In the days of Jesus and the disciples, of the apostles and the early church, many Christians would travel from city to city. Some fleeing from persecution, some evangelizing as missionaries, some visiting other believers. There were no hotels and the few inns existing were not always desirable nor available. The homes of other Christians, then, were essential to safe travel, encouragement, and spreading the gospel. Hospitality was a testimony of God’s love. 

Paul would write Timothy that the Elders and leaders of a church must be hospitable (1 Timothy 3:2). Paul would encourage the Christians in Rome to “seek to show hospitality” (Romans 12:13). To “seek” or to “practice” points to vigorous effort, meaning it’s not always a pleasant social gathering, but often inconvenient and for strangers. 

Peter urged those he pastored to “Show hospitality to one another without grumbling.” (1 Peter 4:9) The other side of “without grumbling” is “with openheartedness”. The writer of Hebrews urges us to “not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” (13:2)

Abraham was quick to offer hospitality to one who was in fact “the LORD”. He who would in turn after the meal give Abraham the greatest blessing of his life. (Genesis 18:1-15).

David sings in Psalm 23 that “The LORD is my Shepherd; I shall not want.” The Shepherd prepares a table in the wilderness and David, a refugee and wanderer, takes his seat. David pours out his heart and points us towards another table: the cross where the sacrificed Lamb of God becomes the feast of eternal life. It’s the table of salvation, the greatest, most radical act of hospitality the world has ever seen. Practiced for and extended to all the world.

In Jesus we who are far off are brought near. We are welcomed in as sons and daughters of God, though we were His enemies and sinners. We are forgiven, washed, cleansed, clothed, fed, and given a new name and life and home. This message and act of good news is one that now fills our hearts and our mouths. Our lives become an embodiment of that hospitality, of what it means and looks like to have our status changed from stranger to guest, from outsider to adopted.

In the days of the early church hospitality was not reciprocated between individuals. Rather, it was reciprocated between communities or local groups of believers. A stranger who was welcomed with warmth and generosity would return and sing the praises of their host. (And, if not, they would report their ill treatment as guests.) So in turn, one community would repay another community by showing hospitality. 

To encourage hospitality, when Christians would travel from city to city, they would often bring with them a letter of recommendation from their community back home. This letter would “help divest the stranger of strangeness, to make at least only a partial stranger, if not an immediate guest.” To welcome the stranger was to honor the community, while to refuse the stranger was to dishonor the community.

So we are, the local church and local believers, the community of Christ on earth. And not only that. Jesus would say to us in this hour, in this season of our life, in this day of our culture: “You yourselves are (my) letter of recommendation…to be known and read by all.” (2 Corinthians 3:2) Christ sends us out into the world to practice hospitality—to sing the praises of our great Host, to honor him, to give witness to His great mercy, grace, and love. Through our hospitality we can welcome people into the richness and fulness of life with God.