Mediocrity

A couple of things I read today are sticking in my mind.

First, a question: What if God called you to be mediocre? (YIKES!...hold on, don't freak out yet.)

Second, a scripture: Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Colossians 4.5

I'm in a season of life that feels a little bit in between. I'm an adult, but I don't have my own family. I have a job, but it's not what I want to do forever. I live in a house, but I don't own one. I like my city, but I don't think I want to live here forever. There are some pretty big things I want to do with my life, but I'm not doing them yet. That's okay with me, it's just where I am.

But I find myself hesitant to let my roots grow into this place of life, literally and figuratively, because I don't want it to be permanent. I want to do great, big things and I want to travel widely and I want my name on the cover of books. And so, in my wanting of these things, living as a single girl here in this small-ish city, working at this job where few products of my time bear my name, and basically existing in a small sphere of influence, I sometimes feel like my life is mediocre. My daily routine does not effect the world, and maybe that should be disappointing.

So then, the question above, is slaying, eh? What if God is calling you to be mediocre? What if God is giving me this life and this little area of space & time and saying here you are, Hope. This is what I have for you to do. Use your gifts, I'll provide.

My favorite part about my house in this city is the space it provides to build relationships-- with my roommates, with my mission group, my church, my neighbors, the friends I have made at random and the ones I have known for my lifetime. And so the line from Colossians is especially perfect. I have the space in my life now to walk towards outsiders and make them feel like insiders. As a single woman, I have time. I have evenings and weekends and energy that can be put towards a "mediocre" life-- appetizers and football, wine and a sprawling back porch, card games and raucous laughter.

I do not think anyone famous will care to come to my little house for the pure pleasure of the company of my friends who have chosen to live in this city, I do not think I will receive recognition from editors or publishing houses because I host a party for no reason at all, and I do not think that matters a bit.

The best use of my time is to live intentionally. To open up spaces and hearts for relationships that are true and deep. It might feel small sometimes, but to the person who would be sitting alone in her apartment otherwise, it will feel very, very large.

And that matters.