I scanned the kitchen from where I stood. One table for four—my husband’s before we met. Linoleum dated not only in style, but also by deep scratches inherited from previous tenants. Defeated, I let out an audible sigh.
There wasn’t room for even one extra around our table. And even if there was, who would want to join us for dinner here?
Still, we couldn’t deny the stirring in our hearts as we learned of others at our church opening their homes for proximity-based small groups. In other words, community where it mattered more that you were within walking distance than how old you were or whether you shared the same interests.
Someday, we’d say, and kept putting the dream back on the shelf.
But as God would have it, someday came in as humble a home as the one we’d rented years longer than we expected.
The Best Way to Get to Know Neighbors
We moved, finally, to a will-be-blessing. You know, the kind of house with a lot of potential, but a lot of work. It was bigger, true, but our sparse furniture didn’t amount to much spread out in the space.
As die-hard DIYers, we slowly cleaned garbage, scrubbed years of spills, chalk-painted furniture, and nailed down hardwood flooring. And, while we were at it, we met our neighbors.
Unbeknownst to us, we’d chosen a neighborhood that already had a high value on community. Kids played in front yards instead of in back yards out of sight. They rode bikes and played games in the street. Adults congregated in driveways and garages.
Quickly, we learned a small but powerful way to get to know neighbors: be visible.
Instead of playing inside, we took sidewalk chalk and lemonade stands outside. When we saw other neighbors out walking, we smiled in greeting. When cars drove into the neighborhood, we raised a hand in hello. And when neighbors knocked, we opened the door.
That was a big change. I was used to keeping the door locked unless I expected company. And if I was expecting visitors, I’d have cleaned at the speed of Sonic and hoped that they were a few minutes late, so the vacuum still wasn’t running.
But God was beginning to pry my fingers off the image of always put together I’d stubbornly maintained. Instead of ignoring the door if my house didn’t look “guest-ready,” or if I wasn’t “ready” for the day, I opened it anyway. Sometimes before I’d showered. Regularly before I’d put on makeup. Often when my house looked very, very lived in—on top of our in-progress projects.
“May your heart stay tender, your hands stay open, and your door stay easy on its hinges,” wrote Shannon Martin, and I leaned hard into that line. It was a refreshing way to live, where we didn’t have to keep up appearances or convince anyone our house was an ounce cleaner than it actually was.
Leading with Humility
Turns out our years in rental row prepared our hearts to drop the guises and embrace the real.
It takes humility to welcome someone inside when they’ve got to step around strewn shoes, offer your bathroom when it’s overdue for a cleaning, or admit that today was frustrating and you had to apologize to your kids. But brave souls willing to be vulnerable first soon realize that others instantly relate.
I’m not one for small talk. Inside, I still feel awkwardly shy, and I overthink how silly I sound trying to keep up conversation with little substance. But I also struggle to share anything that makes me seem less competent, less patient, and less Christian. I’d rather empathize with you, ask the questions, and remember the details so you know I’m listening.
Sharing the less-than-pretty about me is downright scary. Asking for help isn’t any easier. Both push against my grain. And both open my heart to God and the people in front of me.
Uncomplicating Reaching Others for Jesus
Keep quiet about what God’s working out inside you—how you’re learning to trust or surrender or follow His lead—and you give off the impression that you never struggle. Unintentionally, you can come across as judgmental and push away people God invites you to love.
But embrace humility, vulnerability, and visibility, and you’ll shift your trajectory towards authentic faith spilling into casual conversation. You’ll learn names and swap stories, share laughs, and—in time—meals around your table.
Before you know it, it won’t feel awkward to open up about a parenting challenge or decision that’s incredibly hard to make, and what God’s growing in you through it. Your conversations with God will become more honest, as will your chats in the front yard with neighbors stopping to say hi.
One day, it will strike you that impactful faith isn’t any more complicated than letting the things God is doing inside you spill out beyond you.
Living out the Great Commission—making “disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:19) is as much about building genuine friendships with literal neighbors as it is going on mission trips to faraway places. God is in both. Often, He calls us to both.
