Belonging Begets Belonging
I’m sharing some further thoughts on belonging this week, exploring what it means to be the church to each other in our particular locations as the people of Christ. Thank you for joining me in this!
“How about yo play?” he hollered from across the fence. Several beats of silence ensued. “The Yoplait kind of yogurt?” he clarified in response to my quizzical look.
It took me a few seconds to realize that my neighbor—a caterer with a significant amount of local food hookups—was offering me yet another case of free yogurt, this time from a different brand.
“Sure!” I said brightly, wondering where we would fit this new case of yogurt alongside the 46 other yogurt cups he’d given us several weeks ago.
“How about milk? It’s whole milk. . .” his voice trailed off as he waited expectantly for my response.
“Yes,” I answered slowly, “We are running low on milk.” I didn’t bother telling him that Drew is the primary dairy drinker in our home and as such we’ve taken to buying half gallons so the milk doesn’t spoil.
“Great!” he disappeared and came back carrying two gallons of milk, plus bottles of orange juice and lemonade.
“Thank you so much for your generosity,” I said. “We host church people in our home every week and this really does help.”
He beamed at me and said, “That’s what I told my wife! I said, ‘Well we can always give it to the neighbors—they’ll use it for church things.’”
I smiled as I began lugging our haul inside, then proceeded to creatively tetris new stacks of yogurt alongside 4 extra gallons of liquid. Although the abundance of yogurt in our refrigerator has at times been burdensome across the years of living next to our generous neighbor, our yogurt connection—more than anything else—has helped me feel like I belong in my home, on this street, in this neighborhood. Every time he offers us something we cannot possibly use up on our own, we smile and say thank you. We do this because his generosity requires us to do the same—to seek out additional friends and strangers to share in our bounty before the milk spoils. What a gift it has been to be in his debt, and to see his face light up when we receive his offers of kindness. This man “Used to go to church,” as he once explained to us while leaning with one arm against his diesel truck as if for moral support—but quite honestly, Reese has been church to us more times than I can count. He’s brought us soup without even knowing we were sick and in need of it. He helped me break into our house when our key snapped off in the lock. And every time I stumble in with a new tower of yogurts on Sundays, explaining to any who ask that our yogurt patron has blessed us again, I bring Reese to church with me.
To use his own phrase, everyday realities can become “church things” when we remember that the house of God is far bigger than four walls and a leaky roof.
Sometimes belonging shows up in the strangest forms, and it’s because of my neighbor that I’ve learned one thing for certain: belonging begets belonging. Consider what it means that God chose to make God’s home with us, among us, within us. It means that those who know they belong as temples of the living God are invited to welcome others—not to a place or a building—but to their very selves and lives. The beloveds who know they belong pay attention to who may be standing on the doorstep of their lives and cry out, “Come in!” with a loving kindness and genuine hospitality only God can provide. Receiving yogurt inevitably leads to my giving yogurt away, a generosity that asks me to step out of my monastic comfort zone and share the gifts I’ve been given.
The apostle Paul writes in Colossians that our life and our future glory is hidden in Christ. Maybe this is another way of saying that even though our belonging is mysterious and intangible, it is as real as a crown of thorns and blood shed upon rough splintery wood. Belonging is a state of being that can be as incarnational as a well-timed hug, as simple as a phone call to remind someone they’re not alone, and as earthy as two work-worn hands handing crates of yogurt across the fences that divide us.
As the late great Mr. Rogers would say, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood” when the body of Christ says “yes” to the call of becoming home for those who are lost and lonely. And when we do so, we find it is Lady Wisdom herself who stands beside us, beckoning us deeper into the house of belonging. May these words from Proverbs 9 in the Message serve as both benediction and invitation for us today:
Lady Wisdom has built and furnished her home; it’s supported by seven hewn timbers.
The banquet meal is ready to be served: lamb roasted, wine poured out, table set with silver and flowers.
Having dismissed her serving maids, Lady Wisdom goes to town, stands in a prominent place, and invites everyone within sound of her voice:“Are you confused about life, don’t know what’s going on? Come with me, oh come, have dinner with me! I’ve prepared a wonderful spread—fresh-baked bread, roast lamb, carefully selected wines. Leave your impoverished confusion and live! Walk up the street to a life with meaning.”
Come, have dinner with me. Walk up the street to a life with meaning.
Amen.
P.S. If anyone in the greater Seattle area is in need of yogurt, please message me. Current flavors include: orange cream, mango cream, harvest peach, French vanilla, and strawberry.