As with anything in life, if you don’t have a clear understanding or belief of why you are doing something, it probably won’t get done. Or, at least, it won’t get done consistently or well.
Being hospitable is attractive. In the world of Pinterest and Instagram, we see constant pictures and reels of the perfect dinner party, the beautifully curated home, and the smiles of people having the time of their lives. If having a Pinterest-worthy photo is why you want to be hospitable, you will probably pull off a really cool party—something that’s totally on trend, with the right food and décor, and a perfectly curated guest list. However, I doubt that it will be a time of true connection. It’s hard to connect when you are filming the whole event or when you are hyper-focused on the aesthetic. Not that planning and aesthetics don’t matter, but they can’t be your “why.”
We also live in a world that is craving genuine human connection more than ever. But if your focus is on yourself being fulfilled by the people in your home, you will also fall short of true connection and hospitality. Again, feeling connected to people is important, but you can’t have people into your home with the expectation that they fulfill you.
So, why do we show hospitality? First of all, it is a biblical command and absolutely core to our Christian faith and culture. I think sometimes when we see something is a “command,” it can feel like drudgery—something you have to do—instead of something that is a joy. But please, please remember: God’s commands are for our good, for the good of the world, and they reveal a part of His character. His yoke is easy, and His burden is light.
We see in Romans 12:13 that hospitality is intentional—we are to seek it. It is an expression of the Gospel in that, as we welcome others, it shows how God welcomed us. We see in Luke 14 that hospitality is sacrificial; it is not self-serving. We also see this in the ultimate example: Christ Himself, who came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many. Hospitality is also both ordinary and intimate. It is shown in our homes and with our families, often in the simplest of ways—by breaking bread together.
This foundation really puts things in perspective and helps keep the focus on the right things as we begin welcoming people into our lives and homes. A spill all over my intentionally laid table? No big deal—we will manage and move on if you are welcomed into my home with a heart intent on showing you the love of Christ. However, I am much more likely to show irritation as I clean up that same spill if I am thinking, “All that work, and now my picture is ruined.” It seems like a silly example, but start to take stock of what irritates you in your day and ask yourself why it is that you are irritated. Did my kids’ mess interrupt my plans or derail what I was trying to accomplish? Or is it a teaching opportunity?
I will never forget how my mom talked about these things. She cared about keeping a nice home and loved having family heirlooms, but she always said, “I want to leave a spiritual legacy, not one of things.” I love looking over and seeing my mom’s candy dish on the end table in the living room. But I see so much more than a dish—I see a part of her, and I remember the things she tried to teach.
One day, we were visiting my sister when my oldest was just four years old. He was, at the time, an only child and thrilled to be running around with cousins. He ran past an end table in her house and broke one of my mom’s dishes that my sister had. He froze. He started to cry. Before I could even move toward him, my sister swept him up in her arms, wiped his tears, and said, “People matter more than things. I love you so much more than that dish. I know it was an accident.” Then she told him how my mom wanted to leave a spiritual legacy.
What an incredible moment of hospitality—one that impacted each one of us. My sister didn’t forget her “why.”
Thompson House 