"For two years, I shared my home with more than 30 children, four freedom fighters, a government bureaucrat, a wife-beater, a Red Cross worker with a taste for liquor, a number of prostitutes, a madman, and all the customers of the tea shop next door."

No, this is not a personal confession.

Instead, it's the story of Maria Said, a newspaper reporter who spent some time doing international development in the African desert. Writing in the Christian magazine Re:generation Quarterly, she admits that sharing her home with such a complex crowd was not her original intention, "but rather the unexpected circumstance of living in a room with only half-walls."

A room with half-walls. What a way to live! That means lots of exposure. Lots of community. Lots of opportunities to connect.

Maybe TOO MANY opportunities, at least at first glance.

When she decided to work in international development, Maria imagined living in a small hut of her own, with a palm tree to the side. She had a vision of the desert akin to today's Scripture from Isaiah, especially the opening lines: "The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing" (35:1-2).

Instead, when she first hit town, she didn't feel much joy and gladness. She found that no housing had been arranged for her, no private hut and no personal palm tree. Finally, a townsman showed her an empty place, a room with walls that reached only to the level of her head.

She was destined to spend the next two years celebrating only half-wall holidays.

What an adjustment this required. "Traditionally, the desert calls mystics into its presence," she reflects, "and its vast silence allows them to confront the chaos in their hearts. But my half-erected home forced me away from the solitude I found so comfortable and placed me amid the chaos that occurs in the space between people."

Maria quickly discovered that her lofty and idealistic notions of "community" and "neighbor" quickly came down to earth and took concrete form. In this kind of community, there were no time-outs allowed -- no private moments to take a deep breath, reapply the makeup, or brush down loose ends. The rough edges of day-to-day life didn't get smoothed down in a half-wall world ... they became rougher.

Such exposure is painful, but so important to personal and spiritual growth. Maria was forced to recognize that she was neither as nice nor as neighborly as she had always assumed. She couldn't maintain an image of perfection. She couldn't escape the judgment of others.

She couldn't be the person of her dreams.

This is tough for us, isn't it? We love our privacy in the United States, and enjoy retreating to the haven of home at the end of a hectic day. I know I do. We like to take time-outs and straighten ourselves up before we have to go out and face the world again. Especially in this season of parties and programs and other end-of-the-year events, we want to make sure we are looking our very best and living our private dream of a truly fabulous and festive Christmas season. The very last thing we want is the judgment of others.

But maybe what we need, in order to be truly happy, is a half-wall holiday.

You see, as long as we remain locked in a private fantasy world, we're going to behave in ways that hurt ourselves and others. As long as we show one face in public and another face in private, we're going to split ourselves right down the middle in a painful and paralyzing way. As long as we keep retreating from the world when the going gets tough, we're going to find that we move farther and farther from the very community that can correct us and guide us and support us when we need help the most.

Maria discovered that it is much easier to be a hypocrite when life is divided into public and private parts. In a community united by half-walls, however, there is little room for false appearances ... for deceptions ... for self-serving fantasies and dreams. She found that in the desert, the physical nearness of people imposed order on her speech and actions. She couldn't be charming in public and nasty in private, because every private outburst was quickly a matter of public record.

This drawing together of the public and the private is something we all need. Even preachers. ESPECIALLY preachers. There's a cartoon I love that shows a pastor's wife speaking to her husband. She says, "I have a great idea! Let's reverse things. Today you be grouchy at church and charming at home." (John Lawing, The Lighter Side of Church Life [Wheaton, Illinois: Tyndale House Publishers, 1989], 159)

My wife Nancy knows how true this is.

We need to draw together the public and the private. Can we begin with some half-wall holidays?

During this season of Advent and Christmas, let's open ourselves further to the involvement of God in our day-to-day lives. "Here is your God," proclaims the prophet Isaiah. "He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you" (v. 4). Isaiah captures so beautifully the dual purpose of God's coming, the dual nature of his involvement in human life. God is both a truth-teller and a healer, a righteous judge and a loving savior. In taking this approach, he provides us with a half-wall experience, stripping away our pretenses and helping us to bring together our public and our private parts.

Then comes the good part: The work of healing and salvation. "Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened," promises the prophet, "and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy" (vv. 5-6). Once we have opened ourselves fully to God, and laid our lives before him in complete candor and honesty, then we find that the unexpected and life-giving healing comes. Our eyes are opened and our ears unstopped; suddenly, the lame can leap and the speechless can sing.

This is the blessing of a half-wall holiday. It requires honesty and confession, but it results in fresh connections and newness of life. It invites us to move closer to Jesus, the one God sent to break down the dividing wall of hostility (Ephesians 2:14). Jesus introduced not only a new relationship between God and people, but between human beings, one to another.

If we experience such a relationship, times of joy and comfort will emerge. Maria Said reports that in her half-wall world, one of the women who lived next door became her best friend. When the dust storms came and the lights blew out, the woman would place her candles on top of the wall so that the two of them could share the light. On nights when she worked late, Maria passed bowls of American-style food over the wall and listened as the woman and the tea shop customers tried to identify and swallow the strange meals. Each night, after they dragged their rope beds out of the hot rooms into the small courtyards, they would whisper over the wall and wish blessings for the next day. The woman called Maria "sister" and made her a part of her family.

So, what can YOU do to lower the walls of this holiday season? Can you share the light of Christmas with a co-worker who is going to be alone in the weeks to come? Can you replace a pseudo-sense of community -- one that focuses only on festive events and cheery sentiments -- with a community that embraces people who are suffering and grieving at this time of year? Can you peer over your walls of privacy, self-concern, and personal gratification, and make an honest connection with a neighbor, one in which the truth is told and real struggles are shared?

This is not to say that all privacy must be completely eliminated: We're talking HALF-walls here, not NO walls. But let's cut down the high walls that are presently in place, so that we can see people around us in the church and in the community, and take steps to really enter their lives and reach out to them and touch them with the love of Jesus Christ.

Our God is constantly committed to the breaking of barriers. Although we often enjoy our isolation, we should never get too comfortable with it, for it blocks us from the full experience of our faith. "I have to remember that I stand before God in a room with no walls," reflects Maria Said, now that she has returned to the United States. "He calls us to reach out to our neighbors over the half-erected walls, and be seen." (Maria Said, "Half-Walls Between Us," Re:generation Quarterly, Spring 1999)

A half-wall faith. What a way to live! Lots of exposure. Lots of community. Lots of opportunities to connect.

Let's reach out, and be seen. Amen.