The Lifegiving Home: Creating a Place of Belonging and Becoming

by Sally Clarkson

for the conviction was growing in our hearts that all this had somehow been arranged, that care had been taken to prepare a place for us, a rare and generous treat.

If we look at the lovely world that God designed for us, we can see a pattern for what He has always intended for us—a home environment filled with color and creativity and order, a welcoming provider of laughter and refuge, a space where memories are made and shared. Instead of creating us to live in a house of weariness and colorlessness, God has made us to live in a home full of soul-beautiful elements.

And so our home became a launching pad, a place of blessing, as we sent our beloved children on their way—hopefully strong, whole, and secure in the ideals, faith, and values that truly matter.

They were taking His light out into the darkness. But our home remained the lighthouse they could return to for rest and restoration in between the adventures that took them into the world.

my imagination and vision were once again piqued by the idea of intentionally making my home a holding place for all that is beautiful, good, holy, and foundational to life—a place where those I love always feel like they belong, a place of freedom and grace that launches them into the persons they were made to be, a place of becoming. In the midst of demanding, constantly pressured lives, we all need refresher courses from time to time about what we are building and why we must be intentional about doing it.

Family was God’s original organization scheme for society, and home was the laboratory where human beings could learn to glorify God through the work, relationships, and purposes of their lives. Home would be the place where love for God and commitment to His purposes would be passed down from one generation to another.

Each of us longs for a place to belong, a connection that gives roots to our wandering lives. Our hearts hunger for a community where we are intimate members, a sense of belonging to people who love us. Our souls crave a purpose bigger than our jobs, a connection to a sense of meaning. We yearn to know that our own stories have significance in the grander scheme of God’s megastory. All of these may be found in home—a place to belong, a people to be a part of, and a purpose where God’s righteousness and design are celebrated and cherished in community every day.

Homemaking—not in the sense of housekeeping, but in the broader sense of cultivating the life of a home—has to be done on purpose.

In order to thrive, I needed a place to be loved and restored, to find inspiration and purpose. The constructing of such a place was a way of seeing that my own heart, mind, and soul were filled up on a regular basis so that when I emerged from my home, I had resources to cope with the demands of my life.

God didn’t come merely to save us to a life beyond this world. He came to redeem the one we already inhabit.

The message of the gospel didn’t begin with death. It began with a world-startling life, the birth of God as a flesh-and-blood baby who lived out thirty-three years of robustly human life. The man Jesus showed us what it meant to live as creative, loving, constructive children of God, our Father.

Home is not merely a dwelling. It’s not merely a state of existence. It’s a story, a narrative spun out day by day, a story molded by the walls and hours and tasks and feasts with which we fill our time, reflecting the reality of the God whose love animates every aspect of our being.

Even as an orchestra needs a conductor to choose the music, lead rehearsals, and unite all of the instruments into a harmonious sound, so every home needs someone who conducts what I call the life music of a home—its atmosphere.

To invite someone into your home Is to take charge of their happiness For as long as they are under your roof.

As a Christ follower and doorkeeper of my home, I try to ensure that wisdom, truth, and the reality of God’s grace are kept within and that my home is a haven from the destructive voices of the outside world.

Home is to be a safe place, a refuge for all who enter, a protection from the harm and storms of the world. Yet often or even daily we open our doors—usually via television or the Internet—to ideas and images that can damage our faith, abuse our hearts and minds, scar our psyches, and tear apart our peace.

In order to protect ourselves and others from finding menacing influences, as much as possible, we must purpose ways to keep our homes as havens of all that is good, pure, innocent, and excellent. If the Lord guards our own coming and going, so we should be guards over what is allowed into our homes.

How can I pray without ceasing and bring that prayer into every aspect of making home if I cannot focus on anything for more than five seconds at a time?

When you understand the reality of incarnation, the way that the physical trappings of our lives and our use of time and space are places where God either comes in His creative presence or remains at bay, you understand that nothing is neutral. Nothing. You can’t just waste an hour on the Internet. You can’t just miss one sunrise in its beauty. No room is just space. No hour is meaningless. No meal is mere sustenance. Every rhythm and atom of existence are spaces in which the Kingdom can come, in which the story of God’s love can be told anew, in which the stuff of life can be turned marvelously into love.

Homemaking must be understood as a potent Kingdom endeavor, not merely a domestic task.

Whoever drew dinner duty was also responsible for setting out the candles and lighting them. We always had candles at the dinner table, whether we were eating toast and fruit or a multicourse meal. The act of lighting the candles quieted and civilized our mealtimes.

When I was a homeschooling mom with four little kids, I learned—and taught my children—to clear the table immediately after each meal, rinse the dishes and put them into the dishwasher, clean the crumbs and clutter off the countertops and table, and prepare for the next meal by setting the table. After a busy morning of lessons, we would stop and put away the morning clutter in the house before lunch. Then each afternoon at around five or six o’clock, I would gather all the family members still living at home, and we would take fifteen minutes to straighten the house.

Now I try to make a point to stop doing whatever I am doing when I see someone for the first time in the morning. I try to turn in that person’s direction, meet their eyes with a welcoming look, and greet them in some appropriate way.

While they splashed, I would sit down to rest and read or have a cup of something just for me, even if the dishes were still in the sink and the house was a wreck. I would spend those few minutes restoring myself because I wanted to be available to extend a nighttime blessing to each of the kids.

I have realized over many years that crafting a culture of love—gracious, sacrificial, validating, forgiving love—requires a loving and generous heart. It also requires planning, intention, mature responses, words of life and affirmation, patience, and the investment of endless hours. It also means choosing, again and again, to focus on what really matters in life.

So often we get caught up in the immediate things, the practical tasks—getting the housework done, doing our jobs, checking homework, paying bills, disciplining our children. Yet it is the emotional and spiritual atmosphere our children and friends breathe—the way we treat people, the foundations of grace we live by, that will attach their hearts to ours and ultimately to God.

Often I have been asked, “How have your children held to a high standard of morality when they are living in such secular places?” God’s grace is my first answer. Yet, as I have prayed about it, I’ve also come to think that our home culture of love—shared and cultivated together, treasuring Christ in our midst every day—spoke to their hearts and tied them to our mutual commitments of faith. A strong family culture helps create a strong sense of identity that keeps a person faithful in the days of temptation. And a strong home culture of faith and love gives strength to resist the powerful draw of a secular world.

A simple way that we taught a pattern for manners in our family and in discipleship relationships was based on three simple words: Stop! Look! Listen! Here is how we taught these principles to our kids: Stop! When you meet someone—a friend, someone in the family, or a guest in our home—stop and take a moment to ponder him or her. This is a person created by God. It is your stewardship to honor that person as someone who has value in God’s eyes. Decide in your heart to give honor to all you meet. Breathe in the reality that the person right in front of you is more important than the dutiful tasks at hand. Choose an attitude that is right for the moment. Look! Observe the person’s personality, age, and needs to determine how you might make his or her life a little better. If it is a child, talk to him and offer a toy, a book, or a way to occupy his time. If it is an adult, observe her needs—does she need rest? Food? Companionship? How can you help her feel comfortable or at home? Help guests in your home feel they belong by showing them where they can find what they need—food, coffee and tea and mugs, a place to rest, a movie to watch, a shelf of books. Listen! Most people have a deep desire to be known, understood, and affirmed. Take initiative to ask them questions about themselves. Get to know their stories, listen to what they are telling you with their words, emotions, eyes, and body language. Practice responding to people by perceiving what they are communicating. Reac...

In the same way, with each new name children learn, with each description they hear of the world, language is teaching them what to pay attention to, how to perceive it, and what value to place upon it.

As we strode that summer road with the energy of the high season all around us, we recalled the stories of history and fiction that had formed our dreams. We examined their respective heroes: Lucy in The Chronicles of Narnia and Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings. Audie Murphy (World War II hero), Corrie ten Boom, Alfred the Great, the martyred saint Perpetua, English abolitionist William Wilberforce. If they could fight and love, defeat darkness, make beauty, why couldn’t we? With each step we imagined the future, each pulse of blood bringing our dreams of bravery into speech. Everything seemed possible then, and that sense of potential filled us with a breathless laughter.

Brambly Hedge books by Jill Barklem,

Thinking about that evening, knowing that Jesus, too, was weary when He served most generously, has given me strength on many a demanding night.

Always His heart and words were focused on His beloved band of friends. Always He was thinking of how to prepare them, to strengthen them. Not even in His death did He focus on His own needs. He did all of this for those who could not comprehend His coming sacrifice, the depth of His choice to humble Himself, or the vast generosity that was being expended from a heart overflowing with love for them. Only much later would their understanding dawn.

truth told without love and grace is a truth that is rejected. Would Jesus’ message have had the same impact without His feeding thousands and taking children into His arms and washing the feet of His friends? It is in service that God incarnate is recognized. And service begins with serving those who are closest to us, making home the very best place to be.

When I ponder the amazing variety of what God has given human beings to eat—fruit, vegetables, spices, meats, fish, beans, nuts, cheeses, drinks, sweets, textures, colors, and tastes—I have to deduce that the Creator of the universe cares a great deal about sustaining us and giving us pleasure. The life Artist who crafted humans with noses to smell, skin to feel, tastes to savor, eyes to approve color and beauty, and minds to enjoy engaging with others intended to make Himself known through all of these senses and faculties. These pleasures God wanted His children to enjoy—sights, tastes, smells, sounds, warm emotions—all have the power to stir a heart alive, to inspire a soul to hope.

Lord Jesus, thank You for serving crowds, washing toes, holding children gently in Your arms, and healing even old women who take from you. Let me learn from You, that I might give in the same way to those You bring into my home. Teach me to find practical ways to lighten loads that are carried through my doors. Help me to have patience with the grumbling hearts, the frustrated ones who carry their depressed moods wherever they go. Help me to remember always that “a gentle answer turns away wrath” (Proverbs 15:1). Allow me to walk in humility that others may see my failures and the grace You have given me every day. Help me remember that Your strength is made perfect through my weakness, and make me quick to ask for forgiveness. Let me remember that my home is a holy place where You do Your work. And here may the touch of Jesus, the words of Jesus, the love of Jesus, the truth of Jesus be served every day to all who hunger for Your reality. In the name of the most generous servant of all, precious Jesus, we come with grateful hearts.

The goodwill of mothers is like the goodwill of God. In that moment, I was keenly aware of its lack in myself and could only conclude that it was a gift that would come with time and generosity. My mother’s will toward us, her children, was so persistently, so relentlessly good—a will to bless, to delight, whether or not we deserved it.

Though our family was not involved in a liturgical tradition when I was growing up, we did observe Advent through the simple practices of having an Advent wreath in our home and using a family devotional focusing on the Old Testament prophecies fulfilled in the coming of Christ.