When My Offering Feels Small
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Looking around at walls painted landlord tan that held evidence of every toddler finger that touched it, carpet with splotches that reemerged again after every cleaning, scratched and worn linoleum patterned with the familiar outline of squares, I let out an audible exhale. Where? How? We were learning about missional communities—small groups of people in close proximity united by a common mission who intentionally do life together and cultivate growth in three key areas: spiritual formation, authentic community, and loving others in practical ways. But here? In this space? It seemed more than impossible. What we had to offer in this season simply felt too small.
Our neighbors? We hardly knew them. Aside from the neighbors directly on either side of us, I honestly didn’t know anyone by name. Our front yard was small and provided little cushion from the busy road the ran past us. The backyard wasn’t fully fenced either, so we frequented parks and other local play spots in lieu of spending time outside when we were home.
When we sat at our kitchen table, we would eye the plethora of gouges in the soft wood it had acquired since my husband purchased it before we even met, and dream of a table large enough to frequently invite people to join us for meals. Yet as much as we longed to begin living missionally, we talked ourselves out of being missional right where we currently lived, convinced it was not feasible until we could move. Of course, it took years longer than we hoped to sell a rental duplex that was holding us back from buying our own house. So we waited. What we could offer right here and right now felt like not enough.
Perhaps you can relate to my story. You want to be a beacon of hope and life in your neighborhood. You want to love with an open heart, open arms, open ears, and an open door. But you see the smallness of what you can offer and you are disheartened.
May I invite you through my front door right now?
What you will find if you look up is a 90’s chandelier original to the house that we haven’t dusted. To tell the truth, once a few more of the light bulbs burn out, we are just going to replace it. But it’s been there for the nearly two years that we have lived here. To your left are nails in the walls from a farmhouse collage I began before I read Myquillyn Smith’s Cozy Minimalist Home. Now a re-purposed dresser sits there with a yet-to-be-hung picture I stole from the living room—yes, leaving more exposed nails in the wall. The floor you step onto is new—our latest (still-in-progress) project, as the giant miter saw folded down in the corner our entry bench usually sits in suggests.
My front door opens to a larger house than the one we rented for four years, but I’m learning to let go of wanting my house to look perfect before I welcome my neighbors in. What I thought was most appealing—a home perfectly curated and Pinterest-able—I’m discovering pales in comparison to simple and real.
Friends, may I speak candidly from my heart now because I would love to save you the trouble of what it took me years to discover?
The smallness of your offering can be your greatest strength because your neighbors don’t need people who can keep up a perfect appearance, they need people who are letting Love Himself perfect them in the midst of their messy, ordinary lives.
Our small may be simple, but it is enough.
It’s not what we have to give, but whether we are willing to give it, that matters.
Your front door doesn’t need to be repainted before you can open it. Your countertops don’t have to be granite to welcome a spread of food across it. Your floors don’t have to be crumb-free and stain-free to let little feet traipse across it. Your projects don’t have to be finished before you invite, your table large before you can share it, your home able to host a group before you can host for one or two.
A home that is touchable can touch well.
And a life that is lived well loves well.
When my offering feels small—I can still offer it, because it grows bigger when I give it. But when I hoard it, consume my thoughts with too-small, and not-enough, it grows even more spare.
This I wish I embraced those years in the rental house—even attending and then co-leading a missional community elsewhere: let God make my small offering be big enough.
If I could relive those years I would more often throw the front door open and bask in the sunshine coming in. I would invite others we passed along the way to join us for walks and bike-rides and park-time. I would look more of my neighbors in the eye and greet them when they were outside. I would lose the separation of who were my neighbors and who were my friends (for more on how it’s a both/and, not an either/or, click here).
I would ask more questions, start more conversations, be more frequently visible.
I would choose to be present in my real-life, right-now season.
I would stop waiting and begin to live missionally in small ways, right where I was, even though my offering felt small.
You may not be ready to host a missional community out of your current home, but I encourage you to not let that stop you from including your current neighbors in the ebb and flow of the life you are currently living.
Dream of tomorrow, but today, even if your offering is small, please know that small is still enough.
I pray that today we would live into the reality that present bests perfect. Would You help us identify little ways we can begin doing life together with our neighbors? Stir in our hearts big dreams but let us not wait for the big when we can begin today to offer our small. With You our small offering is always enough.
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