We all agree that hospitality is wonderful. The Bible commands it: “Show hospitality to one another without grumbling” (1 Peter 4:9). The picture of people surrounding your table laughing and eating is a rosy scene indeed. And certainly, it’s something we’d like to practice — if only the schedule were not so tight, the windows not so very smudged, and our entryway not so often overflowing with baggage. We don’t live in a serene and bedewed scene from a Martha Stewart magazine. Rather, we’re panting in our efforts not to fall off the treadmill of life. To open our door to more people feels like an overwhelming, intimidating exercise; life is hard enough without it.
It’s true that hospitality is hard work. If it were nothing more than the secular version of “entertaining,” with no greater payoff than socializing or posturing, then certainly I would opt out when the going got tough. But Christian hospitality is more than a pretty table; it’s a great weapon God has given the local church to sharpen, strengthen, encourage, and build one another up in our faith. And I write this with a broken dishwasher and three hospitality events this week!
So let’s reassess the stakes and rightly interpret the goal. Why is hospitality such an indispensable feature for life in Christ? Consider six ways hospitality serves as a weapon of grace in the fight for faith.
1. We welcome and deepen relationships.
In every era of redemptive history, table fellowship stands as a profound expression of welcome. Look at some Old Testament stories:
Abraham welcomed three angelic strangers (Genesis 18:1–5).
Moses and seventy elders of Israel ate and drank in God’s presence on Mount Sinai (Exodus 24:9–11).
David showed mercy to Saul’s grandson, Mephibosheth, inviting him to share the king’s table (2 Samuel 9:6–7).
The practice continues into the New Testament. Consider the early church, who forged fellowship through the daily breaking of bread together (Acts 2:46). No less today will we find that we can “welcome one another as Christ has welcomed [us]” at our tables (Romans 15:7). When we gather together to share a meal, we physically embody the psalmist’s cry: “As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones, in whom is all my delight” (Psalm 16:3).
2. We set an example for other believers.
Consider Paul’s instructions to “join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us” (Philippians 3:17). Or remember his call to practice “what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me” (Philippians 4:9). This kind of lived-out example implies a richer shared experience than just the time spent gathered as a church for worship.
My family has enjoyed such experiences firsthand. When my husband and I were newlyweds, we joined a small group of empty nesters. What a gift it was to witness warm, gospel-aged marriages when we were just acclimating to life together. And what a wealth of insights we gained from more experienced parents as we first navigated toddlers or bridged into the nurture of school-aged children. As time has passed, God has blessed us not only as recipients of hospitality but also through opportunities to show hospitality to others. Now we often have the joy of welcoming middle schoolers, high schoolers, parents, and families around our table.
Scripture calls mature men (2 Timothy 2:2) and women (Titus 2:4) to invest their years of godly life and experience in those who follow them; opening your home provides a warm and personal context for doing so.
3. We detect sin and fight for faith with other believers.
Casual conversation in the church hallway may be a meaningful touchpoint, but often it is insufficient for truly knowing and being known by God’s people. As Hebrews 3:12–13 urges, “Take care, brothers, lest there be in any of you an evil, unbelieving heart, leading you to fall away from the living God. But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called ‘today,’ that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.”
Not only does sin tempt us to mask its presence from others in superficial relationships, but it also deceives and numbs us to its real depth and toxicity. Too often, when left to our own devices, our apathy deepens and we rationalize or minimize bad habits, like a drunkard who is sure he can stop any time he wants. Ongoing fellowship, with its gift of fresh perspective and mutual accountability, is a crucial defense against unbelief and the creep of subtle sins.
4. We bear one another’s burdens.
If you have ever joined a new church, spent a holiday alone, or struggled through a season of suffering, you may relate to the balm of hospitality: the gift of food to nourish your belly and caring conversation to refresh your soul. In times of crisis or celebration, the simple provision of food and someone with whom to share it conveys a disproportionate amount of care. It’s an exercise in rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep (Romans 12:15).
Perhaps you worry your hospitality is too simple and unrefined. Remember what Proverbs 15:17 says: “Better is a dinner of herbs where love is than a fattened ox and hatred with it.” Truly, if you have received pizza on paper plates from a joyful and caring host, you know the soul nourishment that may come through even the smallest offerings of warm hospitality.
5. We declare the goodness of God and the sweetness of the gospel.
God created the crispness and tenderness of roasted potatoes, the juiciness of a grilled burger, and the melting notes of brown sugar and butter ribboned with chocolate in fresh chocolate chip cookies. For little children, for teenagers — for all of us — savoring God’s delicious gifts shapes an exclamation point to our convictions about God’s goodness, God’s generosity, and God’s grace.
As believers, we trace the beam of good food and shared fun up to the blazing source, our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ. May our homes be full of object lessons declaring, “Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good!” (Psalm 34:8).
6. We sharpen our understanding of the truth.
During the Reformation, swaths of people underwent a radical transformation in their understanding of Christ, the church, and the nature of salvation by grace through faith. One crucial component of this cultural renewal was a robust space for connection: meals and conversations hosted by Martin and Katie Luther. Centuries later, a similar hotbed of fruitful Christian witness, reflection, and sharpening flourished during the gatherings of the Inklings. Authors such as J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis bantered, honed ideas, and traded encouragement and insight over food and drink at a local residence or pub.
Such table fellowship is central to gospel life. When Peter traded meals with every tribe and tongue for fellowship only with those who upheld Jewish customs, Paul rebuked him for distorting the truth of the gospel (Galatians 2:12–14). How powerful the opposite example must be: We point to the unifying work of Christ by opening our table wide, foreshadowing the expansiveness of “the marriage supper of the Lamb” (Revelation 19:7–9).
Grace Between Two Feasts
The Bible opens and closes with portraits of God’s lavish personal communion with his people amid food and fellowship (Genesis 1:29–30; Revelation 19:6–9). And for us — God’s children, living between those two garden feasts — hospitality means gutsy, gritty gatherings where we give and receive grace. The labor sometimes feels strenuous. The conversation or connections may not always be smooth and seamless. However, keeping our eyes on the fruit of this investment may spur us on when the cost seems high.
Let’s wield the common grace of food and hospitality. Let’s not allow a full schedule or the fleeting ideal of a spotless home to overwhelm the vision of great fruit that may come through small steps of faith-filled fellowship. Feast together to fight.
Desiring God