There Is Still Room

“‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’”
— Luke 14:22

This morning I stood in front of my fragrances trying to decide what to wear.

That is not an unusual problem for me.

But today I was thinking about something besides what smelled best.

I was thinking about proximity.

I knew I would be around people.

Sitting close.

Talking close.

Sharing space.

And some fragrances I love can absolutely take over a room.

Beautiful fragrance.

Wrong amount.

Wrong setting.

So I found myself thinking:

Maybe today I don’t need to project quite so much.

Maybe I can pull it back a little.

Let somebody else have some air.

Make room.

And almost immediately, that thought became bigger than fragrance.

Not everything beautiful needs to be loud

One of the first things you learn about fragrance is that more is not always better.

A fragrance can be incredible at three sprays and unbearable at twelve.

Nothing changed about the fragrance itself.

The problem is that it stopped sharing the space.

It became the space.

And maturity, at least in fragrance, means learning to pay attention to the room.

How close will people be?

How warm is it?

How long will we be together?

What kind of environment am I walking into?

There are moments to project.

There are moments to pull back.

Strength is not always measured by how much of the room you can occupy.

Sometimes strength is knowing you could take more space and choosing not to.

That sounds a lot like love.

“There is still room.”

Jesus once told a story about a man preparing a great banquet.

The invitations went out.

The food was ready.

The table was set.

But one by one, the expected guests began making excuses.

So the master told his servant to go into the streets and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame.

People who probably were not accustomed to being the first names on a guest list.

The servant did exactly what he was told.

Then he came back with this report:

“There is still room.”

I love that sentence.

The house was filling.

And still the heart of the host was:

Make room for more.

That seems to be something about the Kingdom of God.

Grace keeps pulling out another chair.

Senior year has a way of making you remember

We have been doing senior posts lately.

And this one feels different for me because it is Ruby’s senior year.

Every picture makes me remember another version of her.

Little Ruby.

Growing Ruby.

The Ruby we were still learning how to understand.

There were seasons when she experienced the world differently than we did.

She loved sensory things.

We used to give her shaving-cream baths because she could play in it and settle.

We built her a swing bed because movement helped her sleep.

There were things about her world that we had to learn.

And looking back now, I realize something.

Loving her did not always mean teaching her how to fit more comfortably into our world.

Sometimes love meant making room in ours for hers.

That feels different when the little girl you remember is suddenly a senior.

You realize how many seasons have come and gone.

How many things changed.

How much she changed.

How much we had to change.

Love kept learning.

Love adjusted.

Love made room.

Sometimes making room requires less of me

That may be what hit me standing in front of my fragrances this morning.

Making room is not always about adding something.

Sometimes it requires subtracting something from me.

One less spray.

One less opinion.

One less need to be right.

One less story about myself.

One less interruption.

One less demand that everybody experience the world the way I do.

Sometimes the most loving thing I can do is turn down my own projection.

That does not mean disappearing.

It does not mean becoming passive.

It does not mean your gifts, personality, leadership, voice, or presence do not matter.

It means understanding that the room was never meant to contain only your fragrance.

There are other people in it.

Other stories.

Other needs.

Other gifts.

Other seasons.

And maybe part of becoming like Jesus is learning how to leave enough room for them to breathe.

Who needs a little more room?

This week we have been talking about SOAR Special Needs and the simple beauty of creating places where children and families can play, celebrate, belong, and simply enjoy being together.

I love that.

Because celebration itself can say:

There is room for you here.

Not merely tolerance.

Not, We will figure out how to accommodate you.

Celebration.

We are glad you came.

The room is better because you are in it.

That should sound familiar to people who follow Jesus.

Because when Jesus told the story of the banquet, the people on the margins were not reluctantly squeezed into the back of the room.

They were invited to the table.

And still:

There was room.

What kind of room do you create?

Maybe that is the heart check for me this week.

When people get close to me, do they have room?

Room to speak.

Room to struggle.

Room to be different.

Room to grow.

Room to ask questions.

Room to need something.

Room to bring gifts I do not have.

Room to tell a story without me immediately telling a better one.

Room to become who God is shaping them to be rather than who I think they should become.

That question reaches into marriage.

Parenting.

Friendship.

Leadership.

Church.

Business.

Every place where another person comes within the reach of our lives.

Does my presence make room?

Maybe fragrance can teach us both lessons

A few weeks ago, I wrote about Mary breaking open her perfume and how the fragrance of her worship filled the room.

I still love that picture.

There are moments when faith should fill the room.

Generosity should fill the room.

Worship should fill the room.

Grace should fill the room.

But maybe fragrance can teach us another lesson too.

Because sometimes love fills a room by knowing when not to fill all of it.

Sometimes love projects.

Sometimes love pulls back.

Wisdom knows the difference.

So today I wore a little less.

Nothing dramatic.

Just enough to enjoy.

Enough to carry something pleasant.

But not so much that everyone close to me had to experience me before they experienced anything else.

And maybe there is a prayer hidden somewhere in that.

Jesus, teach me to carry Your fragrance without making everything about mine.

Teach me when to speak and when to listen.

When to step forward and when to step aside.

When to fill the room and when to make room.

Help me notice the people whose voices are being crowded out.

Help me pull out another chair.

Help my life say what the servant said that day:

There is still room.

Room at the table.

Room in the conversation.

Room in my schedule.

Room in my home.

Room in my heart.

Because maybe one of the most fragrant things love can do is simply create space for someone else.

Your life leaves a scent trail.

Make sure it leaves some room too.

Be fragrant.