Extend Hospitality
READ
Hospitality is risky. When you open your life to someone—especially someone you don't know well—you're making yourself vulnerable. They'll see your mess. They'll see that you don't have it all together. They'll intrude on your space, your time, your comfort. And there's no guarantee they'll appreciate it or reciprocate or even be easy to be around.
Let’s take a moment to read Romans 12:13b:
"extend hospitality to strangers"
REFLECT
Hospitality requires devotion. It's not just about being friendly. It's about making room in your actual life for people who might inconvenience you, might misunderstand you, might not fit neatly into your plans.
But here's what undermines hospitality: self-protection. The desire to keep our lives curated, controlled, comfortable. We build walls—not out of malice, but out of fear. Fear of being judged. Fear of being taken advantage of. Fear of being hurt or disappointed or drained.
And sometimes those fears are valid. Not everyone is safe. Not every stranger is trustworthy. Hospitality doesn't mean being naive or ignoring boundaries. But it does mean being willing to take the risk of opening your life to others, even when it's uncomfortable.
I think about the cultural moment we're in. We're more connected than ever through technology, and yet more isolated than ever in real life. We can have hundreds of online friends and still feel lonely. We can scroll through everyone's highlight reels and never actually enter into anyone's real life.
And here's the pattern I see: the more we consume the world through screens, the more we're lured into curating our own lives for consumption. We present the version of ourselves that looks good, that's impressive, that doesn't reveal too much. And in the process, we close ourselves off from real connection.
Hospitality shatters that pattern. It says, "Come into my actual life. See me as I actually am. Let's share space, share a meal, share our stories." It's an antidote to the isolation that comes from trying to protect our image.
But hospitality is also costly. It requires time you might not have. Energy you might not feel. Emotional bandwidth you might be running low on. And that's okay to acknowledge. You don't have to be hospitable to everyone all the time. But you do have to be hospitable sometimes, to someone, if you want to stay devoted.
Because here's the thing: worldly desires will always pull you inward. Toward self-focus. Toward self-preservation. Toward comfort. But devotion pulls you outward. Toward others. Toward generosity. Toward love that costs you something.
So who is God inviting you to open your life to? Maybe it's someone new at church. Maybe it's a neighbor you've never really talked to. Maybe it's someone who's different from you, who sees the world differently, who might challenge you or stretch you or make you uncomfortable. Maybe that's exactly who you need.
RESPOND
Take a moment to process what God might be leading you to do in light of what you read.
What self-protective patterns have been closing you off from real connection with others?
What worldly desires or comforts are competing for your devotion and keeping you from being hospitable?
Who might God be inviting you to extend hospitality to, and what fears are holding you back?
REST
Take a moment to rest in God’s presence and consider one thing you can take away from your time reading, then close your devotional experience by praying:
God, I confess that I often choose comfort over connection. I protect my space, my time, my image. But You're calling me to something more—to hospitality, to openness, to making room for others. Give me courage to risk being seen and grace to see others well. Help me resist the pull toward isolation and self-focus. Amen.