So I’m still pretty stuck on this hospitality theme that Pastor Greg broached a few Sundays ago in our One Another Series.
I think it’s because I needed a swift kick in the pants!
As I heard me speak about hospitality with Greg on the video clip during that message, sweet faces flashed before me of precious people who have graced my table, found refuge in my home. What a privilege to serve and to love people God has placed in our story. Conversations. Tears. Laughter. Prayer. Life. What blessings!
My heart was heavy with the conviction of the Holy Spirit from this flood of memories and Greg’s words from God’s Word.
I reminded myself how much I enjoy hospitality and serving others, why I think it is important to love people well, to make strangers friends.
Between caring for my elderly and vulnerable in-laws who live with us, navigating the never-ending Covid-19 restrictions, and enduring double knee replacements last year, I’ve had some undeniable and convenient excuses for putting hospitality in our home on the back burner.
Frankly, though, I think I’m just out of practice. And maybe I’ve gotten a little bit lazy. Comfortable. Complacent. Disobedient??
You see, I profoundly believe that hospitality isn’t just a nice idea or a helpful suggestion for believers in Jesus. It is a command, one Jesus Himself implied when lawyers questioned which commandment was the most important one. We now call it the Great Commandment.
“Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?” And he said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets. (Matthew 22:36-40 ESV)
Loving God with all we are is made visible, is demonstrated best, by loving others purposefully and sacrificially. He is our ultimate example of this kind of lifestyle. And it seems to me that loving others is inextricably linked to service. I believe loving our neighbors, near and far, loving people, requires hospitality, extending ourselves on their behalf whatever form that takes.
The Apostle Paul’s words clearly mandate this.
“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace. (1 Peter 4:8-10 ESV)
Commands are meant to be obeyed. So why have I become so negligent?
Well, I’d argue defensively in my flesh that I had some very good reasons for a while. But I don’t think those reasons totally let me off the hook. Lots of people have loved and served others well during quarantines. Or when they were caring for the elderly in their homes. Or when they were experiencing physical problems. Or during financial crises. Or when they were busy. Or when they found themselves in much more difficult circumstances than I have. Jesus did…
It just takes some new, out-of-the-box thinking and some creative, intentional, and innovative planning to extend hospitality when conditions aren’t great, when money is tight, when you aren’t a gourmet chef, when you are by nature shy, when the people you are to serve are difficult, when you can't do what you have always done.
Honestly, it just takes resolve. And maybe a new understanding. Maybe even a kick in the pants!
There isn't just a one-way-fits-all kind of hospitality as Charissa explained so well. It isn’t always BIG.
Small things matter. A lot.
I think we often excuse ourselves from serving and loving others the way we should because of our own faulty definitions of hospitality. We make it all about a fancy, candlelight dinner, a 5-star overnight accommodation with a gourmet breakfast included, or a crazy-big, churchwide or neighborhood gala in our backyard with karaoke blaring across town. I have been guilty of making it only about these. And while it sometimes is a gigantic undertaking, I think, most often, it’s the small things we do everyday that best show our love to others. The kind things we say. The verse we share. It’s SEEING folks. It’s being a good neighbor, even to those who are not necessarily living in close proximity to us, and even to the ones who don’t return our garden tools!
Or our friendship.
It is a mindset that can change the world.
But it seems most of us have blind spots when it comes to recognizing just what we DO have to offer others, what we can really do for them. Instead of watching Monday night football alone, invite someone over. Instead of eating all the cookies you just baked, send some over to a neighbor. Take time to chat over the fence. Drop a card in the mail to someone who had a recent health scare. Have a playdate in the park and bring some juice boxes and Cheetos. And wipes! I had a wonderful neighbor who picked up trash along our road every Saturday. How thoughtful!
It’s important to determine how we can make a difference in the lives of others. It may not seem like a lot, but when we generously offer them what we have, “something sacred happens. God uses the small things we bring to him and multiplies them into a miracle in someone else's life.”
I’m impressed with a familiar story (surprise!) told in each of the Gospels about a time when Jesus wanted to extend hospitality in far more difficult circumstances than I have ever experienced in my quest to be obedient to the hospitality command. And He uses a small boy, one so insignificant that we never even know his name! But he stands up in a group of 5000 men and gives what he has. “Then a miracle takes place. His little effort combines with God’s power and everything changes.” I found these quotes and a telling of this event in a book called, The Art of Neighboring by Jay Pathak and Dave Runyon, BakerBooks, 2012, pp.87-89. It’s well worth the read!
It’s getting late, and thousands of people have hung around all day to listen to Jesus preach. But it’s becoming clear that all of these people didn’t plan ahead. They need to eat but they are miles from civilization. Jesus turns to his disciples and tells them to find something for the crowd for dinner. But the disciples have no way of providing a meal for the crowd. One of the disciples, Philip, calculates what it would cost–more than a year’s salary, way more than they can afford. Clearly the disciples are way over their heads with the challenge at hand. What is Jesus expecting? He's not serious, right?
When we start to take the Great Commandment literally, we realize we don’t have what it takes. We don't have enough time, even though we prioritize. We aren’t great at remembering names, even though we write them down and try to remember. We don’t love enough, even though we are trying to be like Jesus. We feel as though we are being asked to manage an impossible task–loving our neighbors. Do our small efforts add up to anything? Let’s get back to our story.
As the disciples are about to give up, something outlandish happens. “Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, spoke up. ‘Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?’” (John 6:8-9)
Andrew knows the little boy’s lunch would feed only a few of the people. Why would he even offer something so ridiculous? First of all, it’s rude. You shouldn't take food from little children. Second, it’s silly. What good could it possibly accomplish? What was Andrew thinking? Apparently Andrew knew something we should all remember: small sacrifices can lead to a miracle. When you give what you have, even if it’s minute, God can make a miracle. He can work with very little and turn it into something that no one could have imagined.
As the passage continues, Jesus prays for the food. Then he breaks up this kid’s lunch and hands it out to the disciples. He tells them to start distributing it–somehow there is enough to feed the crowd.
Now here’s an interesting question: When did the food multiply?…I think that the miracle happened in the hands of the disciples. As they handed out the bread and fish, it was miraculously replaced in their baskets. Every time they gave away some food, they looked down into the basket, only to find it full again. The miracle happened as they participated in giving the food away. The food multiplied in their hands.
Can you imagine being a part of something like this? It must have been amazing, not only for the disciples but for the little boy as well. Suddenly he is a hero. He gives up his lunch, and a bunch of adults get to participate in a miracle. I doubt he ever imagined his day would turn out like that.
When you give away what you have, Jesus will give you more to give. Even if what you have isn’t enough to solve the whole problem, just do what you can in the moment–give it anyway. Trust that God will fill you up with enough to supply the need that’s right in front of you, and assume he will do it again for the next need as well. If you don’t give, you don’t get a chance to see God do a miracle.
Give Him what you have, no matter how small or foolish or unusable it seems. There are people out there He longs to love and care for through YOU. Maybe not 5000 of them at once, but maybe there are! What an incredible thought! What an amazing privilege! He still does miracles.
Maybe for this season of my life, I can’t do what I used to do. So maybe I need to figure out what I can do, even if it seems so very small and insignificant. My definition of what hospitaIity looks like right now may need a little tweaking. God wants me to love and serve others to demonstrate my love for Him and HIS love for them. I can do that. I can meet up for coffee and offer encouragement. Send a card. Text a verse. Share a casserole. Give a ride. Pray over the phone. I can make my mother-in-law queen of our home. I must remind myself that it's often the small moments, the little things, that count.
Little things matter. A lot.
It’s simple: Give the little you have and are and watch God do a miracle.
Those old enemies may become friends, and strangers may become Family!
And God the Father will smile. A lot.
—Eileen Hill
