Today I built a bench. I am quite proud of it. And of myself. I am not terribly gifted with creating real, touchable things and I am not particularly physically strong either, so I am quite proud of doing all the sawing, hammering, etc etc myself…I learned a few things as well: I learned not to judge people who fail woodwork so badly (Safa reference); I learned that sometimes nails go through nicely because I have mastered the angle of the stroke, and sometimes it happens because the wood is a little more rotten than I thought (“sometimes” meaning “OK, once” and “alright, pretty much each time” respectively); I also learned to check the tip of the nail before beginning to hammer it in: a blunt nail is NOT a cool thing to persevere with, as two of my fingers and my thumb are reminding me as I type this.
But, this post is not about the my excitement at having made something which I can hold in my hands. Nor is it about passing on DIY tips around working with wood and nails. It isn’t even about recycling palettes (which really excites the eco-nerd in me) or the fact that I tried to do it in a way which anyone could do and not spend a huge amount of money (which does it for the justice-geek part of me).
I wanted to tell you about the bench, because it fits into a wider thinking of mine which I think I just need to write about instead of waiting for it to be perfected! This particular thinking revolves around hospitality and what I call “boundaries and thresholds of welcome”. Hospitality, for me, is about welcoming people and making them know they are precious, unique and created in God’s image – without necessarily saying anything. Hospitality to the stranger, especially, is spoken about in “sacred” language in the bible: you never know when you might be welcoming angels (Hebrews 13:2) and Jesus made it clear that the way we treat “the least of these” is a direct demonstration of our love for Him (Matthew 25:31-46).
But hospitality to the stranger is quite a tricky one in our society nowadays – with our walls, our sense of “individuality” and privacy, our sense of ownership of everything we have been given to steward; and the fear that the person at the gate or asking for help might not actually be in need, but might represent danger for you and/or your family. I feel like we have to approach this with wisdom and creativity. Wisdom to know where to set a healthy boundary, and creativity in finding a way for the space at that boundary to become a space of welcome – every boundary line we set is also a threshold of welcome.
I have been trying to think of my garden and home in this way for a few years now: how do I make people feel welcomed and created in the image of God at each of the boundaries…and how can I change my wall, my gate, my garden and my home to move each boundary and “increase my yes” to people coming deeper in to “our” space – safely?
The bench is part of an exercise of creating a threshold of welcome on our first “non-conceptual” boundary line (at least two other wider ones are: choosing a house which is near to public transport routes so that people who do not own cars are able to access your home easily; and having a church which embraces real hospitality to the stranger…this for another day!). When I can’t let people in – when I am alone at home and there is a male at the gate, for example – how do I make them feel cherished, or at the very least not rob them of all dignity?
I am passionate about having a bell that works, so that people do not have to stand shouting at my gate; we stopped plans to build a solid wall at the front of our house, so that we could always greet neighbours walking past, and not be hidden from people seeking help at the front gate. I have put out wooden crates on to the pavement and am growing plants and pretty flowers so that it hopefully already feels like sanctuary. And the bench is going to be there so that people have a place other than the pavement to sit down after walking around all day, while I run inside to make a cup of coffee or see if my kids have outgrown some good clothes which I can give to them. (I also really want to make sure I always have food of some sort that I can give. I have wondered about having a ready-made pack for people so I am always prepared – another way to make someone feel that you welcome them and have been eagerly anticipating their arrival).
The bench is not the last step…I would really like to put some shelter from the rain above it, and perhaps rig a small water-tank behind the wall with the tap coming through so that people can always at least have something to drink, even if we’re not home. While I was getting the flower crates ready a few weeks ago, one of our neighbours actually suggested putting a bench there “so we can sit and have tea” …I am really excited that this bench might not only make “the stranger” feel more honoured, but will even increase the sense of community in my street.
I am eager to hear what other people have done to create a threshold of welcome outside their home…and I am quite happy to share a host of thoughts I have had about other spaces in our home, but thought I would leave it there, as a nice project for people to experiment with this weekend 🙂
PS: I DO try to think of each person who comes to my gate as if they were Jesus, but in case you think it sounds too good to be true: I have had to make a very conscious choice each time to focus on that and on celebrating that Jesus has presented Himself in this way at my gate. And there are days where I have prayed that Jesus doesn’t choose to do this (!) because I am really tired and just want to lie on the couch and doze! It is all a journey, but worth talking about!
From the Outer Limb 