolutely, but what really grabbed me was the question of our willingness to be ‘inconvenienced’ for the sole purpose of being the hands and feet of Christ. It’s so much easier and safer and quieter and more orderly to retreat. But that’s not what we’re called to do or be. Cheering you on, and reminding myself of what’s most important. Thank you.
I love what you, Sarah, wrote and I love what Pamela has added. Inconvenienced seems to be my middle name. Thank you for reminding me that everything can be an act of Love. That sometimes my acts of Love need to inconvenience me so someone else can be comfortable.
Inconvenienced for the purpose of being the hands and feet of Christ – that’ll preach, Pamela. Thank you.
Thank you, Sarah! You use your gift of writing to challenge us to open our hearts to our world. When we connect our hearts to God, He leads us in wonderful, simple ways. Thank you for being salt and light in your neighbourhood and for challenging us to do the same.
Love this. It’s so easy to romanticize community. The reality. The grind of it. The everyday ceaselessness of it (especially for introverts like us) is anything but romantic. Beautiful, beautiful post.
You’re right – just like marriage, romance has its place but there is also the daily reality of loving and being loved through the years. Good, good point, Addie.
I found it so much easier to revel in missional community before I had a kid…
We have some teenagers in our neighborhood who are seen as troublemakers. But my husband has befriended them and they actually came running down their driveway to tell him what sports teams they made. Because even teenagers, perhaps especially teenagers, need an adult who cares.
I agree – when it’s just me, I can manage. But having tinies threw a few wrenches into my plans. I haven’t always handled it well or according to my plans but even in that, there has been grace.
This is a beautiful post. It will stay with me and help me to reflect on the ways I let people into my life. How wonderful that instead of lecturing about how to love your neighbor your husband quietly practiced God’s commandment and led by his example. And how wonderful that you noticed!
I had to say a quick prayer of confession because you showed me the mirror of my own life. Thank you! My wife and I have conversations daily on what to do and how to handle the neighborhood kids. In following Jesus, I find the most difficult thing is trying to be open, hospitable, and willing to be inconvienced. Truly living our faith is incredibly difficult. I appreciate that you don’t surgar-coat living a Christian life as too many do. It doesn’t mean prosperity, it doesn’t mean happiness everyday every moment, it doesn’t mean that bad things won’t happen; indeed as you rightly said, it means messiness and being uncomfortable, and living in the realities of life.
very touched by Sarah’s stories. Derek’s sharing is also inspiring! thanks!
“Willing to be inconvenienced” – ain’t that the truth, Derek! Thank you.
My eyes are filled with tears.
The beauty of Jesus in you, Sarah. Look at what He’s done.
Oh, Sarah. This is beautiful. Loving can be such messy work. It does us good to remember why we love in the first place. It probably opens our eyes to the transformation you speak of as well. Those kids are so blessed to have you and your family in their lives- what a shot of light touching into whatever sadness they’ve faced.
Tears…it’s so true. Sometime it’s so unglamorous and ordinary and difficult, but the rewards are immense even when we only see glimpses.
I was a child who was often “adopted” by other women through my parents divorce when they simply had no time. Each of these women who stepped in and were just present, hold a very dear place in my heart as a gift from God, to help me become the woman and mom I am today.
That makes my heart both ache and sing, Jenn. I have a beloved family member that has a very similar story, she often talks about “Mrs. Ross” who always loved her and welcomed her, it was her only glimpses of a Christian family. I think I’d like to be that for someone, too.
I admire you, Sarah, for doing this. In my heart, I know that’s what these kids need, the ones in your neighbourhood and the ones in mine. I haven’t been able to see it like this, though I knew I needed to.
Thank you for sharing this.
Well, it was a process – and I am still figuring out practicalities of this stuff, too.
Beautiful words Sarah, as always. I get irritated by the ringing doorbells (especially since they only seem to happen during nap times on particularly tough days!). Love how God shows us our own little ministries, even as we may be dreaming of our own ‘bigger’ ones.
I know, right? Always during nap time! Rats.
You have a most beautiful way of writing. And a most interesting way of communicating importance.
Thanks.
amen…that is what following Christ is about….reaching your community by simply living and sharing…
I do think that husband of yours is a hero-man. Yeah, I do. This is lovely writing, as usual, Sarah. And I thank you for admitting that this stuff is tough to do, tough to live. Thank you for all of it – for being a safe place, for teaching boundaries, for struggling to find the middle way – hospitality AND quiet, cocoon times. All of it looks like Jesus.
I think he’s a hero, too, Diana. Thanks for saying that.
I have so, so, so, so been there and thought all the same things you’ve thought in each situation. I, too, have a gentle husband who reminds me by example to open my heart and mind and arms to the neighborhood. And I’m tearing down the fences, one post at a time. Thank you for this, if only to encourage me to keep doing it.
I love this. I struggle with how to respond when the few children there are in our neighborhood have such DIFFERENT values than the ones I want to instill in my own children. And yet, I have sensed from the moment I quit work to stay home with my children that THIS would be my mission field. And so far I’m not doing a great job at it and I’m struggling to love them and still raise and protect my children, so I need to hear this and I need to remember it and someday maybe I’ll get this mission field right.
Sarah, thank you. This is exactly what I needed to hear on this I-don’t-want-to-do-this-anymore day. Something about seeing my own heart in print was the shoulder shake I needed. Thank you for rescuing me from my whining and selfishness. Again.
I so hear you on wanting to hide your kids from the bump-and-grind lyrics and bad language even as you expose them to the dirt and grime of life outside your walls. It’s hard, especially when your babies are old enough to hear but too young to process the differences. I worry about exposing my kids to the things I can’t hide them from in poor apartment complexes or our own neighborhood, in which we are around freerange children quite a bit. When we moved here, we had these dewy-eyed visions of our children being the minority in the public school, but the reality is so much harder than we imagined. But it is also, as you so eloquently demonstrate, so, so, so much richer than a sheltered life in a “Christian ghetto.” I’m so glad you wrote this today–it makes me feel better about the things my kids are exposed to so often!
Ah, love with boundaries. Wise words.
It’s crazy what a child hubs can do to our frazzle-mama hearts sometimes. I love knowing the evolution of this for you. xoxo
that should say “chilled” not child hubs! ha!
I was one of those kids who was loved to Jesus by people like you. Thank you.
YES! oh how I love your heart, Sarah…
Thank you for tangibly writing out what the “missional church” looks like. My church loves to use that word and most of the congregants have no idea what it means. In some ways it’s sad that we need a new word – shouldn’t followers of Christ understand that they need to be open to letting God’s love flow through them to the people who need it? But since that’s the reality we live in, I am grateful that you are willing to be open in your life and in writing.
Ohhhh, Sarah. I struggle with this, too, so very very much. We have a lot of these kids in our neighborhood too, though there is one in particular that I feel a strong calling toward – he is 12 and is more feral than free-range. (His mom actually admitted to me once, that she never wanted him a and honestly, that explained a lot!) I am trying to build a relationship with him, but I struggle with boundaries a lot. Also,I work from home, while I care for my 4 and 2 year olds. And it is so hard, because it seems there is NEVER a good time, and I am annoyed with him far often than I am loving toward him, and I hate myself when I do that…. My husband is definitely not paeticularly supportive of it, though – he is still learning how to be kind and a good Daddy to our own kids, as his father was NOT a good role model in that regard. I would love to talk further with you and others here who are doing this kind of thing, for suggestions on ways to do it better…
This is Christianity in action, Sarah. Living out our Christian faith, not just paying tribute to it with words. Beautiful living, beautiful writing!
One of the most exhausting things for me about living in China is that there are people in our apartment almost all the time. Whether it’s a househelper, our foster son’s ayi, a tutor, a friend, people here to study…it seems that people are either coming or going. Honestly, I love to see them come and I love to see them go. It’s been stretching taken me out of hospitality as an ideal into real spiritual practice.
decades ago, i was the only mom on our street who was at home. i did exactly what you’re doing now. we were the LIGHT on our street. my kids grew up bringing their lonely little friends home after school for cookies and milk and supervised playtime. it was my mission field. later, after we really did move to the mission field, i missed those days. they were better. and to this day some of those kids email me and are following jesus. SHINE.
I’ve been challenged by this same ideal, which encompasses the whole love thy neighbor thing. I’ve had to put up boundaries with neighborhood kids in some ways, but figure out how to still be welcoming. It’s challenging, especially for me, because I like a lot of quiet alone time and don’t get that much at all with three kids, so how can I always be available for the neighborhood kids too?
It is great to have children around. We live in a street where the turn-over of children is big, so they can differ from year to year. 2 summers ago we regularly had children from 3 families in our garden and home to play. Now we just have one family that call around a lot. I gave up trying to not do other things when they were here as they can be around every night.
We have built up a relationship with them (I also work at the same school as they attend) and we use humour a lot. Most often they just play out in the garden with my children but when the weather is bad they come in. Sometimes, we have all played board games together.
I buy cheap squash and biscuits during the summer months so I can keep them supplied with food but they often come with stuff of their own. And then leave the rubbish in my garden. (Insert gritty teeth smily here.)
God calls each one of us to work for Him in different ways and different places. It is great to read this post. Keep going with it as we never know what they may learn from us.
Wow, I thought it was just me! I’m all about loving kiddos for Jesus…except the lightly parented, free range kids that ring my door bell at 7 am or 9:30 pm, want to eat all my food, and teach my children all sorts of fun new vocabulary words (as if they didn’t already know them!). It’s funny, I tend to think the rules and boundaries are going to run them off, but I think they, like most kids, crave the structure. Guess I’ll have to come up with something else to run them off! The thing I come back to in this, as in most things, is be who I’ve been called to be, be the family we’ve been called to be, not what those around us expect us to be. Thanks for this post.
Thank you Sarah. Great words…. and now I’m off to brainstorm some strategy to connect with the lovely teenagers that walk by my house on the way home from school and toss cigarette butts on my lawn. *sigh*
wow- definitely made me tear up. We moved into our house last August and have had very similar experiences. Except it is just the 3 kids next door who are being raised by their two great uncles and dad. The kids and the dad all sleep in the living room because the two great uncles have the only two bedrooms in the house. My husband is the EXACT same way- constantly having more grace, patience, and mercy then I do. They have NO boundaries, have stolen from us, broke our car window with a hard baseball (after we bought them tennis balls so that wouldn’t happen), badger me with questions as soon as I pull in the driveway when all I want to do is get in the house and relax after a full day of working with mentally ill people, come over to “help” but don’t listen to any instruction and just make it longer and more difficult to finish the task, and “greet” every visitor we have with the third degree! I’m sure I left out a few things but the moral of the story is that God placed us in this house, next to those kids, to love them ESPECIALLY when they don’t deserve that. Sometimes it is being the only person in their lives who will be a good role model, offer forgiveness to teach them grace when all I want to do is “make them pay” or cut them out of our lives completely (the 300 dollar car window replacement almost did it to me). Then the added pressure that I am the only positive female in their lives. So they are drawn to my husband but I realize how crucial a role I play. God has spoken to my heart repeatedly that he asks me to be selfless all the time not some of the time and his work is not done when I leave my office.
Anyways, all that rambling to say… I feel ya and God is doing great things through us in those kids lives.
So sad that there are so many kids who don’t get the love and attention they deserve at home, yet so glad that you recognize the incredible value of being and listening.
So glad to see that both you and your husband have discovered how your lives can be a blessing. It sometimes seems that we men often aren’t so good at knowing how to just ‘be’ and in that way be the valuable role model and support that others need.
But the thing that hit me most was the whole thing of being inconvenienced. That is so true, and in all kinds of situations. The most important things seem to happen at the most inopportune times. Thanks for the encouragement to be keep working at it.
I shared a link to your post on my blog. I loved your authenticity and honesty. I take care of about 100 kids 3x a week for a few hours. My team and I listen, play games, read to them, fix hurt knees, and pray with and for them. And my kids knock on the door, too, sometimes hours before we start. I always have a hard time saying no, wait until the “program” opens. And it’s even more difficult to shoo them away towards homes that are often bereft of care, love, food, or even a decent roof. God bless you!
My husband is much better at this than I am. He’s the one out in the garage, with all of the kids running about.
I like the “our yard, our rules” thing. We have a very similar scenario on our street. Some of the kids just venture over without supervision – even tiny ones. Like you, we want to “maintain boundaries”…but we also want to care for the people around us (including the lonely kids who long for somebody to know their names).
Thanks for the challenge, Sarah Bessey. You are remarkable.