Hymns and Hospitality
“Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.”
I realized something recently. I realized that I have lived in my house for 3 1/2 years and have never had one single person over for dinner. That sounds awful, I know. Of course my family has come to stay and I've had a few close friends come over while we sat and talked in my living room, but I've never really entertained. You see, we bought an old house that needed a lot of TLC. We have done a lot to fix up the house and make it beautiful, but there are still many projects to be done. Some of these projects include partially ripped up tile in my dining room, lights that we can't find the switch for, and switches that we can't find the lights for. There are sliding doors that won't close all the way and very outdated bathrooms we just haven't had time to touch. There are so many things about my house that I love, but I've let these unfinished projects stop me from welcoming many guests into my home.
And I think I've been missing the point.
One of my favorite authors, Shauna Niequest, shared in a blog post once that she felt like it was her purpose on this earth to let people know that they are "loved, known, welcome, and enough". I'm learning that this is what hospitality is all about. I'm also learning that hospitality doesn't always include serving Pinterest worthy dinner parties or even perfect dining room floors. Maybe it means setting up a card table in a living room because your dining room isn't big enough to hold everyone or using plastic cups because you don't have enough glass ones. No one will remember the surroundings as much as the love that was felt there and the conversation that was had. In fact, some of my favorite dinners have included plastic cups.
“The heart of hospitality is that when people leave your home they should feel better about themselves, not better about you.”
This has been so convicting to me recently, but so has the idea that hospitality should not only be taking place in my home, but the every day places I find myself. Everywhere I go, I am able to carry God's message that they are loved, known, welcome, and enough. However, the problem is that too often I don't see people as souls whose life matters and who God has a plan for. I see them as: the lady checking me out at the grocery store or the person doing my nails. I carry on small talk giving little to no eye contact usually because I'm in a hurry or, honestly, because I feel awkward.
Its hard and it is sometimes risky to go beneath the surface with people. To seek more than an "I'm fine" response when asking how someone is. It takes more time and more effort to slow down and really try to see people. But thats what we all want, right? To be seen. To know that we matter. To know that somebody cares. Too often I let fear stop me from even basic human interaction and I want to change that. Jesus was the ultimate when it came to showing hospitality. He always welcomed. He was constantly inviting. He was always including and yet the Bible says that He didn't even have a home. Wherever He went He was practicing hospitality and we are instructed to do the same.
Today at work my Pandora station played Jars of Clay's version of the old hymn, "I'll Fly Away". Every time I hear that song it takes me back to a memory from college. I remember going to visit a lady who lived in a nursing home and who was dear to one of my friends. My friend used to work at this nursing home and told us we just had to meet this very special lady. There were about 10 of us there and we were all in her room, gathered around her bed. I hadn't spent much time in nursing homes before and so I was a little uncomfortable. As I looked around her room, I noticed that behind a partially pulled curtain was a roommate. The roommate was a very frail woman with a wig and bright red lipstick. She had a look of sadness on her face and I could hear her moaning quietly. Everyone else was visiting and laughing, but I couldn't help but notice her. She looked like she might be in pain. I walked toward her and sat down in a chair next to her bed. I asked her if I could help her or go get a nurse but I soon realized she couldn't talk. She would just shake her head "no". She looked at me and quiet tears streamed down her face. I patted her hand, but I didn't know what else to do and almost left to rejoin my group who had not noticed I had left.
But instead I quietly started to sing "I'll Fly Away".
I know it sounds weird and its not something I would naturally do, but it just kind of came out. Within a few seconds her expression changed. With tears still falling she began to smile. She would nod her head as if to tell me she knew the song and her eyes were closed like she was going to a different place in her mind. Like she was remembering the goodness of God and that He was preparing a place for her. A place where there were no more tears. A place that would make her forget about her current suffering. I only know the first verse and the chorus by heart and so I just sang that. Over and over.
"Some bright morning when this life is over
I'll fly away
To that home on God's celestial shore
I'll fly away
I'll fly away oh glory
I'll fly away (in the morning)
When I die hallelujah by and by
I'll fly away"
At some point I noticed my friends were leaving. I stopped singing and then held her hand. I introduced myself to her and told her it was a pleasure to have met her. She looked at me with a big smile and squeezed my hand.
I don't know if that sweet woman had a family that came to visit her. I don't know her story and I don't know what she has been through. But I know in that moment she knew that someone saw her. She remembered she had a God who loved her and had not forgotten her. And she remembered that He would welcome her home some day.
Sometimes hospitality looks like inviting friends to dinner. And sometimes it means singing hymns to a stranger. Maybe it means we take time to ask more questions or help when we see a need. I think it could mean we get to know our nail lady, or help the cashier bag our groceries and call her by her name.
I know that it means opening our eyes and asking God to help us see people as He does. It means not just opening our homes, but also our hearts to others. Because everyone has an invitation to the "home on God's celestial shore", but not everyone realizes it.
Let's invite them! May we be welcomers with our words and with our actions. Both in our homes and in our hearts until on our last day when we finally hear with our own ears the Savior say to us, "Welcome Home."