There are places in life where the veil between heaven and earth feels more thin than others. Those moments when we’re certain we were made for something so much bigger than ourselves. These moments are felt differently by all of us but for me, these moments happen most in community.
There are moments in community that only exist because we have a God who made a way for us when there was none. There are depths of empathy and connection that can’t exist in the natural. The moments where you visit your best friend in the hospital and hold her newborn, when you sit around a table and feel home, when you see through someone’s words to their pain, when you push each other to dream louder, and when your friend says the words that make you realize you aren’t alone or crazy. The moments when your community holds your hands high because you’re too weary to hold them up yourself. These are the moments we were created for, to love and be loved well. These moments take courage and vulnerability and work. To find a place of deep connection with another person takes time and honesty and the knowledge that you might be let down at some point because people aren’t perfect.
These are the places where the veil between heaven and earth grow thin. They can take place in living rooms, on walks, in cars, and over the phone. In a world of broken people, authentic and true community is nothing less than a miracle. The ability to show up and been seen as you truly are is a gift. Many of us walk around in fear of being seen, afraid of being rejected. We’re afraid to say or ask too much of one another, hesitant that we’ve crossed some invisible line.
The invisible line is dissolved when a friend gives you a key to their house and insists you use it, when they invite you over when their house is a train wreck, when they stop by uninvited. We want our lives and our houses to be perfect. But when we allow others to step into our imperfect days and homes, something is shifted. Some broken part of our heart is healed when we realize we are so loved in the midst of our imperfection, in our brokenness. Hosting doesn’t require the perfect dinner and a spotless house, it requires a safe place to land.
Every time we encounter a safe place and allow ourselves to be seen, the belief that we are loved is deepened. In a world that tells us we have to be thin, pretty, successful, debt-free, etc, to be worthy of love, a quiet and safe place to land is something to be treasured. Finding the thin places is worth doing. They’re worth fighting for. The thin places bring life and healing to our souls and hearts. And once our hearts are healed a little more, we grow in our capacity to love others well. Let’s be people that both find and create spaces that allow the veil to grow thin. Let’s invite others in and protect these gifts of grace.
“So Joshua did as Moses told him, and fought with Amalek, while Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed, and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses’ hands grew weary, so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side. So his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. Exodus 17:10-12″