The Keys to 2019

On Saturday evening, my dear friend Kathy handed me the book, “The Gospel Comes with a House Key: Practicing Radically Ordinary Hospitality in Our Post-Christian World” by Rosaria Butterfield beautifully wrapped and tied up with shiny, gold curling ribbon.  Tears sprang to my eyes upon opening this lovely present because 1) I wasn’t expecting a Christmas gift from her, and 2) she knows that I have a thing with keys. You see, when I decided to do the World Race (an 11-month long mission trip to 11 different countries) in 2015, one of the ways that I fundraised was to hand-make and sell skeleton key necklaces that I called Keys to the Kingdom.

Ever since then, this theme of capital-H “Home” – as in our heavenly and eternal Home – is one that has resonated with my soul deeply, and keys have remained one of my favorite reminders of the reality that, as the children we met in Malawi would confidently sing – “my Home is beyond the sky.”  Last year, I discovered some leftover Keys to the Kingdom supplies just before the holiday season rolled around and decided to give them as gifts to several of my friends, including Kathy. As I assembled these necklaces, I got to reflect again on the deeply meaningful significance of a key. In my initial introduction to Keys to the Kingdom, I wrote:

A key means the door is always open to you.

A key means you are wanted and welcomed.

A key means you belong.

A key means you are trusted – doors only have locks if they are protecting something valuable, and you have been entrusted with something (or many things) of great worth.

A key means you are protected – when the storms of life come (both the literal and the figurative ones), you have a resting place you can run to and be safe.

A key means that you can walk right up to the Door and know that you are Home.

In light of these thoughts, I also decided to give Keys to two children that were being adopted from the foster care system by a couple that I’d gotten to know through work.  I wanted their children to have a tangible reminder that they had found a stable and loving home where they would always belong, and that this was a reflection of the eternal family of God that they were invited to join.  My friend texted me a couple of days after they opened their gifts and said that she’d found their son asleep in his bed, clutching the key in the palm of his little hand.

All of these words and memories came flooding back when I saw that small skeleton key image printed on the front cover of this thoughtful gift – hence, the tears.  The next day I saw my friend again, thanked her profusely for the lovely present, and tried to articulate in words how excited I was to read it. She smiled in that way that says “your joy is the greatest thanks you could offer” and I found myself again in awe of the wonderful people that the Lord has surrounded me with and how they embody His love in my life.

Our conversation continued as we meandered along the walking trails that weave through this small Arkansan town with her family trailing behind us.  She asked me if I had any New Year’s Resolutions and I replied, “Well, not exactly. But there are two things that I want to intentionally do more of in 2019: ask better questions (ie: “When did you have the most peace today?  What has made you smile the biggest or laugh the loudest lately?” instead of “How was your day?”) and spend more time with people who think and look and act and believe differently than me.” She responded with encouraging and insightful follow-up questions, then shared some of her own hopeful goals for 2019 as we were re-joined by her family and head back toward their house.  That was New Year’s Eve Eve.

The next day, as I was laying in bed putting off getting ready for a New Year’s Eve party because I already felt more exhausted than a two-year-old who hasn’t napped in three days, I opened up the book that I’d been given several days prior and began to read the Preface.  And right there, on page three of this gift that had been a tear-jerker in the most sacred of ways from the moment I’d laid eyes on it, I read the most beautiful description of the New Year’s resolution that I’d shared with Kathy less than 24 hours prior. She was just about to start the book as well, so she hadn’t even realized that there was such a strong connection between what the Lord had laid on my heart and what she had placed in my hands.  When I texted her about it afterward, she replied, “So beautiful the ways the Lord uses to ‘direct our path’! Prov. 3:5,6” Since taking the below picture, I have re-read this page at least a half dozen times and scribbled “2019” in the margin with bright yellow ink. All of this to say, here is the best description I didn’t know existed of my biggest goal for 2019:

I want to become someone who doesn’t “fuss over different worldviews represented at the dinner table.” I want to become someone who actually invites people over for dinner. Perhaps most of all, I want to always be someone who courageously accepts and respects people are different from me. This is the gospel, friends. This is how they will know us – by our love.

So, friends – cheers! To radically ordinary hospitality and timely gifts and life-changing words that will find their way to us in 2019.  May the Lord bless you richly in this next year.

with love and wanderlust,
Cassady