My family has lived on the campus of a Bible college in Southern Africa for the past six-and-a-half years. We love living in close proximity to our multiethnic neighbors, being heavily involved in the lives of students and the life of the school, and the ease of living where we work. We struggle, too, and one particular area that has been difficult is hospitality. Often we have a lot of students around, host staff dinners, and extend hospitality to other friends and acquaintances. There’s been such beauty in the opening of our home and lives frequently and wholeheartedly.
We have also made poor decisions in the past in the name of hospitality, feeling as though we must at all times share all that we have and that our children must as well. This is the way of Christian hospitality, is it not? Is that not what Christ himself modeled?
There has been plentiful material coming out on Christian hospitality in recent years, and some of it is conflicting. Certain reading has left me sweaty and clammy, especially as an introvert. Are we not hospitable enough? Does hospitality actually mean cooking twice as much daily as I usually do and opening my home to others every night of the week? Does hospitality mean that any and all children are welcome to use my children’s things, even to the point of breaking them? This is sacrificial hospitality, no?
We have been asking ourselves these questions constantly for the past six years. Essentially, what does hospitality actually mean? And are we, as Christians, to practice it in an absolute, never-say-no kind of way?
Perhaps you, like me, have struggled to understand how hospitality could, or maybe (the higher pressure word) should, look in your life. Let’s consider these questions together.
First, what does hospitality mean? Christians throughout history, from the earliest days of the church, have understood that hospitality is a means of participating in the activity of God in Christ by welcoming others, including the stranger, the powerless, and the unlovely. It is a means of grace in that we can tangibly extend the love of Christ through our physical presence and spaces. It is the opening of our homes and hearts to welcome others, not to entertain, but to enfold them into our lives. This is authentic, Christian hospitality.
So what does a faithful practice of hospitality look like? I would humbly suggest at this point that there is an appeal to Christian freedom and to wisdom. The outworking of the principle of hospitality will be as varied as the households who are practicing it faithfully. While we are to model Christ, we are by no means Christ ourselves. And even Christ, in his shared humanity and deity, withdrew regularly to quiet places to refresh himself in order to further minister. How do we best practice hospitality given our limitations and finiteness as human beings?
In her book The Limits of Hospitality, Jessica Wrobleski dives deeply into theological reflections on Christian hospitality. She explores the concept that true hospitality cannot happen without the distinction of host and guest, of the boundary of a home or space into which one is welcomed: “It is precisely when limits and expectations are made completely clear that (we) are most hospitable, where hosts and guests alike are most able to feel free to enjoy the spaces they share.”
In other words, we can only offer meaningful hospitality when we clearly understand our own role, as hosts and when there is a clear sense of the boundary into which we are inviting others. Christian hospitality does not just happen; it requires a response, an extension, an offering. This is not an excuse to be selfish with our homes and lives, but rather “the limits of hospitality must be informed by gratitude and humility as well as faith and love, recognizing that all we have to give has been given to us.”
Recently, we had a host of children and teenagers appear in our yard, climbing onto our swing set and our new trampoline, which had been my daughters’ Christmas gift from their grandparents. (For context, over the holidays, some church camps will utilize our college campus.) My daughters stared out the window as the trampoline creaked under the weight of too many people, trying to understand why they did not ask before using it, worry etched on their faces. My husband and I looked at each other, silently asking God for wisdom. What is Christian hospitality in this situation?
When these flocks of visitors poured into our yard, there was a reason why my daughters felt unease, why my husband and I felt unease. We had not extended an offering of hospitality, though we now had an opportunity to. Perhaps in the future, we will feel more able to extend spontaneously, but in this situation, we kindly asked the camp leaders to stay on the public parts of our campus. Much of our hospitality will be an outflowing of the Spirit’s work in our lives when we seek wisdom to extend ourselves. In this case, we felt we needed to honor our children and tend to their sensitive hearts. We called a family meeting and debriefed right then and there what had happened, how we all felt about it, and discussed what it looks like to extend Christ’s love.
Wrobleski communicates that “each of us must begin our practice of hospitality from an honest recognition of our limits—our abilities and identities and resources and hostilities—but that hospitality really begins to grow and flourish as we strive to make room for what lies beyond these limits . . . rather than fortifying limits around what is comfortable or convenient, the Spirit of Christ invites us to explore ways of living and loving that may feel precarious but that in fact enlarge the space available in hearts and homes for the abundant life God has promised.”
I have found it helpful to see that by creating boundaries around my hospitality, I am not leaving others out, but rather drawing the line into which I can lovingly invite people for meaningful fellowship and into a home where they can experience Christ’s love. I am showing my children that I value them as people in our home, that all we have has been given to us, and empowering them to share freely what they can, as they are able, without coercion or guilt trips. And ultimately, I am trusting God to continue to expand my heart, and the hearts of my children, in order to enlarge the hospitality we are able to offer.
Rather than sitting in shame over the way hospitality has drained us in the past or the poor decisions we have made in the name of hospitality, we can acknowledge that faithful obedience in this area is one where we are holding in tension the many people in our lives, the spaces we have to offer, and the hope of continuing to share the love of Christ through our giving. Because even in the boundaries of hospitality, the focus is on extending, not in selfish self-preservation, but in love and in Christlikeness.
Christ, help us to see our homes and lives in truth, as belonging to you, as an outpouring of your love and grace. Help us to recognize how we are able to give and to consider all of those within our homes as we extend hospitality. Give us wisdom as we seek to pour out our lives for your glory.
