We survived the weekend. Yes, there was mud and rain and moments of desperation, but… we survived.
We survived with help from folks who washed laundry, offered use of their shower, made their own equipment available, and showed up with their friends (who don’t even know us) to loan us even more equipment. We survived with texts of encouragement, phone calls of advice, and a constant stream of “how can I pray for you right now?” texts.
I know I say it so often that it sounds almost trite, but if you take nothing else from this post today, let it be this:
You should have people.
Actual, real, roll up their sleeves and do the dirty work alongside you people.
Not people who pop off a quick praying hands emoji when they hear you’re facing an obstacle. Not people who refer your emergent situation to “the person who handles that kind of thing.” Not people who can’t be found when push comes to shove. Not people who make overtures from a distance.
People who are sacrificial. People who rearrange their day around the needs of others, even if it means that math lessons don’t get done or the chicken in the soup is stretched a bit thin tonight because an extra pot needed to made for sharing. People who don’t let a power outage keep them from bringing a family in need a meal. People who seriously don’t care if you drop kids with mud caked boots on their porch to entertain on a rainy day. People who don’t wait to be asked if there’s something they can do… they’re already on their way.
People who have read Acts 4:32-35 and realize that the modern application of these verses looks like texting a friend and saying, in actual words, “Our home is not our own. We gladly share.”
I can’t tell you where to find these New Testament Christians, but I can encourage you that they are out there. They may be in your church, your neighborhood, your homeschool circle. I can also tell you that it will be a hard work, living in a community like this. There will be disrupted meals and added work and financial creativity and derailed plans. Community is messy. We love to sit in our seats on Sunday and bob our heads as our pastor says this, but then we also like to go home with our own little family and have lunch and make sure we get our afternoon nap undisturbed. And you know, that happens. But other days, your Sunday afternoon looks like running to get groceries for someone whose baby has been sick for two weeks, or flying solo with the kids again while your husband goes to pull shingles from a friend’s roof. You might end up hosting half a dozen kids at the last minute when someone has an emergency, or have to stop, again, to buy more of those aluminum foil pans that travel so well with pasta dishes in them. You will have moments of being uncomfortable, or wanting your own space, or maybe even feeling put upon. If you don’t, personally… I think you might be doing it wrong. Giving should cost you. Like the widow and her mite, you should be willing to go beyond what you can do from the comfort of your home or your circumstance and be the hands and feet of Jesus to your circle of believers.
I used to feel sheepish every time someone offered to bless us when we were in the middle of hardship. Now I see it as Christ-centered symbiosis. Wherever there is need, we give. My casserole here helps this friend, who last week was letting another friend use the spare car they keep around. My scrubbing this friend’s toilet while she’s on bedrest blesses her older daughter, who babysat another friend’s kids during a funeral. We give of our time, our finances, but most importantly we give of ourselves. We pay for the price for this giving. We are inconvenienced for the sake of the Gospel. And when it is our turn, we are embraced with this same sacrificial giving only in reverse.
It is, I believe, how we most accurately reflect the Gospel without words to a lost and lonely world. We love one another.