Our volunteers—and often their children—would hang back, allowing the participating children and mothers to be served before getting their own lunches.

It was a gracious gesture. And yet, something about it unsettled me.

I began asking God, Are you showing me something about kingdom community here, or am I just being “Deanna” about this?

Is this simply an expression of hospitality—or could it be subtly reinforcing an identity that works against belonging?

Here’s what I know:

Serving guests first can be a beautiful way to honor and welcome them. It makes me think about a small group I’m hosting in my home this fall. When guests come to dinner for the first time, I will undoubtedly serve them first. It will be my joy to do so.

But as they return week after week, my heart will begin to long for something more.

I will want us to become a community.

More specifically, a biblical community.

Scripture gives us a window into God’s heart for life together. Throughout his letters, Paul repeatedly uses the phrase “one another” as he instructs followers of Jesus to:

• Serve one another (Galatians 5:13)

• Carry one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2)

• Encourage and build up one another (1 Thessalonians 5:11)

• Teach and admonish one another (Colossians 3:16)

• Submit to one another (Ephesians 5:21)

One another.

These are not one-sided commands. They describe a mutual exchange among the members of a community. Everyone has something to give, and everyone must remain willing to receive.

But when we enter spaces marked by socioeconomic differences, we can easily fall into fixed roles: those with more material resources become the ones who serve, while those with fewer resources become the ones being served.

Without intending to, we may begin communicating:

We are the hosts; they are the recipients.

We have something to offer; they have needs.

We belong here; they have been invited into our space.

We serve; they receive.

I think this is what my heart was sensing. Even gracious habits can quietly reinforce a social hierarchy rather than cultivate mutuality.

So, what formational practice did this realization invite us into?

At lunchtime, everyone got up and joined the line.

Sometimes that meant a volunteer ate before a Lighthouse mother.

Sometimes a team member’s child ate before a Lighthouse student.

Sometimes a Lighthouse mother brought food and helped provide lunch for everyone.

We were not trying to establish a new rule about who should eat first. Children could still be cared for. Guests could still be honored. Particular needs could still receive particular attention.

We were simply practicing the truth that this meal—and this community—belonged to all of us.

Everyone had enough to eat. We never ran out of food.

Was it uncomfortable for me at times?

Yep.

My instincts kept telling me to step back and make sure “our families” went first. But I wanted to remain in that discomfort long enough to examine what those categories revealed. Who was included in our? Who was serving? Who was receiving? Who was permitted to contribute?

The Needle Mover Effect is after something greater than providing a good program or performing generous service. We want to help cultivate communities in which people experience the dignity of being known, needed, and able to contribute.

A healthy relational progression might look something like this:

This progression is not necessarily linear, and hospitality does not disappear once mutuality develops. We continue honoring and caring for one another—but the identities of “host” and “guest,” “giver” and “receiver,” are no longer permanently assigned to different groups of people.

The invitation for everyone remains the same:

Will you help shape a culture of mutual belonging in our shared space?

We may begin by serving our neighbors as honored guests. But we hope to grow into a community where everyone is known, everyone can contribute, and everyone both gives and receives.

Maybe the question is not simply, Who should eat first?

Maybe it is, What kind of community are we becoming as we eat together?

We parked, and our setup team immediately descended on our trunks and began unpacking our mobile literacy program.

Usually, the neighborhood is quietly waking up around the time we arrive. As we set up, we normally begin to see a few neighbors walking about, and the wonderful aromas from several women who run a cooking business slowly fill the air.

The neighborhood was usually quiet when we arrived—but it was never this quiet.

It was eerily still.

We kept unpacking and setting up. Then we waited for our families to appear.

One student walked up to the check-in table alone.

Next came one mom with her two students and two babies.

At 10:10 a.m., it was time to begin.

And that was it.

Three students sat on our blankets, ready to listen to the day’s read-aloud.

We wondered, “Where are our other students?”

Still, we kept moving forward with the program.

Eventually, one more mom arrived with her student. Now we had four students present.

Around 10:30 a.m., I headed over to our moms’ tent to check in with them.

As soon as I sat down, a volunteer asked me, “Did you hear what happened?”

I said no, and she quickly filled me in on what the two moms in the tent had shared with her:

ICE had been there the day before.

And agents were still in the area.

Suddenly, the stillness made sense.

Our moms sat with our team and shared their fears and anxieties. We were able to give them a place to talk, process, and pray together.

At 11:00 a.m., three more students arrived. Now we had seven students—and two more mothers.

We transitioned from literacy time to play activities. Our students lit up, as they always do at this point, and began playing water games.

Soon, there was laughter and noise.

The stillness that had greeted us that morning was finally interrupted by laughter.

Oh, what a welcome sound.

For a little while, the heaviness lifted.

We ended our day with Bible time and a community lunch, and everyone left around noon.

We broke down our equipment, gathered for our team debrief, and closed in prayer—for our neighbors, for the complicated realities they live with, and for our own broken hearts.

As we drove away, members of our team witnessed an ICE pursuit and arrest directly across the street from our site.

We all went home.

But our neighbors stayed.

That Saturday, our team was introduced to another dimension of what it means to walk alongside our neighbors: walking with people who live with daily fear, worry, and uncertainty about possible deportation and separation from their children and loved ones.

The stories behind these fears are varied and deeply personal, and we are slowly being invited into them.

And we are learning.

Learning what it means to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Learning what it means to remain present when we cannot make everything right.

Perhaps this is part of how Jesus transforms us into his image: by teaching us to remain present, to listen, to grieve, and to love our neighbors when we cannot make their circumstances right.

As he does, I believe he is forming all of us into his Kingdom community.

As I write this, the tears have returned. My heart is heavy again.

But I am not hopeless.

I pray that our neighbors are not hopeless either. And if they are, may they come to know the unfailing, unrelenting love of a suffering Savior who sees them fully and walks with them in their suffering.

May they know the sovereign Lord who told us that we would have trouble in this world, but also told us to take heart—because he has overcome the world.

And if they do not yet know him as the One who walks with us in suffering, Father, will you use the Lighthouse to gently guide them toward the Good Shepherd who watches over his sheep?

This is my prayer today.

Our Summer Literacy Lighthouse serves lunch to our students, parents, and volunteers, so anyone paying attention to our outdoor setup can easily spot our food-and-hospitality tent.

What I didn’t expect was that three simple requests for lunch would become an invitation for our own transformation.

Needle Movers believes in thoughtful engagement with material poverty. That means slowing down to consider and discern what is truly helpful, rather than simply responding from our compassionate desire to meet an immediate need.

That is much easier said than done.

Our hearts’ instinct was simple: Just give them food.

After all, doesn’t Scripture instruct us to give when someone asks?

“Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.” — Luke 3:10–11

“If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food... and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? ... Faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.” — James 2:15–17

These passages should make us uncomfortable with indifference. They certainly make me uncomfortable.

But they also raised another question for us.

If our mission is to cultivate relationships with neighbors navigating material poverty while also acknowledging our shared relational poverty—our broken relationships with God, ourselves, one another, and the stewardship of God’s creation—then perhaps our first question isn’t simply, Should we give?

Perhaps our first question is:

Who are we becoming as we love our neighbor?

That question led us to consider two values that continually shape our work: agency and dignity.

Consideration #1: How can we honor agency?

By agency, I mean the protection of a person’s ability to choose.

Every student, parent, and volunteer who joins our Literacy Lighthouse has chosen to be in relationship with us. We plan for those relationships. We budget around those relationships. We share meals because of those relationships.

So when someone outside that circle asks for food, our question becomes:

How can we invite this neighbor into a relationship rather than simply provide a transaction?

Consideration #2: How can we honor dignity?

By dignity, I mean protecting a person’s opportunity to contribute when they have the capacity to do so.

Think about a neighborhood clean-up you’ve participated in. Have you ever noticed able-bodied neighbors watching from nearby? Sometimes, there are circumstances we can’t see that prevent someone from joining. But often, there aren’t.

Material poverty does not automatically mean someone lacks the ability to contribute.

Sometimes, the most compassionate response isn’t simply giving something away. Sometimes it’s creating an opportunity for someone to participate, contribute, and exercise their own agency.

When we consistently meet needs people are capable of helping meet themselves, our generosity can unintentionally erode the very dignity we’re hoping to protect.

So we asked ourselves:

How can we partner with this neighbor in a way that honors both their need and their dignity?

Where We Landed

We decided to invite each neighbor into relationship with us.

Instead of simply handing them a meal, we invited them to return at noon, help our team break down the day’s program, and then join us for lunch.

Something like this:

“What’s your name? My name is Deanna, and I’m the Director of the Literacy Lighthouse, where we help elementary students here in Pine Haven strengthen their reading skills over the summer.

We invite our students, parents, and volunteers to share lunch together each week. If you’re willing, we’d love to have you come back at noon, help us with our breakdown team, and then join us for lunch.”

And then...

We let them choose.

That invitation protected several things at once.

1. It honored the choices our current volunteers and families had already made to be in relationship with us.

2. It protected our children by inviting new neighbors into a role that didn’t require a background check.

3. It helped us steward our limited resources wisely by planning for volunteers rather than responding unpredictably each week.

4. Most importantly, it gave our neighbors something more than a meal. It gave them an invitation into (potentially) something deeper and lasting.

Is That Making Someone Jump Through Hoops?

Maybe that’s what you’re thinking.

Maybe this feels like unnecessary hoops for someone who simply asked for food.

And honestly...

There may be situations where this approach would not be the right one.

Every person and every circumstance deserves discernment.

But that’s exactly what we’re learning.

For Needle Movers, our desire is to embed ourselves in a community for the long haul. That means we can’t only ask, How do we meet today’s need?

We also have to ask:

What recurring needs are we noticing?

What might be underneath these requests?

How is God inviting us to respond?

Who is He forming us to become as we do?

We’re learning to resist reacting on instinct—even compassionate instinct—and instead to ask how we might love this particular neighbor in a way that honors both their dignity and their agency.

Here’s the thing: we don’t know yet what these conversations will become.

Maybe they’ll lead to friendships.

Maybe they’ll lead nowhere.

Maybe we’ll discover that this approach needs to change.

But we’re convinced that slowing down long enough to ask better questions is already changing us.

Because the goal isn’t simply to meet needs.

It’s to become the kind of people who love wisely.

We want to be...

Slow.
Wise.
Thoughtful.
Intentional.
Merciful.
Humble.
Loving.

And perhaps that’s one of the unexpected gifts of living among our neighbors.

The needs around us aren’t only revealing what our community lacks.

They’re revealing who we are becoming.

In my next post, I’ll tell you what happened when our neighbors responded to the invitation.

I’m staring down a launch deadline for a new literacy initiative in my city, and I spend more time feeling lost than making progress.

How am I going to put together a summer program in two months?

Will I have enough volunteers?

What am I doing for lesson plans?

Who else do I need to talk to about funding?

Will I ever learn Spanish well enough to talk to the families I want to work with?

I’m not an anxious person, but lately I’ve been waking up at night with anxious feelings brought on by overwhelm and fear.

When it happens, all I can do is pray whisper, “Help me.”

I lay there still (so not to wake Eddie) and remind myself that the reason I’m feeling anxious is that sometime that day, I must have crossed over to trusting in myself instead of Him.

I’ve been drinking from a temporal, unsustainable well somewhere.

And in order to survive this, I must return to the eternal Well to refresh, restore, remember.

Remember who God is, and remember who I am.

God is the sovereign Father, and He only can quench my thirst.

I am His child who must totally depend on her Father.

I must return to the Well.

During Lent, I’ve been meditating on Psalm 63:1, which says this:

You, God, are my God,

earnestly I seek you;

I thirst for you,

my whole being longs for you,

in a dry and parched land

where there is no water.

David’s words remind me daily that there is no living water outside of God. The only thing available for me outside of God is a dry and parched land.

Anxiousness = my thirst for God.

My prayer today is simply this:

You, God, are my God,

earnestly, I seek you;

I thirst for you,

my whole being longs for you.

Fill me up, Lord,

because where I’m at, there is no water.

You long for your church to embody biblical unity.
But you’re not always sure how to shepherd conversations about race in a way that is grounded, gracious, and deeply rooted in Scripture.

You don’t want culture to disciple your people.
You don’t want fear to disciple them either.

You want Jesus to form them.

That’s why I created Healing Racial Wounds Through the Way of Jesus.

What This Resource Is

This is not:

• A political framework

• A diversity training

• A debate guide

• A reaction to cultural headlines

It is a spiritual formation pathway for churches and small groups.

At its core is a simple movement:

Finding Yourself → Finding God → Finding Us

It gently guides participants to:

• Name how culture has formed them

• Bring racial pain, confusion, and defensiveness to Jesus

• Let Scripture reshape identity

• Practice unity rather than perform it

This is discipleship work.

And discipleship is slow, relational, and Spirit-formed.

What’s Included

With this resource, you receive:

• 🎥 A full-length video teaching (that can be shown in one sitting or divided into sections)

• 📄 A printable small group discussion guide

• 🧭 Leader prompts to help facilitate thoughtful, safe conversations

• 📖 Scripture anchors throughout

• ✨ Suggested spiritual practices that cultivate unity over time

It’s structured but flexible.
You can use it as a one-night gathering or a short 2–3 week small group series.

A Note About Radical Belonging

If you’ve been following my work, you know that I talk often about Radical Belonging — an identity rooted in God that says:

The children of God belong to God,
and as citizens of His Kingdom,
we belong to one another.

Healing racial wounds is not separate from that vision.

It’s part of it.

Because belonging becomes fragile when unexamined formation goes untouched.
Unity becomes performative when wounds remain unhealed.

This resource is one expression of the broader Radical Belonging framework I’m developing — helping churches move from reaction to formation, from cultural narratives to biblical identity, from avoidance to Spirit-shaped practice.

It’s not the whole curriculum.

But it is an important doorway.

Who This Is For

This resource is especially helpful if:

• Your church has avoided this topic out of uncertainty

• Conversations feel tense or reactive

• You want to disciple your people without importing cultural frameworks

• You sense that unspoken wounds are shaping your community

You do not need to be an expert to lead this.

You need to be surrendered.

Why I Created It

This resource was born out of my own journey.

I realized that racial pain, reactions, and assumptions were shaping me in ways I hadn’t fully surrendered to Christ.

Healing didn’t begin with strategy.

It began with belonging.

Before I sorted my story, I already belonged to Jesus.
And so did the people I struggled to understand.

That realization changed how I lead.

And it continues shaping the broader Radical Belonging work I’m building for the Church.

If you’re ready to shepherd your people toward deeper, Spirit-formed unity — without fear and without performance — this resource is for you.

You can access the full video teaching and the downloadable small-group guide below.

Healing Racial Wounds Video Lesson

Small Group Reflection Questions

Let’s keep becoming the kind of Church Jesus is forming.

— Deanna

How do we welcome people well?
How do we make sure no one feels left out?
What systems, programs, or responses will help people feel like they belong?

These are important questions.
They’re faithful questions.
They’re questions I’ve asked myself for years.

But over time, I’ve begun to notice something beneath them.

When belonging begins with what we do, it quietly places the weight of belonging on our effort.

If we respond the right way.
If we offer the right resource.
If we create the right environment.

Then belonging will happen.

And while that approach can look compassionate on the surface, it often reveals something deeper: an insecurity about belonging itself.

At least, that’s what it has revealed in me.

When Belonging Feels Fragile, Fixing Feels Necessary

When I’m not rooted in a secure sense of belonging with God, my posture toward my poor neighbors is shaped by my anxiety about performing for them rather than by trust in an identity already given to me.

I tend to move quickly in a crisis.
I try to offer solutions to problems I may not fully understand the complexities of.
I rush to fix their situation, or even worse, fix them, instead of listening.

Not because I don’t care—but because, somewhere inside me, proving my Christian belonging still feels like something I must do.

And when belonging feels fragile like this, fixing the poor will always feel urgent.

This shows up most clearly with me when someone names a need.

A neighbor shares they’re struggling financially.
A parent hints that things are tight.
A friend admits they’re overwhelmed.

Before they finish the sentence, my mind is already racing.

Do I know a program?
A resource?
A solution?

Without realizing it, I’ve already stepped into the role of fixer.

But my relationship with my neighbors doesn’t begin with my ability or action toward them.
It starts with identity.

Scripture Begins with Who God Is

The Bible doesn’t introduce belonging by first telling us what humans should do.
It introduces belonging by revealing who God is.

Before there was a community, there was God—
Father, Son, and Spirit—
existing eternally in perfect, loving communion.

From the opening pages of Scripture, God speaks in the plural:
“Let us make humankind in our image.”

God did not create because He was lonely.
Creation was not a solution to a lack or deficiency He had.

Belonging already existed within the trinitarian life of God.

And out of love, God invited us into that belonging.

This is foundational.

Belonging is not something God invented for us.
It is something He invites us into.

We don’t earn it.
We don’t perform for it.
We simply receive it by faith.

Belonging Is an Identity, Not an Achievement

Because we are created in God’s image, belonging is embedded into our identity—not something we achieve later through faithfulness, usefulness, or moral effort.

This is why the most important question isn’t:
How do I help others belong?

A more honest starting point is:
Do I believe I belong to God without having to prove it?

The early church wrestled with this same tension.

Jewish believers expected Gentiles to adopt certain practices in order to belong—circumcision, Sabbath observance, and dietary laws.

Beneath all of it was the same assumption:
belonging must be demonstrated.

And when we believe our belonging with God depends on what we do, we will extend that same condition to others—often without realizing it.

If I had to work to belong, others will too.
If I had to prove myself, others must prove themselves.

From Fixing to Faithfulness

This is why addressing the fixing reflex matters so much.

When someone shares a need, and we immediately move into problem-solving mode, it’s worth pausing—not to shame ourselves, but to notice what’s being revealed in our own hearts.

What am I assuming about my role in this moment?
Do I believe their well-being depends on my competence?
Am I trusting God to be at work here—or myself?

Faithfulness doesn’t always look like efficiency.
It doesn’t always look like having answers.

Sometimes faithfulness looks like restraint.
Listening.
Presence.

When our identity is secure—when we know we belong to God—we’re freed from the need to perform.

And that freedom changes our posture.

We move from fixing to listening.
From control to mutual responses.
From needing to prove our Christian value to trusting that God is already at work in this situation.

Belonging Begins with God

Episode 5 of The Belonging Practice is an invitation to return to the beginning.

To locate belonging not in our strategies, programs, or responses—but in the very life of God.

When we start there, our relationships can finally begin to reflect the kingdom we proclaim.

🎥 Watch the episode here
Episode 5, The Belonging Practice

Reflection question to carry this week:
When considering how I engage with my low-income neighbors, where do I move to performance and response too fast?

Belonging begins with God.
Everything else flows from there.

One of the most persistent patterns of formation many of us carry is the belief that having resources also means having answers.

When we see or perceive need, our bodies often move faster than our discernment.
We fix before we listen.
We give before we receive.
We act before we ask what God might…

Read more

God instructs Israel to leave the edges of their fields unharvested—for the poor and the foreigner. This isn’t about charity or generosity; it’s about intentionally structuring life together so that there is always room for one another.

Rather than doing everything we can, God invites His people to leave space on purpose.

A Simple Practice

This week, resist the urge to fix or act quickly.

In prayer, ask:

• Where am I harvesting all the way to the edges?

• Where is there little margin left for shared life or mutuality?

When something comes to mind, simply notice it.
Bring it to God.
And invite Him to begin reordering your heart around His Kingdom.

Watch Episode 3 for the full teaching and guided reflection.

Radical Belonging vs. Radical Individualism

Last week, we began by naming belonging as something we receive from God, not something we earn through effort, usefulness, or performance.

This week, we turn toward a quiet but powerful force that often reshapes belonging without us realizing it: radical individualism.

Watch Episode 2: Radical Belonging vs. Radical Individualism

In this episode, I explore how two different stories of identity form us:

• Radical Belonging, which roots identity in God and forms us for shared life

• Radical Individualism, which centers the self and treats community as optional or transactional

Most of us don’t choose individualism—it’s the cultural air we breathe. And it often shows up in the subtle questions we bring into community about comfort, fit, and preference.

Episode 2 invites us to notice how God uses community not just to meet our needs, but to reorder our posture toward one another.

A Practice to Hold This Week

As you watch, I invite you to sit with two simple questions:

• God, these are my needs—and I trust You with them.

• Whose needs might you be inviting me to attend to right now?

Radical Belonging doesn’t deny our needs.
It reorders where we bring them first.

Watch episode 2 now.

And yet, I’m still surprised by how quickly my instinct is to act before I pause to notice what God might be doing.

That instinct shows up not just in my work, but in my faith.

When we talk about belonging in the Church, we often talk about it as something we build—through welcome centers, inclusion, small groups, or shared practices. Those things matter. But if we begin with what we are supposed to do, we’re starting at the wrong place.

Scripture begins somewhere else.

Read more

Before we begin talking about how to practice belonging, we need to slow down and ask a more foundational question:

What is belonging, really—and who defines it?

So often, belonging is framed as something we achieve:
by contributing, agreeing, serving, or fitting in.

But Scripture begins somewhere else.

Belonging, in the Kingdom of God, is not something we build.
It is something we receive—before we do anything at all.

That is where this practice begins.

Why We’re Starting Here

If we begin the conversation about belonging with what we’re supposed to do,
we’re probably starting in the wrong place.

Practicing belonging starts with receiving your identity, not with fixing what's wrong or changing your behavior in some way.

In the weeks ahead, we’ll explore how this identity challenges individualism,
reshapes community, and reorders our relationships—especially across difference.

But first, we begin here.

As you listen, I invite you to hold this question gently—not to answer quickly, but to notice what surfaces:

If I stopped serving, leading, or fixing—would I still believe I belong to God?

If that question feels uncomfortable, that’s okay.
Discomfort often signals that something important is being uncovered.

Let it become a prayer instead of a problem.

A Next Step for Those Who Want to Go Deeper

If this episode stirred something in you—
if the idea of belonging as received rather than earned feels both freeing and challenging—
you’re not meant to hold that tension alone.

Paid subscribers will receive a guided devotional later this week to help practice this identity through Scripture and community.

I’ll release one devotional each week this month, along with a leader guide, if you’d like to take the videos and devotionals from this month into your small group.

Using Paul’s letter to Philemon, the Radical Belonging Small Group Devotional walks slowly through Scripture, helping us:

• Anchor our identity in Christ before addressing broken relationships

• Learn how the gospel redefines belonging across difference, power, and harm

• Practice unity that doesn’t rush reconciliation, but trusts Christ to reorder relationships

This week’s devotional helps you take Episode 1 from idea to formation—whether you’re reading alone or with others.

If you’re longing for a slower, Scripture-shaped space to practice belonging in real relationships, you’re invited to join us.

Before you give, help, or rush to respond, try this small practice:

Pause. Take one breath.
Pray quietly: “Jesus, help me see this person or circumstance the way You do.”

Then ask just one question:
What would love look like here?

Sometimes love gives.
Sometimes it listens.
Sometimes it honors limits.

Jesus comes to us not in urgency, but in presence.
May our generosity reflect the same.

A Prayer

Jesus,
As we prepare to celebrate Your coming,
slow our hearts and schedules enough to love well.
Help us see people and circumstances as You see them—
with dignity, compassion, and care.
Amen.

There are donation drives, wish lists, unexpected needs, and moments when we feel a tug to give—sometimes joyfully, sometimes uncertainly. We want to bless others… but we’re not always sure what kind of help actually helps.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve begun asking myself:

“If our gift costs someone their dignity, it isn’t generosity anymore.”

But what does preserving dignity even mean?

At the heart of Jesus’ ministry—and at the heart of radical belonging—is the truth that every person carries God-given worth, agency, and voice.
Our giving should affirm that worth, not unintentionally diminish it.

So this year, as we give to our neighbors, churches, nonprofits, or strangers at a street corner, let’s slow down to reflect on ways of giving that affirm a person’s dignity:

A Dignity-Centered Way to Approach Giving

1. Preserve agency.

Ask instead of assume.
Honor a person’s ability to decide for themselves what they want or need.

Example: Let’s say you want to gift a person in need a grocery gift card. Instead of purchasing one from your preferred grocery store, ask them which grocery store they prefer before buying the card.

2. Protect godly identity.

Give in a way that communicates:
“You are capable.”
“You are worthy.”
“You are more than your circumstances.”

Example: Imagine a family in your community experiencing financial strain around the holidays.

A well-intentioned response might be to drop off bags of donated items without asking—clothes you’ve cleaned out, toys your children have outgrown, groceries you’ve chosen for them.

But a dignity-protecting response begins differently.

It sounds like:
“We’d love to come alongside you this season. What would actually be most helpful right now?”

And then listening.

3. Build relationship, not transaction.

The best gifts don’t widen the distance between us.
They draw us into deeper connection.

Example: A transaction hands something over and walks away.
Relationship pauses, looks someone in the eye, and learns their name.

One creates distance.
The other creates dignity.

Sometimes the most meaningful gift isn’t what we give—
it’s how we show up.

4. Strengthen capacity, not dependency.

Healthy generosity ultimately empowers people to move forward.
It doesn’t quietly replace their ability.

When we give this way, generosity becomes more than charity.
It becomes discipleship—a way of following Jesus into the kind of belonging He restores.

Example: When someone repeatedly asks for short-term assistance (like Christmas gifts every year), the need may no longer be relief—it may be development.

Continuing to meet the same request over and over can unintentionally replace growth. A capacity-strengthening response pauses and asks, “What kind of support would help move toward long-term stability?”

That might mean shifting from repeated aid to deeper discipleship, community support, or referral beyond our scope.

This kind of generosity is slower—but more loving.
It treats people as whole persons worthy of development, dignity, and belonging.

Want a tool to help you do this well?

I built a Dignity Checklist—a practical guide with reflective questions you can use before giving or serving this season. It’s designed to help you slow down, pray, and choose generosity that truly honors the image of God in others.

👉 Paid subscribers can access the checklist here.

If you’ve been considering supporting this Substack—or partnering in the creation of the Radical Belonging Curriculum—this is a great place to start. Your paid subscription helps fund the development of a resource that will equip churches to practice belonging with those on the margins.

But truly—thank you for being here.
Your presence matters. And I’m grateful for the ways you’re choosing wisdom, dignity, and love this Advent.

Chat again soon,
Deanna

Read more

This space is something I’ve been praying, planning, and honestly aching to build for a while—a space where we can explore what radical belonging looks like in real churches, real communities, and in our real lives.

Starting in January, this Substack will become the home for:

• simple, formational teachings on belonging and unity

• behind-the-scenes updates on building the Radical Belonging Curriculum

• stories and reflections from the margins

• practical tools for becoming a church that sees, honors, and embraces every image-bearer

But for December, we’re keeping things light.
A gentle warm-up.
A breath before we take our first steps together.

And since we’re entering a season filled with giving—sometimes joyful, sometimes complicated—I’ll be sharing a short reflection soon on how to approach generosity through a Helping Without Hurting lens.

Until then, I’d love to know:
What drew you here? What are you longing for when you think about belonging or community with those navigating poverty?

Drop a comment below if you feel comfortable—I’d really love to hear.

I’m grateful you’re here.
—Deanna

The Needle Mover Network exists to equip pastors, ministry leaders, volunteers, and nonprofit practitioners with the theology, practices, and communal imagination needed to cultivate Radical Belonging — especially with neighbors who are often overlooked, underserved, or living on the margins of their city.

If you’re here, you may feel the Holy Spirit inviting you to participate in a deeper kind of community formation:

one grounded in God’s story, shaped through spiritual formation, and expressed through compassionate relationships.

This space is for you.

What This Community Is All About

1. A Biblical Vision for Belonging

The Needle Mover Network explores how Scripture reveals belonging as the heartbeat of God’s Kingdom — a way of life that restores unity, honors dignity, and nurtures mutual flourishing for all.

2. Practical Formation for Leaders

Belonging is not a ministry program; it’s a discipleship practice.

Here you’ll learn simple, actionable rhythms you, your church, or team can begin using this week to form communities that reflect the love of Christ in word, deed, and presence.

3. A Community Funding and Shaping the Radical Belonging Curriculum

Your subscription directly supports the creation of a robust discipleship curriculum that guides churches through six movements of transformation toward radical belonging.

As a member of the Needle Mover Network, you are not only learning —
you are actively helping build a resource for the global Church.

Who This Space Is For

You’ll feel at home here if you are:

• A pastor or ministry leader seeking tools for unity, compassion, and justice

• A volunteer or outreach worker building bridges to marginalized communities

• A church staff member wanting to shift culture toward belonging and hospitality

• A nonprofit leader engaging faith and community flourishing

• A disciple of Jesus who cares about your city’s most vulnerable neighbors

• Anyone who senses a calling to a more relational, biblically-rooted way of ministry

No expertise required — only a willingness to be formed by God’s heart for belonging.

How to Use The Needle Mover Network

Free Subscribers Receive:

• Weekly reflections connecting Scripture, belonging, unity, and justice

• Real stories from the margins and what they teach us

• Leadership “micro-practices” you can implement quickly

• Updates on the Radical Belonging Transformation Curriculum

• Occasional interviews with leaders and practitioners

Free content is designed to nourish your soul and support your work right away.

Paid Subscribers Unlock:

(Your subscription fuels curriculum development.)

Monthly Deep-Dive Posts

Long and short-form teaching on:

• Theology of belonging

• Poverty alleviation that honors and empowers

• Spiritual formation practices

• Leadership development

• The Radical Belonging Transformation Framework
  

Downloadable Tools & Practices

Examples include:

• Small-group discussion worksheets

• Community engagement exercises

• Belonging practice prompts
  

Quarterly Live “Belonging Labs” on Zoom

A 60-minute gathering for:

• Real-time coaching and Q&A

• Scripture immersion

• Scenario-based ministry problem-solving

• Communal spiritual formation
  
  

Behind-the-Scenes Creation Access

As a supporter, you help shape the curriculum through:

• Draft reviews

• Surveys and polls

• Early access to chapters and tools

• Opportunities to give feedback

You become part of the creative, theological, and pastoral process.

Community Culture: What We Commit To

The Needle Mover Network is a space committed to:

• Compassion rather than certainty

• Curiosity rather than fear

• Honor for lived stories

• Hope for God’s renewing work

• Courage to face hard truths

• Dependence on the Holy Spirit for transformation

We walk gently, boldly, and prayerfully — trusting Jesus to shepherd us as we learn to love as He loves.

If You’re New, Start With These Posts

• “What Radical Belonging Looks Like in a Local Church”
  

• “Three Practices Your Church Can Try This Month” (Paid Access)

These posts give you a clear doorway into our mission and formation pathway.

Join the Needle Mover Network

Whether you subscribe for free or support the work financially, my prayer is that this community becomes:

• a place of spiritual formation,

• a catalyst for healing,

• and a companion as you lead others toward the way of Jesus —
  the way of belonging.

Thank you for joining us.
This is only the beginning.

Belonging feels big — like culture work, formation work, justice work, spiritual work, and pastoral care all wrapped together. And that can feel overwhelming.

But belonging doesn’t grow through complexity.
It grows through consistent, human-sized practices that form your community over time.

Here are three belonging practices your church can begin this month. They’re simple, repeatable, and deeply transformative when practiced with intention.

Read more

Those things help.
But belonging — radical belonging — is far deeper.
It is the lived expression of a community that has been shaped by Jesus into a people who see, honor, and embrace the fullness of one another’s humanity.

Belonging is the evidence of formation.
Not the product of strategy.

And when a church embraces this, something beautiful begins to happen.

1. Radical Belonging Sees People the Way Jesus Sees Them

At its core, belonging requires seeing — seeing people not as projects, categories, demographics, or ministry targets, but as image-bearers with stories, agency, dignity, and God-given value.

In a church marked by radical belonging:

• The single mom who arrives late because of work isn’t judged — she’s welcomed with joy.
  

• The immigrant family unsure of the language feels safe, not embarrassed.
  

• The teenager exploring identity is not sidelined — they are cared for with patience.
  

• The neighbor experiencing homelessness isn’t treated as “someone we serve” but as someone we share community with.

Radical belonging transforms the gaze of the church.
We begin to see with compassion rather than suspicion, curiosity rather than assumptions, and honor instead of hierarchy.

This is the way of Jesus.

2. Radical Belonging Makes Room for People Whose Lives Don’t Fit Cleanly Into Church Culture

A belonging-shaped church makes room for what is messy, slow, complex, or unfamiliar. In these communities, leaders and members ask:

• Who in our church has to work the hardest to belong here?

• Who feels like an afterthought?

• Who is missing entirely?

• What rhythms or assumptions subtly exclude people living on the margins?

Church culture is often built unconsciously around the preferences, schedules, and comfort of the majority. Radical belonging disrupts this.

It reshapes the culture so that people who live on the margins — economically, socially, racially, emotionally, or spiritually — do not have to shrink, perform, or hide to be included.

Belonging is not assimilation.
Belonging is spaciousness.

3. Radical Belonging Moves at a Human Pace, Not a Production Pace

A church that practices belonging slows down enough to notice:

• a neighbor who can’t breathe financially

• a volunteer who is exhausted

• a family navigating instability

• a young adult carrying shame

• an elderly member quietly slipping out of community

Belonging can’t be microwaved.
It grows in the slow soil of presence, patience, and proximity.

This is why churches committed to belonging often engage in:

• long-term relational outreach

• mentoring and tutoring

• care teams

• shared meals

• accompaniment rather than drive-by service

Ministries aligned with belonging are human, not hurried.

4. Radical Belonging Honors Both Pain and Joy

Churches often don’t know what to do with pain — especially the kind that comes from poverty, racial trauma, family instability, or chronic struggle.

Belonging refuses to minimize it.

A belonging-shaped church:

• makes space for lament

• invites honest stories

• does not rush people toward positivity

• lets Jesus tend to wounds rather than leaders trying to “fix” them

And yet belonging also honors joy — especially the joy of those who are often overlooked.
In these churches, joy is communal, not competitive.

Belonging is spacious enough to hold both.

5. Radical Belonging Is a Community Practice, Not an Individual Skill

A church becomes a place of belonging when the whole community is shaped into a new way of being together.

This means belonging is:

• taught

• practiced

• preached

• modeled

• corrected

• and celebrated

Belonging gets into the culture.
It becomes the air people breathe.

You hear things like:

“This is the first church where I didn’t have to pretend.”
“I didn’t think God had space for someone like me.”
“I’m finally not invisible.”
“We are learning to love one another well — even when it’s hard.”

Those are the fruits of formation.
Those are the signs of belonging.

6. Radical Belonging Makes the Margins the Centerpiece of Discipleship

Perhaps the clearest mark of belonging is this:

A church learns to see the margins not as a mission field but as teachers.

Churches shaped by belonging discover that the people our culture deems “last” often carry a prophetic clarity that reforms the entire community.

In these churches:

• The wisdom of the poor is honored.

• The resilience of single parents is celebrated.

• The spiritual gifts of immigrants are released.

• The lived expertise of those suffering injustice shapes discipleship.

Belonging decenter the powerful and recenters the beloved community of Acts — where every voice matters and every member is indispensable.

This is what moves the needle.
This is what forms us into the image of Christ.

So What Does Radical Belonging Look Like on a Sunday?

It might look like:

• a volunteer saving a seat for the neighbor who always arrives breathless

• shared meals where people from opposite sides of the city sit together

• prayer teams that bless people without needing to diagnose them

• communion lines where wealth, race, and background mean nothing

• sermons that speak to lived realities, not only theological abstractions

• small groups that honor complexity and resist easy answers

• children and youth learning to see difference as a gift, not a threat

• leaders who confess, repent, and grow publicly

Belonging is not a feeling.
Belonging is a way of life.

Your Church Can Become This Kind of Community

Not overnight.
Not without the gentle work of the Spirit.
Not without unlearning and re-learning.
Not without practices that shape hearts and imaginations.

But it is possible.

And this is why The Needle Mover Network exists:
to walk with you, learn with you, train you, and resource you as you lead your community toward the way of Jesus — a way marked by unity, compassion, justice, and belonging for all.

Belonging is not the end goal.
Belonging is the soil where discipleship actually takes root.

Let’s cultivate it together.