One area of deep learning I am pursuing is the art of staying with people well in all states of being. This capacity of being proximal in joy and pain really defines our depth of relationship in community and will dictate how lonesome or connected we become. I’ve found true hospitality is a lot more about an open heart than an open door.
Doors are easy to open, hearts are more complex. We can open our doors to a proud and performative act. We can open our doors because it’s a good thing to do. We can open our doors to make ourselves feel good. Or, we can open our doors to invite people into the reality of all that is true about us. Transformative hospitality is not only the act of inviting people into our homes but the art of inviting them into our hearts. It is not only us giving to individuals more needy than us, but the invitation to family around a table. As Tyler Stanton says, it is “pursuing service with the intent of kinship1.”
A lot of small groups, hospitality programs, and endeavours to spark community fall flat on the face of excited vision. Superficial clubs cannot assuage the deep desire to be intimately known. Perfectly placed tables are beautiful but don’t have the power within themselves to change a heart.
“The person who loves their dream of community will destroy community, but the person who loves those around them will create community.”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Change happens in intimate relationship with God and others. Change happens when we learn to host the Holy Spirit as we venture into vulnerable places of our hearts. What looks like radical hospitality to us today is true disciples living in obedience to the words of Jesus. It’s not radical, it’s obedient love. It’s life altering and very uncomfortable but truly transformative.
The deep down truth is, we need the people that come into our homes as much as they need us. Sometimes more.
I distinctly remember a time when we were hosting a family for some months. It was unplanned, our apartment was very small, and we were in an intense season of hosting. People sat in the hallways to eat their rice. One evening I was in my bedroom grieving the death of my brother. The thin walls must not have been enough to keep the sound out and the lady we were hosting slipped into my room, knelt beside my bed, and wrapped her arms around me.
It was the start of a friendship that I know will last my entire lifetime, forged in the discomfort of thin walls, a very tiny kitchen, and both of our hearts learning to let each other in.
Doing hospitality is a lot different than being a hospitable person. One performs the expected act, the other does the deep work of staying soft and open.
We can cook a lot of beautiful food with a closed and hardened heart. We can host a lot of perfect parties with a superficial smile. But biblical hospitality, the kind that invites strangers to the Christmas table and adds last minute plates to a crowded dinner table, and invites guests to get in real close to our tears and triumphs— that can only be done with a heart that has chosen to stay open and soft to the words of Jesus.
It is His words that speak a strong identity over us and that free us from all fear of letting people in. One of the main rebuttals I hear when I talk about this transformative hospitality is that we all need boundaries and space. When I dig a little deeper in those conversations I generally hit a mine of fear. We’re afraid our home won’t be nice enough or our children will suffer. We’re afraid our cooking is subpar or our leadership will lack confidence. All of these subtle little fears control us and leave us superficial and alone.
What if we learned to live in love and invite in love?
Love is the greatest partially because it makes us strong enough to do what God has called us to. We are perfected in love, not in learning to be better. If we learn to hear a strong identity of love from the Father’s voice over our lives we can learn to live fearlessly free and open to others. We can throw the doors of our hearts wide open. The doors of our homes generally follow. We add more boards to our tables. We rest a little more.
These last months of sickness have found me on the couch when guests arrive and leave. Meals have been takeout or cooked by others and I often don’t make it to the table. I can’t offer to make the coffee because it makes me vomit. But I need the people coming into my home, and they don’t need my perfection— just my honesty. They have lavishly poured care on me and sat with me in my discomfort and laid hands on me in prayer for healing. I haven’t been lonesome, I’ve been loved.
Today is a new opportunity to assess your activities and ask if they are bearing deep relational fruit. Become comfortable with friends both raging and rejoicing freely in your presence. Open your heart to being extravagantly loved and rest in the perfection God is making you into. Invite your friends into the imperfections.
And then stretch your table wide, light the candles, bake that perfect bread, and fling open your door— inviting people into the reality of the gospel; extravagant welcome, radical hospitality, and intimate friendship forged on the beautiful foundation of living our deepest despairs and greatest joys together with Him. This is the hospitality that changes the world because it brings the welcome of heaven right down into the lonely despair of this earth, and puts faces and tastes and smells to the love of God poured out through our doors and tables and hearts all wide open to Him.
Photo by Sixteen Miles Out on Unsplash
- Quote from Tyler Stanton’s new book The Familiar Stranger ↩︎
katekleinsasser.com 
This is so well written Kate! Thanks for sharing. The following really stood out to me and it’s an area that I want to grow in and learn more about……Doors are easy to open, hearts are more complex. We can open our doors to a proud and performative act. We can open our doors because it’s a good thing to do. We can open our doors to make ourselves feel good. Or, we can open our doors to invite people into the reality of all that is true about us. Transformative hospitality is not only the act of inviting people into our homes but the art of inviting them into our hearts.
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