Ever since high school, one of my favorite shows has been House Hunters. I remember watching with my mom nearly every night at 7:30. In case you don’t know the premise, it’s a show on HGTV that follows along as people decide on a home to buy. The different locations, different budgets, different preferences, and different personalities always keep it interesting. It’s a somewhat mindless show but I think it’s fascinating to be a fly on the wall, learning about people’s different styles, stories, and their visions for what their homes could be. I don’t get to watch it as often nowadays, but I will always love watching others find their way home. And I always looked forward to the day when it might be my turn.

That day came when, a few years ago, Brad and I purchased our first home. It wasn’t documented on House Hunters like I’d dreamed, but that’s okay. I was surprised to find that throughout the process, I was simultaneously excited and terrified. I was excited to decorate, to make the house our own, and to have a sense of permanency after moving seven times in five years. But I was terrified of the responsibility – the financial burden, the maintenance. Mostly though, the expectation of playing hostess in our new space turned this introvert into a hyperventilating mess. 

I felt pressure to host well – to provide for guests, entertain them, feed them, all while ensuring comfort and enjoyment. This pressure – this fear of not hosting well – was crippling. For the first several months of home ownership, we barely had anyone over. I felt like a failure and a hypocrite, and decided that hospitality was just not my gift.

But God began to work in this area of my life. A few months after we became home owners I attended a women’s retreat, and during one of the workshops, I learned about the monastic definition and practice of hospitality. This newfound knowledge literally changed not only the way I host, but more importantly, the way I live. I am positive that while I might not be a natural-born hostess, hospitality is a big part of my call as a follower of Jesus.

In the monastic tradition, when a nun hears a knock on her door, she doesn’t become frantic making sure everything is presentable. She doesn't rush to get in a couple last minute spurts of Febreeze, or apologize if she can’t provide for her guest the way she wishes she could. She simply opens the door and looks for Christ in her visitor. She knows that anyone who walks through her door could very well be ushering in the presence of Christ. That is enough. And that is a beautiful thing.

This definition is needed and I love it for two reasons.

First, it takes the burden off of us. The pressure to appear put-together is lifted because our focus is not on ourselves. We simply look for Christ. We believe Jesus in Matthew 25 when He says that whatever we do for even the least of these, we do for Him. With that in mind, everything else we tend to worry about pales in comparison and fades away.

Second, it attributes worth, dignity, and value to the guest, visitor or stranger. With this perspective, hospitality is much bigger than simply hosting; it becomes a way of life. Hospitality expands beyond the walls of our homes and the boundaries of our comfort zones. It is something we take with us, something we are called to live out each and every day of our lives. It doesn't require the walls of an immaculate home or even a well-cooked meal. It only requires a posture of humility, willingness, and welcome. 

In his book, The Great Dance, Baxter Kruger writes this:

“All hospitality, the spirit of all welcoming and encouragement and camaraderie and at-homeness begins there in the relationship of Father, Son and Spirit. You, my friend, have been included in that circle, and it is the hospitality of the Father, Son and Spirit that pours forth out of your being. The Father, Son and Spirit share their hospitality, their welcoming and quickening and encouraging Spirit, with the world through you.” 

I love what Kruger shares. We are included and welcomed into relationship with God, and it is out of that relationship that we are then able to share a spirit of hospitality in the world around us. It’s not just about inviting in, but reaching out. And during a time when gathering in our homes, or really anywhere, isn’t able to happen the way we’re used to, that expanded definition and distinction is important to remember.

Hebrews 13:2 says, 

“Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!”

To entertain angels is a gift and opportunity - one I don’t want to miss - and it is attainable when we choose to practice humble hospitality. It is much easier to use the blinders that dull our witness and soften our call; but living and leading with hospitality powerfully enables us to see others the way God does. It’s a perspective that makes a difference, propelling us into meaningful Kingdom work. 

Hospitality notices the unnoticed, makes space for the marginalized, and seeks to find common ground instead of defaulting to what’s different. 

I wonder what would happen if we chose to live and lead with a spirit of hospitality. If we searched for the presence of Christ and the image of God in whoever crosses our path or walks through the doors of our life - in the members of our family, our neighborhood, our workplace, our community, and our world. And I wonder what the impact might be if we then chose to treat those people accordingly. Despite their status or appearance. Despite how different than us they might be. 

Today, remember, we are called to a spirit of hospitality, one that sees others the way God does and reaches out beyond the walls of our homes and comfort zones. May we be bold enough to carry this kind of hospitality into our little slice of the world, trusting the Kingdom-sized difference it could make.