Published on: 26/05/2026
For some, hospitality is a gift. It’s where they thrive, it impacts which house they buy, or how they set out their homes. They feel most fulfilled when they have guests. For others, the weight of preparation weighs heavily on their shoulders. For myself, the temptation can be to view hospitality as something that I’m not equipped for, my small living space (and sometimes empty fridge!) doesn’t feel like an easy place to host others.
I wonder what ideas come to mind when you consider the idea of hospitality. A neat and tidy line of colourful mugs on the countertop, along with the final furied rumblings of a kettle, perhaps? The scratchy tearing sound of a packet of biscuits, maybe some conversation about which truly is the best kind? Or perhaps you think of something more formal; children tasked to lay the table, pringles in one of the nice bowls. Maybe the thought of hospitality involves even more commitment and sacrifice: fresh sheets and towels in a spare room, the offer of breakfast in the morning as well as tea the night before.
All of these things, of course, are expressions of loving generosity in their own right. However, teacups and cake and the best seat in the house are not hospitality by themselves, they are the preparations which allow hospitality to take place. In his book Reaching Out: The Three Movements of a Spiritual Life, Henri Nouwen expressed it this way:
“Hospitality means primarily the creation of free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. It is not to bring men and women over to our side, but to offer freedom not disturbed by dividing lines.”
When viewed in this light, hospitality moves from the occasional practice of hosting others to a posture that can be taken in every season of life, every interaction of the week. Hospitality can take place wherever we create that free space for connection. Offering a seat to a stranger is a hospitable act, as is accepting such an offer from a stranger with gratitude. Expressing a vulnerability is a hospitable act, as it invites others to do the same.
Another definition of hospitality that crossed my desk recently was that hospitality “welcomes the stranger into the ordinary mess of our lives. There’s no impressing or performing in true hospitality; it’s about inviting people to share life with you.” Therein lies the challenge to somebody like me, who might have counted himself out from being hospitable. No matter my resources and giftings, I can hold my heart, mind and behaviour in a posture of hospitality, inviting others not merely to share in my home but to share in my life, and to allow my life to be a space where strangers can become friends and lasting, liberating change can take place in the power of the Spirit. The question of living a hospitable life becomes so much bigger, and much less avoidable. Where can I create free space for strangers to become friends?
When talking about Lights for Christ as an initiative, we like to talk about receiving the light of Christ, so that we might walk in the light of Christ and reflect the Light of Christ to those around us. Such a rhythm of life means that we live as disciples of Jesus every day. While hospitality might be seen as reflecting the light of Christ, a way of showing the love of Jesus to others, there’s also a case to be made that when we walk in the light of Christ, we live hospitable lives that are welcoming to those around us.
If you’d like to speak to the Lights for Christ team about discipleship, intentional and fruitful living, or discipling other people in your church or community, we’d love to hear from you through our email: lightsforchrist@sheffield.anglican.org.
This week’s blog post has been written by Joe Goodchild, Assistant Lights for Christ Enabler