How is practicing hospitality an important act of service in our society/culture today?
That was the little ol' question in our bible study materials that set off this chain reaction of thoughts in my head. Our life group is studying through the book of 1 Peter, and last night came across verse 9 of Chapter 4. "Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling" it reads in the NIV translation; "Be hospitable to one another without complaint" the New American Standard reads, or my favorite, the New Living Translation: " Cheerfully share your home with those who need a meal or a place to stay."
As we discussed the question (above), I mentioned the illustration of how fifty years ago most of the houses had front porches and people sat out on the porch and waved to the neighbors and the passerbyers. It was an open...friendly culture. Nowadays it seems like we make the front entrances of our houses as unwelcoming and unfriendly as possible, trying to keep people away. Instead of front porches we have decks on the back of our house, were we gather with only those who are invited to attend, surrounded and secluded by our high-walled privacy fences...just in case a neighbor or passerbyer might be looking around or hoping to catch the first glimpse of the person they've lived next to for three years but have never spoke to or even seen. The other members of my little bible study group did not react to this illustration the way I thought they would. "We're a much more private culture now," one commented, as if it was a good thing. Where I was inclined to mourn the loss of the front-porch ideal of friendliness and hospitality, they were more inclined to accept the deck-and-privacy fence culture as the way things were meant to be.
Needless to say, from there the discussion tumbled into why we don't answer when people knock on our front door, why we like to keep things so "safe" and private, how you can't just let anyone into your home, etc., etc., etc. I'm not saying these aren't valid points. I freely admit that I don't answer the door to strangers when I'm home alone, that I get annoyed by door-to-door solicitors just like everyone else, and that I think the icecream truck that tools around our neighborhood blaring happy-go-lucky music is pretty creepy. I'm not saying crime rates and acts of violence haven't provided us with ample reasons to barricade ourselves inside of our homes. All I'm trying to get across is that although this is apparently the way things are in our modern society, it doesn't mean it is the way it should or even has to be. I think were missing an essential point here about living in community and following Christ.
Take the early church for an example. Acts 2, vs. 44-47 says, "All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved." This passage is a beautiful picture of what it means to live in Christian community; they spent time together...they worshipped together...they ate together...they sold their possessions and gave freely to anyone in need. Amongst the believers there was true hospitality...sharing freely, giving freely. I'm not talking about socialism or re-distrubution of wealth, but of self-sacrificially following Christ. Sure, you might be thinking, it's easy be hospitable and to share with people who are our friends...people whom we like and know. But notice the last verse...more people were being saved and coming to know Christ every day! That wasn't just an accident...they were people on the outside who listened and observed how the Christians lived, and maybe even received from the giving, hospitable Christians. How the Christians lived was visible...out on the front porch of life; not hiding behind a privacy fence on some deck.
Wait a minute, you say, things are bad these days...you can't be too careful. Robbers...murderers...bad guys and gals of all shapes and sizes just waiting to take advantage of you or hurt you or your family. That's why we have to build walls around ourselves...for protection. Believe me, when the highway patrolman came knocking on the door of my parents house on July 3rd (Nate and I were there for a visit) and told us they had lost a dangerous suspect less than a mile from our house, and recommended that we leave for our own safety, I was all for going. The last thing I wanted was for Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood" to be re-enacted on my own family. I'm not arguing that there aren't bad people in the world who can hurt us. We have every right to protect our property and families from those who would do it harm. We now live in a culture of mistrust and suspicion, and there are reasons to be afraid. The first century Christians had reasons to be afraid too...they could be arrested, beaten, or killed for their faith anyday. But their fear didn't stop them from living in community and sharing hospitality with those who were in need. They had faith...faith that no matter what happened God would take care of them; faith that no matter how bad things got and how scared they were, that God was still in control.
We shouldn't let fear keep us from being Christ's hands and feet to the world around us. I venture to think that our "private" culture is a cover up for a really "self-centered" view point that our most important job is to take care of me, myself, and I. We're afraid and overwhelmed by the world outside our doors, so we shut it out and pretend it doesn't exist. In his book Out Live Your Life, Max Lucado referred to this as our clam or oyster shells. We cruise through life, peeking out when it suits us, but firmly shutting the shell to anything that might be inconvenient or unpleasant. We stay within our privacy fences, that way we don't notice (or at least pretend not to notice) the single mom down the street who is exhausted...the man on the corner who just lost his job...the elderly woman who is lonely. Maybe practicing hospitality is more about seeing and recognizing and serving, that it is inviting people over. I don't necessarily think we should invite just anyone into our homes (unless God has given you that kind of faith), but if someone at church mentions someone in need of a place to sleep for a few nights, or if a friend going through rough times needs a shoulder to lean on, why not step out in faith and welcome them in? Afriad they'll steal something? I was struck by the thought last night, that if we didn't think so highly of our "stuff" we wouldn't really miss it if it disappeared. Afterall, it's just stuff...things. In most cases they're not necessary to survival. If a visitor you opened your home to does walk out with something of value, then that is the perfect opportunity for you to share God's grace and love with that individual, by forgiving them.
Sometimes the people who are the hardest to love and reach out to need love the most. There's no telling how God will use the little bit of grace you offer them to transform their lives. It was that kind of grace that completely changed the life of Jean Valjean in Victor Hugo's Les Miserables. Having served a 13 year sentence for theft, Valjean was released from prison, only to be shunned from the people outside the prison because of the "Ex-convict" card he carried. Alone, with no where to go and no place to stay, Valjean ends up at the door of a church. The old bishop who lives there takes him in, and gives him a place to sleep...in the room where the silver is kept. The bishop acts in the faith that Valjean will not steal. When morning comes, the silverware is gone, as is Valjean. The bishop is saddened. A short time later, a policeman stops Valjean, and finding the silver in his knapsack, takes Valjean back to the church, and asks the Bishop if the silver had been stolen. It is at this point that the bishop decides to show grace. He tells the policeman that he gave Valjean the silver, then brings out the silver candlesticks, and hands them to Valjean, saying how he had was supposed to have those too. Valjean is released, and I think he takes the silver (don't quote me on this) but instead of selling it gives it away or something of that nature. That little act of grace and hospitality by the Bishop changes Valjean's life. He swears never to steal again and comes to terms with God.
It's an incredible story, but I think it can be more than that. How far would a little grace and hospitality go, if we were to share it with those around us? Let's tear down the fences, get out of our clam shells, and open our eyes, our hearts, our minds, our hands, and our doors to the world outside. Let's wave at folks from the front porch again. :)
