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Community

Almost Home

Afriend of mine recently moved into a new house—on the same weekend her husband surprised her with a new puppy and her adult kids came home for her birthday. Her adult foster son’s toddler was padding around as I popped in the door. We sat at the dinner table surrounded by tilting stacks of boxes.

Know what I love? She brought out a plastic bin of granola bars for lunch, with a side of some tubs of applesauce and a jar of peanut butter. I 100 percent meant it when I told her how much I loved that our friendship had hit the granola-bars-and-a-spoonful-of-peanut-butter level.

Our authentic conversation nourished my soul. Her hospitality welcomed me into her reality—considering me more important than her image. Classy meals and lipstick aren’t why we stick around each other.

I’ve found that people who visit our house may not remember whether I put out a clean hand towel or they stepped on a toy. But they remember if I was truly, undistractedly present with them. They remember if I was interested in their lives—and whether they felt loved.

Permanent Truth

Community is about:

• choosing interdependence with the full diversity of Christ’s body, rather than dysfunctional isolation

• helping others feel “at home,” even when meeting them on the street—allowing them to glimpse God’s open arms and intentional care

• receiving others and being received with emotional presence and safety

• caring relentlessly and practically amid the daily stuff of life

I continue to think my friendships as a whole benefit from more fingerprints and less mascara or neckties. A little more spruced-up appearance leaves us that much more isolated because, as John Lynch and his coauthors reflect, “No one told me that when I wear a mask, only my mask receives love.”¹ Presenting artifice to others prevents them from loving our true self beneath.

The Disease of Isolation

In his book Lost Connections, Johann Hari relates how, for decades, social scientists have been asking people a simple question: How many people in your life could you call in a time of crisis? In the 1970s, the most common answer was three. Today’s most common answer?

Zero.²

Hari explained that in their brain scans, lonely people tended to spot threats twice as quickly as socially connected people. The lonely were hypervigilant, more likely to take offense, and more suspicious of others. Hari continues, “It was only a long time into talking with these social scientists that I realized every one of the social and psychological causes of depression and anxiety they have discovered has something in common. They are all forms of disconnection.”³

Isolation lies contrary to our God, who has lived in perfect community for eternity within the Trinity, and who took daily walks with his image bearers in a garden. Who defeats the isolating power of shame.

To be clear: I’m not talking about being electronically connected or even about social media connectedness, both of which increase kids’ tendency toward depression and anxiety.

I’m talking community.

Some people might say, “Community. That’s kind of like a Facebook group, right?”

Well, no.

Community is about relationships that love relentlessly and practically—through depression or a miscarriage or the career that evaporated. Through seasons where one party might give or pursue more than the other. Or seasons with as many melty beads on the floor as dirty dishes on the counter.

We aim to train our kids to acknowledge our unvarnished need for each other because, as Christians, isolation is dysfunctional. As the apostle Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 12, the interconnectedness of the body of Christ is vital: “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you!’” (verse 21).

What If Friendships Are the One Choice We Have?

The need for community hits me like a tennis shoe between the eyes because in some of the scariest and darkest times of my life, I’ve found myself shutting down and shutting out. Isolation honestly felt safer than needing others, than exposing myself to judgment or rejection or misunderstanding. (If we do this, do our kids get the idea we should pretend friendship?)

Sometimes the effort toward friendship feels herculean. I’ve even been guilty of offering just enough of an appearance of authenticity—a “curated imperfection.” What if our facades and efforts to keep it all together or appear need-free contribute to our own implosion? With all the uncontrollable factors in our lives, what if defeating isolation is the one choice we do have in staying healthy?

A year ago, in a cancer scare with our son Will, the gravitas of the situation and the precious nature of my grief seemed to settle themselves on my lips. In a season of dire stress, I didn’t feel I could risk someone misunderstanding the sacredness of my grief—the private intricacies and particular, searing losses. But I often associate my needs with considerable shame, so asking for help felt like adding a stone atop the boulder grinding my face into the ground. But John kept telling me, “We want to walk this road in community.”

When I don’t think I need others, when I choose aloneness because I think I’m better off or safer being independent, I choose against God’s design of a whole body.

One of Jesus’s final prayers for his people before his death envisioned a radical opposite of cultural isolation: “I pray…that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me” (John 17:20-21).

Becoming one requires our presence. Authors John and Stasi Eldredge note, “The gift of presence is a rare and beautiful gift. To come—unguarded, undistracted—and be fully present, fully engaged with whoever we are with at that moment. When we offer our unguarded presence, we live like Jesus.”⁴ Returning from Uganda, I was stricken that people now seemed so hungry for someone to listen to them. We feel a deep longing for people to share our stories with, depend on, and feel known by. As a culture, we are slowly starving. And on this trajectory, our kids are headed for a future even more isolated.

In Genesis 2:25, God sets an ideal of marriage that is naked and unashamed. If community is in concentric circles, with marriage being one of those most intimate circles in the center, isn’t there an element of our relationships that longs to be naked-faced, naked-hearted, just-as-I-am…and finally be unashamed? Finally be accepted as we are, embarrassing needs and all? Dependent, and okay with that?

So what if we lived differently? More vulnerably? More—dare I say—intrusively?

Training Kids to Be a Safe Place

I’m channeling my inner Fred Rogers here. Part of what draws us into community is the ability to trust and depend on each other. Mr. Rogers is famous for telling kids to “look for the helpers.”

Can kids grow into helpers too? Absolutely. Adults should still bear the mantle of being the primary helpers. But we can help kids mature into community members who receive others and their pain.

A friend of ours was recently diagnosed with cancer, so our kids brainstormed ideas for being good, safe friends. We talked about the stages of grief, listening without interrupting, and what not to say—including platitudes like “It’s God’s will” or “I understand” or “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Community is far more than interdependence. It’s a need for us and our kids to have at least one emotionally safe place, one emotional “home.” John and I have frequently prayed for one trustworthy, quality friend for each of our kids. At times, having or lacking that friend has defined a season for them.

Author Drew Hunter asserts that churches often encourage community but forget friendship—ostensibly “because friendship is exclusive, particular, and preferential, while the call to Christian love is all-inclusive.” But the truth is,

deep community is most likely a place in which each person goes deep with a handful of others. These are not isolated cliques (us four and no more) but overlapping networks of relationships.

…Greater love [agape] has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13 ESV, emphasis added)! According to Jesus, no love exceeds friendship love…Far from being at odds with Christian love, friendship is a central way in which we live it out.⁵

So, as you seek community for your family, start with a few core, unashamed relationships.

And get un-alone.

Build a web of connections.

Grab a ball of yarn and stand with your family in a circle (this activity can involve family friends too). The yarn-holder keeps hold of their piece of yarn, tosses the yarn to someone, and says that person’s name along with something unique and valuable about what they contribute to your family. This continues several times, building a web demonstrating how interconnected you are.⁶

Share love with neighbors and friends.

Buy a coffee or bake or buy some goodies. (Even guys can bring someone their favorite drink, right?) A friend regularly muffin-bombs my house (you know who you are). When she and her kids make a treat, they make extra and share the love with neighbors and friends.

Muffins have a way of making the world feel smaller.

Teach your kids to greet well—the first brush with hospitality.

Try walking through the following steps with your kids. Pretend an imaginary rope is traveling up your back, up through your head to the ceiling, helping you to look the adult in the eye. Hold the person’s hand like it’s a baseball you don’t want to drop—firmly, but not a death grip. And know the six magic words: “Hi! I’m _____. How are you?” (You can leave out your name if you already know the person.) Most adults can take it from here.

Give pointers for time around the table with a guest.

No electronic devices, phones included. Help them to have a few (open-ended) questions prepared for the guest. (You might suggest a few things going on in your guest’s life.) Ask the kids to listen—without interrupting. Suggest silently counting to two before chiming in. Practice manners beforehand, and give everyone a small role in preparing; even little kids can lay out spoons.

Coach kids to act as host.

When there’s a new kid at school or church, encourage your kids to introduce and help the newcomer know what the conversation’s about. They might have a question in their back pocket (“I’m into drawing. What about you?”).

Have kids make a dish or a whole meal.

During the summer, my kids take turns cooking for our family. They slowly adapt to the administrative aspects of hospitality (Ingredients! Timing!).

Host a Bring-Your-Own-Meat grill night.

Rotisserie chickens. Potluck at the park. Compostable plates. “Breaking bread” with others—that is, sharing a meal—is held in high priority in the Bible (see Acts 2:42). But it’s a dying art form because the work can feel overwhelming! Our own image management is often what stands between us and the community we need and long for. How can you dress down hosting to still form this critical community-making skill in your kids? Together, focus on relational warmth and ease—as Jesus welcomed us—rather than your family’s ability to impress or have your act together.

Pray for other voices in your kids’ lives.

These are people abundant in areas where I sorely lack and intimately involved enough to speak into my kids’ lives. Ask someone to mentor your child. Capitalize on a mutual hobby, like the guy from church who takes my son to the shooting range or helps another son with archery. Or, if your child is struggling, ask a kind adult friend to take them out for coffee to simply listen. Before a birthday, ask people in your child’s network to send e-mails for you to print out, read aloud, and save.

Model asking others for help in areas of weakness or need.

This can include picking paint colors, gardening, knowing where to take the car for that weird noise. When your child wants to learn something, help them think about others in the community they could ask.

Teach the gift of presence.

Community is about being fully, undistractedly there. You can do this by putting down that load of laundry (or, hello, your phone) when kids are talking to you. Model giving the people in front of you priority, and save texting, browsing, and social media for alone time. If you show them how, it’ll be easier to remind kids to be headphone-free when they’re with company, to look people in the eyes, and to ask others questions about their lives.

Dads model community too.

If moms primarily model a skill, there’s a chance kids will get the idea that it is only for women. Dads, you have a killer role in modeling vulnerability and need for others—true, interdependent masculinity. Bring your kids along, when appropriate, to activities with your friends: Ultimate Frisbee, disc golf, skiing, game night, coaching, or camping.

Remember, social media is not community.

No one should broadcast their most intimate feelings where there’s no one to look them in the eyes, ask questions, and receive them. Nudge your kids into face-to-face relationships with safe friends.

Go behind the scenes.

When your kids talk about another child’s problems, help them peek behind the scenes at what could be going on in that child’s life. What are they feeling? What might their world be like at home? (My eyes were opened when I found out years later that a “mean girl” in my life had been undergoing her parents’ divorce.)

Help your kids move beyond insecurity in relationships.

Teach them to look beneath their own words or actions to the heart attitudes beneath: “Why do you think you wanted to make him feel that way?” Don’t praise appearances only (shy away from phrases like “people will think you’re…”). And encourage them to be an authentic iteration of themselves in every group of people.

Encourage your kids to be a safe place.

Help them look out for other kids—on the playground, at the lunch table, and anywhere else some kids might feel isolated, rejected, or fearful. Help your kids understand what it means to be a “safe place”: People feel they can come to us and be real and be accepted, not rejected. We listen first, without the need to fix. People aren’t like puzzles, waiting for us to plug in the right piece of advice or information.

Teach reflective listening skills.

Explain that people of all ages first need to tell their story, to be heard. Then kids can ask questions and respond with good listening skills, like looking the speaker in the eye, not interrupting, and nodding and making small noises (“Uhhuh!” “Wow!” “Oh man!”) to show they’re listening. They can also repeat back a little of what they heard—“So, how did you feel when he said…?”

Let the person know what they’re feeling is okay. I tell my kids that feelings are like dashboard lights in a car: They’re not wrong, but they tell us what’s going on under the hood. In fact, sometimes emotion tells us what logic may not have figured out yet. It’s what we do about them that is right or wrong. So kids can say, “I think it’s okay that you feel that way.”

Increase your borders.

Intentionally welcome people of all socioeconomic backgrounds and races. Ask your kids if they can think of someone who seems different from them whom they want to get to know better. Invite that person to “break bread,” just as Jesus ate with all kinds of people.

Put kids in charge of cooking.

On summer evenings, I put kids in charge of cooking our family’s evening meals. It trains kids in the administrative aspects of welcoming and gathering others: planning what to cook and how much, balancing a meal (no, we can’t have mashed potatoes, rice, and bread), and getting all the dishes ready at the same time. Even better, help your kids form a collection of their favorite recipes.

Build a network.

Whom can kids contact when they have a need—both kids and adults? Whom can they help and pray for in return? Consider relatives, friends, Sunday school teachers, and babysitters. When your kids need help, brainstorm together about whom they can talk to. Conversely, if a friend is in need, get intentional about how you can help. Pray for them. Bring them a meal. Offer for you and your kids to babysit. Help your kids mentally build a structure of people who mutually depend on one another. You may want to help your kids assemble this network visually. Find a printable version of a “People I Can Count On” poster to post on the fridge or in a cupboard at janelbreitenstein.com/permanentmarkers/community.

For more activity ideas, discussion questions, and other resources for teaching community, visit janelbreitenstein.com/permanentmarkers/community.

•Check out some children’s books that show the power and navigation of community. I like:

•Stone Soup by Jon Muth

•An Apple Pie for Dinner by Susan VanHecke and Carol Baicker-McKee

•Wilfrid Gordon McDonald Partridge by Mem Fox

•I Really Like Slop! (An Elephant and Piggie Book) by Mo Willems

•A Sick Day for Amos McGee by Philip C. Stead and Erin E. Stead

•A Chair for My Mother by Vera B. Williams

•What a Hat! by Holly Keller

•Food allergies (different from sensitivities or preferences—and life-threatening) can make hospitality a scary reality for families. But they’re an increasing reality for so many of us! Some will prefer to bring their own food to keep family members safe. Grab tips for welcoming these often-isolated families at janelbreitenstein.com/permanentmarkers/community. You’ll also find ideas for simple dishes to make hosting easier.

•Which friends help you feel like you can be yourself? What ideas do you have for making a friend feel like they can be themselves?

•What makes someone a great listener?

•Are there friends who make you feel like you have to hold back a bit because they might make fun of you or not understand?

•Who makes you feel most at home and welcome, like you belong? Whom do you think you could trust and tell anything?

•How could we make people feel truly comfortable in our house?

•What’s the next step you’ll take to be more vulnerable and connected with someone?

•What most stands in the way of you being emotionally “present” with others? These might be physical obstacles (a harried schedule, fatigue, your phone) or emotional barriers (failure to allow ourselves to be loved and received by God and others).

•Think about the friendships that have most shaped you. How have they changed your life for better or worse?

•What fears or barriers stand in the way of your hosting with your whole heart? (Sometimes it’s not the right season. When we had young kids, it was survival season. But the idea is to make sure it’s only a season.)

•We tend to think more activities connect us more with people. But what if the quantity of your activities sucks the quality from your relationships? What’s one activity you could say no to for the sake of being more present with others?

I’m fascinated by Jesus’s expression that, to the rest of the world, what sets us apart as his followers is how we love each other (John 13:35). As a family, rather than community stuffing itself into the cracks of our lives and schedules like necessary spackle, I hope it’s part of the frame holding all of life together.

Prayer of the Dependent Parent

Lord, so much is working to pull us apart from other people—not the least of which is my own frenzy and my own fear. Help me model dependence and community rather than image management. Anchor my sense of worth in what Jesus has done, rather than in my own sense of perfection. Bring my family out of isolation and hurry, and lead us toward unity and full presence with others, like you were present with us (John 1:14).

Set in front of us the community of Acts 2:

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved (verses 42-47).