3 Truths to Remember As You Practice Hospitality this Season
For several years when I was a kid, my parents hosted big New Years’ Eve parties. They weren’t fancy or elaborate, but they were full of people. All of our friends and their families were invited, a mix of adults, teenagers, and younger kids in one house. About 9pm, people descended on our home to laugh, play games, drink root beer floats, eat snacks, and count down to the new year.
When the calendar officially changed over, everyone threw confetti. And I don’t mean a few handfuls. We threw a lot of confetti––enough to coat the family room floor with an inch of what looked like rainbow-colored snow.
Now, it’s important to know I grew up in a house where glitter was not allowed. My mom preferred things clean, and often when she entertained, we ate off of fancy dishes set over linen tablecloths. After she died, my family joked about who might possibly need three closets worth of tablecloths–all of which she actually used!
For many years, she ironed sheets. In contrast, my iron has maybe been used 10 times in more than a decade, and I certainly have never ironed my sheets. My dad even recalls measuring the distance between the flatware before a dinner party to ensure everything was set properly. (As the sixth child, I don’t ever remember her doing this, because as any parent knows, you learn to let go of the little stuff more and more with every child. She loosened up quite a bit by the time I came around, as our New Year’s parties showed.)
But once a year, those rules were put aside. By 1am, paper plates would be strewn around the house, blue, yellow, red, and green confetti hidden in every crack and crevice of the couch, and sleep-deprived parents left to clean it up (with the kids’ help, of course).
It’ll be a few years before I am ready to take on parties like my family did years ago–and who knows if I ever will. (While the stuff of dreams for a kid, confetti is the stuff of nightmares as a parent.) Yet those nights were a gift to so many. We laughed, ate, and enjoyed one another’s company. We got to know new families and made memories with old friends. Even to this day, I get comments about those unforgettable evenings.
But regardless of whether we host big New Year’s gatherings or have a neighbor over for pizza, we can still love others as we practice hospitality. We can show the goodness and generosity of God as we share life with each other.
You don’t have to commit to confetti. (Trust me, the mess is a commitment. If you choose to embark on the confetti journey, make sure your vacuum cleaner is equally committed.) But as we welcome others into our homes and our lives, it’s helpful to remember three key truths about hospitality.
1. Hospitality can be messy, costly, and tiring.
At my family’s New Year’s Eve parties, guests spilled drinks. Confetti clogged the vacuum cleaner (like I said, make sure you’re prepared). Buying snacks for everyone costs money. It was exhausting to clean up. But I love what Tim Chester said in A Meal with Jesus:
Hospitality will lead to “collateral damage.” Food will be spilled on your carpet. You'll be left with clearing up. Your pantry may be decimated. But remember that God is welcoming you into his home through the blood of his own Son. The hospitality of God embodied in the table fellowship of Jesus is a celebration and sign of his grace and generosity. And we’re to imitate that generosity.[1]
No one has been more generous than our God, and his hospitality toward us led to the death of his Son. Who am I to complain about broken glasses or crumbs on the floor? We should expect hospitality to cost something—and as we stain-treat carpets and refill the refrigerator, we remember the hospitality of our God.
2. Hospitality is not a performance. It’s an act of service.
I have so often twisted hospitality to make it about me. I want to cook the perfect meal so I look good. I want my house to appear clean so my pride stays intact. I want to throw a good party so people like me. There’s nothing wrong with good food, a clean house, a beautiful tablescape, and a fun party. Those can be ways we love and serve others well. But when our motive is to caress our own pride, we’ve gotten it wrong.
1 Peter 4:8-10 says, “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.”
We don’t practice hospitality to make ourselves look good. It’s not about us. We welcome others in, just as God has welcomed us. Hospitality is about loving our neighbor and serving them, and in doing so pointing to the grace and love of God.
This truth also frees us from the pre-hosting frenzy that traps many of us. As we clean and cook and prepare, some of us run over anyone in our path who may detract from those goals: our kids, our spouse, anyone who interrupts our effort to get ready for guests. We steamroll those in our own homes, showing anything but hospitality to the people closest to us.
If we remember hospitality is about service instead of performance, we can let the little things go. We can do our best to prepare, but we do not sacrifice our families and our sanity on the altar of ego. If our own kids and spouses do not feel welcomed as we’re trying to show hospitality, we’ve missed the point.
3. Hospitality points to who God is and what his kingdom is like.
Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners[2], he called us to invite those who cannot repay us[3], he commended those who fed, welcomed, clothed, served, and visited “the least of these brothers and sisters”[4]. Over and over again, he taught through word and action that we are to welcome those the world does not welcome. We’re to serve those who cannot repay us. We’re to love others even when they don’t deserve it. After all, that is what Christ has done for us, and that is what his kingdom is like.[5]
The kingdom of God is a place full of sinners who have been forgiven, strangers who have been welcomed, enemies of God who have redeemed, hungry souls who have been filled with the love of God. That is us. Now that we have experienced the extravagant hospitality of God shown through his Son, we are to demonstrate that to others. We’re to show those around us that God is loving, gracious, and generous.
Through the food we prepare, the homes we steward, the meals we drop off, the people we visit, the strangers we invite for coffee, we get to display the kingdom and character of God on earth as it is in heaven. We get to practice resurrection, sharing new creation life to a world that is hurting.
What a grand and beautiful calling we get to live out this holiday season and even in our ordinary, everyday lives.
[1] Tim Chester, A Meal with Jesus: Discovering Grace, Community, and Mission Around the Table (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2011), 49.
[2] Mark 2:15-17
[3] Luke 14:12-14
[4] Matthew 25:31-46
[5] Note that Jesus demonstrated hospitality, but he didn’t do it by hosting in his own home. So if you feel like in this season you cannot host or you don’t have the space or you need to practice caution during the pandemic, there are still ways to show hospitality. You may just need to think outside the box and get creative. Jesus didn’t have a huge home with tons of entertaining space. We don’t need that, either, in order to welcome others with love and grace.
