Growing up, when I heard the word “hospitality”, I always cringed a little on the inside. I thought that was someone else’s gift. I thought of a spotlessly clean house, perfectly made beds and completely home-cooked meals. However, in the last few years God has spun my perspective in a totally different direction. I’ve been shown the most incredible hospitality, and it had nothing to do with proper table settings, silk sheets or soothing scented candles. It was so much better than that.
Four years ago I moved to a city called Xenia (pronounced Zeen-ya). It’s a small city of around 25,000 people situated in southwest Ohio (didn’t expect that to be in America, did you?) right between the major cities of Cincinnati and Columbus and is the world headquarters for the missions organization I work for currently. I soon found out that the name Xenia was more than just a foreign-sounding word, but that it is actually the Greek word for hospitality.
In Xenia, I began to experience community and hospitality like never before. I was welcomed with open arms by a couple that allowed me to stay with them for two months rent free as I waited for my apartment to open up. I had stayed with many families before, but I felt more relaxed, comfy and at home with them than almost anywhere else I’ve ever lived! They took time to really get to know me by talking with me and investing in me and sharing what they had freely. It never mattered to me if their home was spotlessly clean or picture perfect because of how this couple really cared for me.
This was just the taste of what I began to experience as my job took me all over America and places on the other side of the world. I slept on couches and air mattresses across the country, and once in Missouri, a couple I had just met offered me the bed one of their kids (completely covered from pillows to comforter in support of the Green Bay Packers, of course) while the child slept in a sleeping bag on the floor! Crazy, right?
But by far the most amazing experiences of hospitality I have ever had were overseas in Mongolia and Guatemala. Last fall I was traveling with some friends through the untouched countryside of Mongolia. The unpaved, bumpy roads made our trip a bit longer than expected, and it became clear that we weren’t going to make it to our destination as nighttime was quickly approaching.
In the Mongolian countryside, the people still live nomadic lives in tents called Gers. As we were running out of daylight, we began to approach one of these Gers in the middle of nowhere. We stopped and asked the family living there if we could spend the night with them. Following suit with the hospitable culture that Mongolia is, they obliged our request. We were the first Americans they had ever met, and so began a memorable night.
Although it was already after dinner, the woman gave us milk tea (a warm, salty, traditional milk drink in Mongolia) and made us sheep and rice soup with the meat from their livestock over the open fire inside the tent. We slept on the floor of the Ger, and in the morning, they let us watch them milk their cows and fed us once more before we went on our way. We were so taken aback by their kindness and generosity.
In Guatemala, our team spent almost every night in a new city. One city we visited was in a mountainous area that overlooked Lake Atitlan and a volcano in the distance. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, but what one of the women in the village did for us left an even greater impression on me than that beautiful view.
All 10 of the women in our group had to stay in one tiny room with bunk beds and mattresses piled over every inch of the floor. Most of us Americans grumbled and complained about the accommodations, but the next morning at breakfast we learned that a woman in the village had saved up her salary for several months to be able to pay for the room so that we would come visit her city to share about Christ. I was blown away! I will never forget that moment, especially in the future when situations are less than ideal. You never know what someone gave up for you to be where you are.
All of these special moments and gestures, plus many more, have come to shape my view of hospitably and rewrite what it means to me. I can take or leave the fluffy pillows and baked-from-scratch cookies (even though those sound wonderful…). Hospitality to me is forming community where you’re at by caring about those in front of you and sharing what you have, no matter how small or how great. The warmth and care I felt through people all over the world has shown me that hospitality doesn’t have to be perfect, clean, or ideal -- it is just showing genuine care to people with your heart and your belongings.
We see in Luke 10:38-42 how Mary chose to sit with Jesus, rather than busy herself with perfection, preparation and presentation. She gave Him her full attention. She listened to Him, and she loved Him. She was available.
Christ wants our full attention, our hearts, and our love, and He wants us to show that love to those He’s placed in our pathways. He wants us to just make ourselves available to others, and that may mean opening up your home to someone who simply just needs to rest and talk.
So don’t fret over unvacuumed hallways or whether or not you made a dessert everyone will like. It’s not about being well-polished; it’s about being willing -- willing to give what you can of yourself to show others you care for them.
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