Room For More

An Unexpected Space

Sometimes, life surprises us. We think our hearts are already full—overflowing, even—and yet, something happens that makes us realize there’s more room than we thought. It’s not about filling a void or replacing something we lacked. It’s about discovering that love, like God’s own heart, is not a zero-sum game.

Recently, I experienced something that opened a new corner of my heart. I found myself holding space for more—more relationship, more affection, more joy.

Theologically speaking, that’s not just a personal quirk. It’s a divine design feature.


Love as an Expanding Economy

Most of life runs on the principle of scarcity. If I have a pie, and I give you a slice, there’s less for me. But love operates differently. Love is more like a candle—lighting another candle doesn’t diminish the flame, it multiplies the light.

This is how God loves. Scripture tells us, “God is love” (1 John 4:8), and that love is infinite in scope and depth. God doesn’t parcel it out in rationed portions—He pours it out abundantly (Romans 5:5). The more He loves, the more there is to give.

When we find “room for more” in our own hearts, we are reflecting God’s own character. We are living out what it means to be made in His image—a God whose love never runs out.


Room for More as a Spiritual Posture

In personal relationships, finding room for more is about openness. It’s about living with an unguarded heart—not in a naive way, but in a trusting way.

In church life, this posture is essential. Our congregations often talk about being “welcoming,” but a truly welcoming church doesn’t just make room for people who are already like us. It makes room for those who stretch us, challenge us, even unsettle us.

John Wesley famously said:

“The world is my parish.”

That’s a declaration of spiritual spaciousness—a willingness to let God keep expanding our relational territory until it reaches the ends of the earth.


When Nations Have Room for More

The principle applies beyond individuals and churches. Nations, too, can either operate with a scarcity mindset or an abundance mindset when it comes to people. The biblical vision of community—from the Law’s concern for the stranger (Leviticus 19:34), to Jesus’ radical embrace of outsiders—points toward a posture of openness.

A people who believe they are blessed by God are freed to bless others. A nation confident in its values and rooted in compassion can have room for more—not only in immigration policy, but in its civic imagination, its willingness to understand those it disagrees with, and its capacity to build bridges instead of walls.


The Risk and Reward of Spacious Love

Let’s be honest—making room for more always comes with risk. More relationships mean more vulnerability. More inclusion means more complexity. More openness means more opportunities for misunderstanding.

But love, by definition, is willing to take the risk. Jesus modeled this. He consistently invited “more” into His circle—more tax collectors, more women disciples, more children, more Gentiles. And in the end, His arms stretched wide on the cross became the ultimate picture of room for more.


Living With an Expanding Heart

Here are a few spiritual practices for cultivating a “room for more” life:

  1. Pray for capacity – Ask God to enlarge your heart beyond what you think you can hold (Psalm 119:32).
  2. Practice hospitality – Invite people into your life who don’t fit your usual categories.
  3. Release control – Let go of the need to have relationships be tidy or predictable.
  4. Celebrate others’ loves – Rejoice when others find room for more in their own lives—it’s contagious.

The Kingdom Is Spacious

The Kingdom of God is a spacious place. Jesus compared it to a great banquet (Luke 14), where the Master keeps sending servants out to bring more guests in—until the room is full. That’s the heart of God: always more.

When you and I find room for more in our lives, we’re stepping into that Kingdom reality. We’re saying, in word and in deed, that love’s borders are wider than we imagined. We’re living as if heaven has already begun—and maybe, just maybe, it has.

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