Does Your Life Say "Welcome"?

I love driving through neighborhoods and seeing glimpses of the life that happens within the houses I pass. Families sitting at the table, kids playing on the front lawn, neighbors gathered together in garages. I've noticed more recently though that this is a rare sight to see. With the past year's pandemic and "social distancing" becoming isolation, there is less interaction and "life" visible to the casual passerby. It makes me sad. 

Now, when I drive through my own neighborhood, most of the houses are closed up tight. Front window blinds are drawn, front doors are closed, and few take the time to mingle with their neighbors while the sprinkler sprays screaming kids. 

Our front door is a farmhouse style door that is almost completely glass. Many may not understand why we'd choose to have a direct line of vision into our home on a regular basis, but I absolutely love it. I want others to catch a glimpse of the life within our four walls as they pass by. As an appreciator of "home" I hope for others to notice that cozy quality about our house. But I had to ask myself recently, does it end there at my front door? Because while I allow glimpses into the entryway of our house, make no mistake...there is still a deadbolt lock fastened to keep out those I do not invite in. What you may see in 3-second intervals as you cruise past is not an accurate representation of what happens within the rest of our square footage. What you see as an outside spectator is what I can carefully craft. You'll see only the beginnings of our home and have no idea of the things jammed in closets, swept under beds, or haphazardly stuffed in drawers. 

Is my life like that? Do I allow others in only so far, carefully locked away behind a deadbolt of protection from those I may not want to see "all" of me? Does my life say "Come in...but only so far" or does my whole life say "Welcome!"? 

The early Church was a community of believers. They shared with and helped one another. They ate together, worshiped together, and lived life...together. It wasn't perfect, I'm certain, but I imagine neither was it life lived in isolation with blinds drawn and doors locked, figuratively speaking. 

How am I going to reach my neighbor for Christ when I never look out my window? How will I share the love of Jesus if I never take a minute to chat with the woman walking her dog? How can I live out the Commission to share the Gospel from my fenced-in back yard? 

Are these questions an indictment? Yes, of myself. My convictions may not be yours. Regardless of what is happening in the world, I have to remember I am not a citizen of this world. This place is not my true home. I'm a traveler passing through, going about my Father's work. And that work, like He exemplified while on earth, is to live a life that says welcome.