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Dear God of Words,
Let me first give you some context. I am a mother of three with a large house and a ton of responsibilities to manage. My husband has a very important job that keeps him very busy and so it falls on me to ensure that everything at home runs absolutely smoothly. Now, I’m not one to boast but I’m just letting you know that if You visited our home, you’d never guess that I have a 2-year-old and no maids.
So, I met the Turners in Church the other day. Since they were new in town, I thought I’d be a good Christian and invited them over for a meal. I slogged away on making sure everything was absolutely perfect when they came. Now, I’m not one to be insensible. I immediately realized they weren’t too well off and I had no real expectations of getting anything in return. So, I was quite surprised when Mrs. Turner handed me a vase to thank me for having them over.
Today, I picked some roses from my gorgeous garden for the vase and what do you know? There was a crack in the bottom and the water from it had leaked, completely drenching my living room carpet. Now, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what an insult?! After all my hard work to be kind to them, that’s what I get in return? The least they could have done was to be careful about how they repay me for my kind gesture.
Whatever happened to proper acknowledgement and respect for good, old-fashioned hospitality?
Yours,
Mrs. Horse-spit-able!
Dear Mrs. Horse-spit-able!
I must admit that name had me laughing for a decent length of time. You are, in some ways, right. The appreciation for a hospitable nature has certainly waned over time. In a world of hyper-advanced security systems, where a child’s first words are “Stranger Danger”, it’s only natural that hospitality would take a hit.
I wonder if you've read a wonderful story that a friend of mine wrote called ‘The Selfish Giant’. In that lovely story is a Giant, whose garden experienced a perpetual winter because he had selfishly banished little children from it. I am often reminded of this story when I look about at people, today - how they shudder perpetually, locking everyone else out. “It’s only common sense!” they call back, “the world is a dangerous place. Use the common sense that God gave you!” I wonder if they will ever know that 'Common Sense' is not what I gave them or that it is merely the Common man’s Sensitivity to a good world, gone bad.
No! What I made Common was the Sensation of
- fine hairs that stand on edge when they watch a soldier as he is reunited with his family,
- hearts that skip a beat when the 80-year-old man clutches his wife’s arm tightly as they walk down the crowded pavement,
- eyes that tear up as the crowd clad in black pours out of the chapel behind the four stooping shoulders that bear too small a coffin.
That’s what I gave them - hearts that would go out to others even if they were utter strangers.
Ma’am, I compliment you for the hard work you put in to give the best you could for the Turners. I saw how hard you worked. I’m unsure how much My recognition of that would mean to you, though. But I’m afraid that that’s where the goodness of the gesture ends. You see, like the Selfish Giant’s garden, the heart remains in perpetual winter as long as the people stay out of it. You invited the Turners into your home but I wonder if you invited them into your heart.
You were right when you estimated that the right response to the strangers should be kindness. I have always insisted on hospitality to My people. Some, in obeying that, have entertained angels and some even entertained Me, without knowing it. But you see, Ma’am, hospitality in the absence of love really is only “horse-spit-able” (if you don’t mind me using your term). And love without hospitality is just plain impossible.
Now, I’m not one to complain too much but it saddens me that Mrs. Turner sacrificed her mother’s favourite vase and got only a perfect meal in a perfect house in return. I have a feeling she thinks she got a friend.
Yours,
The God of the Hospitable