Rewind life about three months ago and I was having a perplexing conversation with Lucas. We had already decided that I would be spending the summer months up in Canada, but because of his medical training, he'd be rotating between various cities in Ontario. So, I could either go up and stay in Ottawa and see him on weekends, or go up and follow him around. We chose the latter, but then had to figure out places for me to stay, because a month-long hotel stay would deplete my already-low bank account.
"We'll just write churches and ask them to take you in. Someone will show up," he suggested quite optimistically in my mind.
"We'll... just... write... churches?" I was quite skeptical. What church would respond to the email of a young medical student asking for a place to stay for his girlfriend... for a month? A stranger, no less.
Not even a week before I was flying out, and we had one of the cities figured out. Lucas had a friend who had an empty bedroom in Ottawa. Good. One for three. We had Googled "Churches in (fill in the blank) and sent over a dozen emails to churches in each city. So far, nothing was turning up. I felt like I was out on a limb and I needed a church to come through.
And sure enough, we received a friendly email from First Presbyterian Church in Pembroke, where I was welcomed into the minister's home for a month. He and his wife were fabulously lovely and hospitable. I was blown away by their generousity and their desire to encourage me and Lucas in our relationship. Their congregation was incredibly friendly and we felt extremely welcomed. My parents even came up to visit us one week and they simply pulled out another bed in the basement and accommodated my parents for a week as well. Their genuine love was lavished upon us in staggering amounts.
We left Pembroke truly blessed.
Now, in Cornwall, Pastor Brad had emailed his congregation asking if anyone was willing to take me in for three weeks. A sweet mother replied affirmatively and made room for me in her home. I've been living with her and her daughter for the last week and have been flabbergasted by their true desire to make me feel at home. My strawberries went bad before I ate them, so they threw them out and bought me new ones. Their sweetness has warmed my heart.
Now, Lucas and I have been talking about this summer and how amazing it is that people have simply opened their homes to me. Mind you, their homes aren't extravagant with decked-out guest bedrooms. They have often been modest homes, but their desire to be hospitable has been overwhelmingly evident. They prove that you don't need a big home to open it up and let others invade your space.
I think of the early church and I think this is what it would have been like. Someone is in need. Someone makes space. The end.
But why are open doors and open fridges and open homes so odd in our modern framework? Sure, we'll invite friends over, but strangers? Why is it so shocking to so many people that I'm actually living in Canada with people from churches we emailed? I'll be the first to admit... it shocked me. But it worked.
I want this life. I don't want to be protective of my space, constantly guarding my places. I want to allow my space to be invaded by people in need.
Oh, that someone would be in need. Oh that I would make space.
The end.
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