I bought a house — and I need your help.
I recently expanded my definition of “adulting” by asking a bank to buy me house — and they DID! Nice folks. They’re letting me stay there for a nominal fee, and one day it might even be mine completely! *fingers crossed*
But here’s the thing: I don’t own ANYTHING. Ever since moving back to the U.S. after grad school, some 7 years ago, I’ve always lived with housemates who had all the house things — furniture, kitchen supplies, etc. I had taken the opportunity then to hunkered down, make due with my sagging twin bed and aging shoe collection (gasp), and give every cent I made to my student debt overlords. (Minus a few trips here and, oh, Nepal.)
Today, student debt free and new house indebted, I’m blinking at the half painted walls of my house in downtown Lancaster thinking, “What NOW?”
(Side note: I’ve recently declared war on a phalanx of bold mice that have returned to their old stomping grounds to eat my Larabars. With raging murder in my heart, I bought ALL the mousetraps in Home Depot last night. Wish me luck.)
Well, the first step is to give holy grounding to my first statement — I truly don’t own anything. The fact that I found a house in my price range, in the neighborhood I was hoping for, with the aesthetics that make human hearts sing, and near my church and friends, is a divine orchestration. The seeming improbability of my homeownership helps to underscore for me that this neat pile of bricks and mortar is not, in fact, mine. I bought it with resources that are not mine to begin with, so this house can’t really be mine. Without getting too theological, it’s God’s. I’m merely a steward — one of many in this home’s now 100-year-old lifespan.
Realizing this, I now have a framework for how to approach it. I am to use this house, just like my other resources etc., for Kingdom purposes, like welcoming others in for a meal, whether familiar or stranger. It means I should take care of the home, for the sake of those living in it now and in the future. Basically, it’s a place to practice hospitality.
And an aspect of hospitality, one that I hadn’t thought about before, is that hospitality is mutual giving AND receiving. Hospitality cannot be fully expressed without a willing recipient. I would argue, to have a healthy and dynamic community, we need to serve others (hospitality and much more) AND receive their service, generosity, and kindness. This helps break down our flimsy American aspirations of independence and self-sufficiency. It humbles our delusions that others need us more than we need them.
So, my first posture with “my” new house has been to ask for help, for the service and kindness of others. I asked for help when I moved my few possessions into the new house. This past weekend, a beautifully random gaggle of friends traipsed through echoing rooms, welding paintbrushes and rollers and slinging “dove white,” “agreeable gray,” and “crushed ice” paint on the walls and trim — and a little on the floors too. This messy paint party looked a whole lot more like Jesus (to me and others) than me painting everything by myself because I didn’t want to bother anyone on a beautiful summer Saturday.
And I’ve also registered for housewarming gifts, similar to any married couple who randomly walks around Bed, Bath, and Beyond, scanning towel sets as they plan to establish a new home. I’m not getting married, but I am establishing a home — and homes have towels. Sure, it’s a little different. I don’t intend to populate it with biological child, but I do intend to have toys and books for the kids that are in my life. Yes, practically speaking, I do “need” pots and pans, and I could buy them myself. (I’m not THAT broke yet.) But by allowing others to help me set up my home, I am affirming to them and myself that I’m not building my own castle, that my home has a piece of my community in it, and that I need others in my life.
This is ongoing. I need you to come visit, give me ideas for how to be more hospitable, and remind me that this home is not my own. How can I invite more people into how I “do life.” *eye rollz* This is not my ivory tower; I am merely a steward of a few things with a Kingdom purpose. Again, I don’t own anything.
Please be a part of my community, whether you are near or far. 😀
P.S. And you don’t need to own a house to practice hospitality — it applies to everything. I wish I’d taken this open-handed posture earlier in life, from my material resources to my time and how I prioritized relationships.