Forty-Four and Still Renting, and I Am Tired of Being Prayed Over Like a Problem

A reader writes:

At a women’s fellowship breakfast last year, the speaker asked everyone who owned their own home to stand up so we could “thank God for His faithfulness”. About two-thirds of the room stood. The rest of us stayed sitting with our tea going cold. Then she said, “And for those still sitting, we believe God for you, that by this time next year you will be standing too.” People clapped. A lady beside me squeezed my hand.

I know she meant well. They all meant well. But I went home and sat in my rented flat, which I love, and cried, and I have been thinking about that morning ever since.

I am forty-four. I have rented all my adult life, first rooms, then a flat, and for the last nine years this two-bedroom place above a hardware store. I am a nurse. I am not in debt. I tithe. I have looked at buying more than once, and each time I have decided, after prayer and a lot of sums, that it was not right for me yet. Once because my mother got sick and I needed to be free to move to be near her. Once because the only places I could afford were an hour and a half from work, on shifts that end at midnight. That is not a failure of faith. That is a decision.

But in church, and honestly in the wider community too, renting is treated like a waiting room. Like you have not arrived yet. I have noticed small things over the years that I don’t think homeowners notice at all.

When the church was choosing people for the building committee, someone said, in a meeting I was in, “It should be people who own property, so they understand responsibility.” As if paying rent on time for twenty years, and maintaining a flat, and dealing with a landlord, teaches you nothing about responsibility.

When my cousin got married, her new in-laws asked her, in front of me, whether her family “had property”. My aunt said, “Well, Sharon rents,” in a tone like she was admitting I had a gambling problem.

I have heard sermons where owning a house is presented as the proof of God’s blessing, the evidence that you have been faithful. If that is true, then what does it say about me? About the young couple in our church who rent because property prices have gone out of reach? About the widow who sold her house to pay for her husband’s treatment and now rents a room? About Jesus, who said He had nowhere to lay His head?

And outside church it is not much better. In our area, the residents’ association meetings are mostly for owners. When there was a petition about the new road, the man with the clipboard walked past my door because “it’s for householders.” I have lived on this street longer than half the owners. I know the names of the children. I water Mrs Bailey’s plants when she goes to her daughter’s. But because my name is not on the title, somehow my voice counts for less.

I want to be fair. I do want to own one day, maybe. It would be nice not to worry about the landlord selling. I am not against homeownership, and I am happy for my friends who have bought. I have helped several of them move. And I know some renters are not good neighbours, just as some owners are not. But I am tired of being treated like a problem to be prayed away, rather than a sister who has made a considered choice and is living faithfully where God has put her.

When I read my Bible I find a lot of people who did not own their homes. Abraham lived in tents in a land he had been promised. The Israelites were told that the land ultimately belonged to God and they were “strangers and sojourners” with Him (Leviticus 25:23). Paul lived for two whole years in his own rented house in Rome and welcomed everyone who came to him. Nobody suggests Paul lacked faith.

So here is what I would ask of churches and communities, gently. Stop using homeownership as a shorthand for spiritual maturity. Include renters on committees and in associations; we have skills and we have stakes. When you pray for housing, pray for security, fairness and peace for everyone, owners and tenants alike, not just for everyone to become owners. And perhaps, at the next breakfast, instead of asking the owners to stand, ask everyone who has a roof over their head tonight to stand and give thanks. That would be the whole room.

— Sharon, Montego Bay

Editor’s note

Sharon’s letter is a useful challenge. Owning a home can be a real blessing and a wise goal, but it is not a measure of faithfulness, and renting is not a spiritual shortfall. Many renters are the steadiest members of their streets and congregations. Churches and residents’ associations might ask whether their language, leadership and invitations quietly exclude tenants. And her closing suggestion, giving thanks for every roof, whoever holds the title, seems a good place to begin.

Reader letters may be edited for length and clarity, and names and identifying details are changed.