I’ve always loved home. Growing up, I actually spent a fair amount of time outside the home: I attended public schools and was involved in multiple extracurriculars during the school year, and in the summers, I traveled a fair amount—on vacations with my parents and brother, and also independent of my family to camps, friends’ houses, and missions trips. But home was consistently a safe, welcoming place to come back to, and as much as I loved being away, I was always happiest when I got to return to our home. Home was the cozy kitchen where we gathered for delicious home-cooked meals; the living room that was the construction site for countless pillow forts; the backyard swing that my dad made just for me; my parents’ waterbed where I’d catch quick naps or nestle under the covers on nights when chronic stomachaches kept me awake. Our house in the suburbs was not especially large or extravagant, but it was always pristinely clean and comfortingly calm, exuding welcoming warmth and fostering familial connection. Home was where I could be just me.
I’ve further embraced my homebody tendencies as an adult. Our homeschooling family rarely travels and prefers a minimalist schedule. In other words, we spend a LOT of time in our home, and though I’ve come to terms with the fact that my homemaking skills will never hold a candle to my mother’s ability to keep an immaculate house, I strive to cultivate the same environment of security and contentment for my children that my parents created for me.
Because I am literally present in my own home more than anywhere else, Phylicia Masonheimer’s Every Home a Foundation seemed a fitting first choice as a book related to my Word for this year. In it, Phylicia (a theologian and also a young homeschooling mom to four) invites readers into a Biblical understanding of home as “a vital place for Christian believers [as] the seat of discipleship, where people are most comfortable, safe, and freely themselves.” She explains how a theology of home “teaches us God’s desire for and purpose within the places we live” and emphasizes that the daily tasks of home are not simply part of living, but a place where we can find God.
Phylicia begins with a deep-dive into the history of home, which has shifted drastically from the days when “home, work, and faith were integrated and inseparable.” Beginning with the Industrial Revolution, when people left their farms and personal businesses to work in cities, a divide began to form between work and home; this division ultimately led to the work of home being seen as less valuable. Phylicia explains, “Before the sexual revolution, the shattering impact of world wars, and the Industrial Revolution, the family handed down an appreciation for the home. Though by no means idyllic or even moral, without even thinking about it, parents and grandparents (who not uncommonly lived all together) handed down the knowledge of home and its purpose. . . this handing down of home legacy built a sense of purpose and identity in the home.”
Today, few of us see our homes as the centers of discipleship and growth that they once were. But if we want our homes to reflect the priorities of Christ, we need to begin seeing them as places where we can (in the words of John Tweeddale) “cultivate Christlike virtues that animate who we are in private and facilitate what we do in public.” Phylicia paints a picture for what this might look like as she offers suggestions for replacing discontent and comparison with a love for the homes we have, which involves “releasing control of the things you just can’t change and taking charge of the things you can.”
Phylicia provides specific examples for creating a culture of faith within our homes, regardless of the size of our house or the number of people living under our roof. She also offers hope for those coming from broken families of origin, reminding us of the legacy all believers have in Christ and reiterating Christ’s ability to redeem heartbreaking generational chains. She then goes on to describe various spiritual rhythms we might consider adopting in our home (such as following a liturgical calendar) and she offers some helpful mindset shifts that will help us stop resenting the work of the home and begin finding joy and purpose within ordinary household work.
The book’s second half gets deeply practical as Phylicia walks us through the various tasks of homemaking and shows how they can become acts of character refinement and worship as we bring “the daily tasks and routines of home under the Spirit’s leading.” These liturgies (“physical actions leading to communion with God [that] remind us of spiritual realities using earthly things”) can take the form of more traditional disciplines, like prayer and the study of Scripture, but they can also come in the form of scrubbing baseboards, sorting laundry, mending clothes, preparing meals, or welcoming others into our home. Phylicia’s application of spiritual terms to these mundane chores might be unconventional, but as someone whose primary worship necessarily takes place at home these days, I appreciated her interpretations and the constant reminder that our acts of service and ministry do not pause the minute we cross the thresholds of our own houses.
In the book’s hands-on chapters, Phylicia outlines many of the routines and strategies that work for her household, from her laundry routine to her meal ideas, her gardening schedule, and her strategies for keeping each room of her home tidy. While these rhythms won’t work for every household, it was helpful to see one family’s approach to the types of tasks that we all face in our homes. I personally found these helpful and made note of several specific ideas that I might adopt into my chore rhythms; individuals who did not have a parent modeling the day-to-day tasks of homemaking will likely find even more value in these suggestions.
For me, the greatest takeaways were not the how-to’s, but the reminders that these tasks are not futile or unimportant. The tasks of home are not simply done as a means to an end, and while they do have the added benefits of making our houses comfortable for our families and for those we invite into our homes, the tasks in themselves hold value. I can experience God’s presence as I dust my bookshelves and search for that missing sock and serve up the thousandth snack of the day. These aren’t distractions from what God is doing in my life, they are part of it.
Throughout Every Home a Foundation—and especially in the final chapter on hospitality—Phylicia places a strong emphasis on our homes being places of ministry for people beyond the members of our family. It is this emphasis that will stick with me the most. As an Introvert who prioritizes family time over all other social interactions, I was reminded that my home is not just for those who share my last name. God has gifted me this home in order to bless others, and having young children and an aversion to busyness is not an excuse for avoiding hosting opportunities. My home can be the foundation for the faith of our own family unit, but it shouldn’t stop there. It doesn’t matter if my home is small or not entirely tidy, or if the food I prepare isn’t gourmet, because hosting others in my home is not about showing off my homemaking skills: “hospitality is never about is. It’s about loving others the way God does.”
Whenever I’m asked my profession on a form, I list my job title as “Homemaker.” Every Home a Foundation has provided me with useful tools and important frameworks for embracing this title in a way that welcomes the Lord into every aspect of my daily work. And while the book is ESPECIALLY helpful for those of us who spend the vast majority of our time in our houses, it is a relevant guide for anyone who lives in a home and wants to experience more of God’s presence within its walls.
My Book Rating: 4 Stars // Book Format: Print
If you’re looking for more book reviews for this month, I’ve got you covered! I’ll be back this Thursday with a Quick Lit post reviewing ten other titles I read last month. See you then!
