Neighborhood Missional Living When My House Is Too Small

This post is part of the “Obstacles to Neighborhood Missional Living” series, and it is available on both the blog and podcast. To view all the topics in the series, including where to read or listen to the other posts/episodes, click here.

My house is small, we think—yet for some reason that ache to foster community right in our home is not easily brushed aside. Practicality has its place, we justify—and yet we hope there is another option besides saying no to community or yes to a different house. I invite you to consider the possibility that your desire to connect is a beautiful part of being human. Brené Brown, researcher and New York Times best-selling author, offers us this: “We are biologically, cognitively, physically, and spiritually wired to love, to be loved, and to belong” (26). It’s ingrained deep in our veins—to be part of community. Instead of stuffing our need to connect, let’s unpack some ways we can foster community with our neighbors even if our house is small.

Big lessons from small moments.

Do you have a favorite memory from your college years? I honestly have far too many to share right now, but I will tell you what was beneath almost every one of those memories: people. The last semester of my undergrad year I lived on the best floor. Perhaps there was a dorm floor like this at your school too—the one that was the place to be. On this floor, our lobby was often full of students hanging out together, while the lobbies in other buildings and floors were more lightly used. On our floor, a parade of students would circle nearly every lunch and dinner hour, knocking on doors, asking who wanted to join the caravan and eat together in the cafeteria. We packed into each other’s rooms. It didn’t matter if the floor was the only seat, because together was better than alone.

My take-away from that semester is that we make space for what matters. When the connection is the goal, our “not enough,” and the lack we perceive about our spaces, fades into the background. College students are not as easily hung up on things like the size of the tv screen, perfect décor, an updated bathroom, or even the presence of a table and couch. Their dorm is their space where they feel most at home, yet many freely invite others to experience it with them. The goal is to share experiences rather than entertain. Kristen Shell, author of The Turquoise Table, acknowledges that “in keeping things Pinterest perfect, we’re entertaining everyone but fooling no one” (143). I would do well to learn from my college-age self that the richest memories are created when we drop our pride and pretenses and simply focus on the people.

Friends, it is so easy to overcomplicate investing in community right in the middle of our neighborhoods. Yet the essence of community is not the setting, but the people who fill it. Kristen Shell further articulates that “hospitality is always about the people, not the presentation” (78). If we are looking for something amiss with the presentation, we will find it. But that’s not what our neighbors are looking for. I’m discovering authentic connection matters more to my neighbors than a lavishly furnished and amply-sized home.

The size of our home does not have to limit the size of our friendships.

It is an honor to be welcomed into someone else’s space. The simple act of opening our front door is unveiling something that for many of us is private, perhaps even sacred. We can’t hide the literal mess on the inside of our homes as easily as we can bar parts of our lives from conversations with casual acquaintances. So when we welcome others in, we choose to embrace a posture of vulnerability. We step into real. And real, friends, is available regardless of the size of our home.

Perhaps you are familiar with Myquillyn Smith, “The Nester,” author of Cozy Minimalist Home. Her inspiration has helped me look at my own home through a new lens—to focus less on what I think is missing, and see how less with more intention actually becomes more. She writes, “You’ll know your home is in a good place when you go from thinking about how to make it look better to thinking about how to make it serve better” (Smith 195). What if we saw our homes as having a greater purpose than looking “perfect”? What if we dropped the lie that our home has to be spacious and have nothing amiss and embraced instead its potential to serve and sow into others?

Hugh Halter, author of Flesh: Bringing the Incarnation Down to Earth, writes, “Here is the deal. People are not looking for doctrine. They’re looking for a God with skin on, a God they can know, speak with, learn from, struggle with, be honest with, get straight answers from, and connect their lives to” (15). Could we be people who care more about what we look like on the inside than what the inside of our home may look like to a neighbor we invite in?

Missional living is not about having all the answers. It doesn’t require an extroverted personality, a seminary degree, or kids who never argue or throw down a mean tantrum. It also does not require our house to be any larger than the size that it is. But a missional lifestyle does invite us to hold with open hands our preconceptions, our possessions, and our time.

Practical ideas for missional living when your house is small.

Are you ready to dig into some practical ways we can live missionally in our neighborhoods even when our house is small? This list is not exhaustive, but it should give you a starting point. If something jumps out at you, take note of it. Moving in the direction of living on mission often starts with a simple baby step. Once the first step is behind you, the next one feels a little less intimidating. Over time, the baby steps that may feel so small get down deep and begin rewiring the way you think about your life, your home, and the neighborhood in which you are planted.

1. Be visible more often by doing something outside in your front yard that doesn’t have to be done or enjoyed inside. You might sit outside and read or write, tend to your landscaping, sit on your front step and sort through your mail before going inside, leave your garage door open while unloading your car, or regularly walk your neighborhood. If you have kids, bring playtime or snack time to the front yard. Converse genuinely with your neighbors as opportunities arise.

• Invite just one or two at a time. You may not have room to invite multiple families over at the same time, but could you make space to invite a single neighbor or just a couple? A single parent and her only kid? A simple invitation may lead to finding a new kindred spirit.

• Forgo the pressure of cleaning anything inside your house and host in your yard, driveway, or garage instead. Your gathering can be big or small, planned or spontaneous. The goal is connection, not perfection.

• Two houses are better than one. For a season, the best location option for the missional community we were co-leading was for the adults to meet in one house and the kids, with a sitter, to meet in a nearby neighbor’s house. This set-up could work for other get-togethers as well.

• The friendships forming organically as you spend more time being visible to your neighbors could be deepened through get-togethers outside of the neighborhood. You might plan a night-out meal or activity for the neighborhood ladies or guys, or invite one or two neighbors to meet you for coffee. When you begin thinking of your neighbors as friends you want to get to know better, it becomes more natural to think outside the box to create the space for those friendships to grow.

• Start or be active in your neighborhood’s Facebook group—and think through your posts before you make them public.

• Help neighbors with projects, letting their dog out when they are on vacation, or shoveling a driveway when it’s not expected. Take a plate of warm cookies to a neighbor, and step in if they invite you to.

• Choose gratitude for what you do have to offer—even your small is more than enough!

Friends, I know having a small house can feel like a giant hurdle to living missionally in your neighborhood. I know because I lived in a very small rental house for several years, and I thought I couldn’t make space in our home and life for neighbors until we moved to a bigger house. But I see now that the cramped space I saw when I looked at my home and all its imperfections was merely a reflection of the constricted space in my own heart . . . and opening my life and home to my neighbors was a chain reaction that had to first start in my heart.

A prayer for mission-minded small-house dwellers.

I invite you to join me as I put words to a prayer:

Jesus—please be our teacher and our guide as we learn to love our neighbors the way that You do. We want to learn from You.

Would You touch the place deep in our hearts that feels like our worth is determined by the size of our home? Remind us that You paid the ultimate price to be able to call us Your own—and You say we were worth every bit of it to You.

We invite You into our preconceptions, our possessions, and our time.

And we offer what we have—no matter how small and insignificant it may appear to us—with open hands.

May You take our small and make it more than enough.

Amen.

Brown, Brené. The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are. Hazelden, 2010.

Halter, Hugh. Flesh: Bringing the Incarnation Down to Earth. David C Cook, 2014.

Shell, Kristin. The Turquoise Table: Finding Community and Connection in Your Own Front Yard. Thomas Nelson, 2017.

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