People in my room

Two Saturdays ago there were 30 people packed in my 750 square foot apartment.

I honestly was doubting if this would be possible.

I was proved wrong.

Mike and I hosted our January launch team party at our house. Our launch team parties are simple get togethers with every one who is committed or just plain interested in planting a church with us. It is chance to meet new people, catch up with old friends and make new ones. This last one was probably one of our best ones yet. We packed as many fold up chairs as possible along the edges of our living room. We also opened up the french doors to our bedroom and put some chairs in there too. It was madness, but fantastic madness. 

I found that this particular meeting put me to the test in some ways. As I was cleaning before the party I was realizing that every part of my house would most likely be on display. A large group of people would see the empty grey walls in our bedroom ( I plan on hanging pictures). They would see the sloppily painted paneling, and the fact that the refrigerator door is hooked on the wrong way. They would see our cheap target comforter and maybe notice that our pillow cases do not match in the least. The only thing that was not on display that night was our clothes closet in the farthest corner of our bedroom. I will not disclose to you what was packed in there to make room for everyone. 

There was a point during the evening when I was sitting on my bed with several other people ( it was being used as another piece of sitting furniture) and thinking, 

"There are so many people in my room..." 

Before I could figure out if this was ok with me or not, I realized that being in someone's room is something personal. It's usually a quiet place that is invitation only. If you're like me, it is a place where you quickly shove stuff before people come over. It is sometimes the place where you cry without reservation and fight most loudly. It is the place of rest when you are sick. Some rooms are safe havens, retreats, and almost sacred. When people are in your room they really see you. You become a little more vulnerable than usual. No hiding. 

In this moment I was suddenly aware of how important it was for me to open up my room to everyone that night. I wasn't even thinking about what it would feel like while I was cleaning earlier in the day. All I was thinking about was how in the world we were going to fit everyone in our apartment and what they were going to see.

The past few weeks I've been replaying this feeling in my mind. A part of me felt so much joy and an interesting closeness to our team. Another part of me was resisting the urge to build some really quick walls to hide vulnerability. This was my insecurity, my deep desire to be accepted and liked. 

Before Mike and I moved to Texas I thought church planting would be long nights, long talks, lots of cooking, and an endless amount of dishes. I am learning that these things are certainly apart of church planting, but it is not all that it is. 

Church planting is mostly about opening up your room to a bunch of people. 

Its about vulnerability, being real, and living with people. It is about sharing your struggles and victories. Its about letting the real and living Gospel show up through you no matter how messy it may look. 

Its about deciding to open up the doors of your room.

Its about letting people in. 

It is about letting Jesus in. 

I think that vulnerability may be an endless battle that rages inside of my mind and my heart. I will probably be working on insecurity issues until I am like 80 years old. But I don't want to ever give up on fighting that battle because its in vulnerability where we find Jesus. And I so want him in my room. 

So let them see my mix matched pillow cases! Let them see my empty walls! Let them see my dirty dishes! Welcoming people to my life, and to the heart of the Gospel is of more importance than looking pretty. So come on in, the doors are open.