On my recent trip to the Dominican Republic I had a valuable lesson reinforced to my own heart, namely, that hospitality is a matter of the heart not a matter of the home. So often, this precious grace of Christian fellowship is neglected because many people don’t believe they have the right kind of home suitable to entertain others. Matters of adequate space, or appropriate furniture, or sufficient food have all been used as viable excuses not to open one’s home up to other Christians to the neglect of real relationship building and enriching fellowship. And it took a trip to a small barrio in the city of La Vega to remind me that none of those oft cited concerns have anything to do with genuine Christian hospitality.
I was blessed on several occasions to enter homes a quarter of the size of the average American home. In comparison of what we’re accustomed to here in the States, these tiny dwellings would be shunned by most as subpar at best. But because of the hearts of those who resided within, these homes were some of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. No, I didn’t marvel at the finest of China, or at the elegance of furniture, but instead, I was overwhelmed with the warmth of Christlike generosity and humility of service. Wherever we went, these dear brothers and sisters greeted us with the genuineness of, “Mi Casa Es Su Casa” – and boy did they mean it.
You see, these Dominican believers weren’t worried about décor or shallow appearances; they were concerned with making us feel welcomed and loved. They opened their hearts to us, and that transformed their humble dwellings into palatial palaces. They reminded me that it doesn’t take much to make people feel special, but it does take sincerity of heart. Hebrews 13:2 says, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.” I wonder if in fact, it was I who was in the company of angels. O’ how much of the true experience of the “love of the brethren” do we forfeit because we don’t understand that our homes are simply an extension and expression of our hearts. Or maybe, that’s actually the problem—our homes are closed because our hearts are closed.
I was blessed on several occasions to enter homes a quarter of the size of the average American home. In comparison of what we’re accustomed to here in the States, these tiny dwellings would be shunned by most as subpar at best. But because of the hearts of those who resided within, these homes were some of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. No, I didn’t marvel at the finest of China, or at the elegance of furniture, but instead, I was overwhelmed with the warmth of Christlike generosity and humility of service. Wherever we went, these dear brothers and sisters greeted us with the genuineness of, “Mi Casa Es Su Casa” – and boy did they mean it.
You see, these Dominican believers weren’t worried about décor or shallow appearances; they were concerned with making us feel welcomed and loved. They opened their hearts to us, and that transformed their humble dwellings into palatial palaces. They reminded me that it doesn’t take much to make people feel special, but it does take sincerity of heart. Hebrews 13:2 says, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.” I wonder if in fact, it was I who was in the company of angels. O’ how much of the true experience of the “love of the brethren” do we forfeit because we don’t understand that our homes are simply an extension and expression of our hearts. Or maybe, that’s actually the problem—our homes are closed because our hearts are closed.
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