Articles
Jan 11, 1998 - 4 MIN READ

Welcome Home

Dave Faust

I like coming home. The ideal welcome? Walking through the front door to a hug from my wife and kids, the smell of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, and the dog greeting my arrival with tail-wagging enthusiasm. But realistically, coming home is often a far different scene from fighting traffic, I'm grouchy by the time I stumble over my daughter's bookbag left by the door, discover a pile of bills from the day's mail, hear my kids ask for help with homework I don't understand, and find the dog tearing up a piece of carpet again.

I still like coming home, though. I like sitting at our kitchen table—site of countless family meals, mini-debates, homework sessions, Bible studies with friends, holiday breakfasts, and late-night snacks.

I like to travel, too. Travel expands my horizons and introduces me to new friends. But nothing beats coming home. I'm not gone very long before I want to trade the clothes in my suitcase for the faded flannel shirt and well-worn sneakers I wear around the house, and replace restaurant meals with our refrigerator's familiar fare.

Because I like coming home, I enjoy thinking about the hospitality of God. Have you ever praised the Lord for this? God's hospitality appears throughout the Bible. Creation itself was a gracious act of hospitality, for God provided mankind a place to live, work, eat, and rest. "The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it" (Psalm 24:1), yet the Lord graciously shares it with his people.

What is more hospitable than Jesus' invitation, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28)? The New Testament word translated "hospitality" (philoxenia) literally meant "brotherly love for strangers." Christ performed a supreme act of hospitality by reaching out to us when we were strangers and making us members of his own household (Ephesians 2:19). In Christ, the prodigal son finds his Father waiting on the front porch with the light on.

Jesus both gave and received hospitality. Ignoring the barbs of critics who didn't understand his mission, Jesus visited the homes of well-known sinners like Matthew and Zacchaeus (Matthew 9:9-13; Luke 19:1-10). Elsewhere he turned dinner tables into classrooms and simple meals into teaching moments (Luke 7:36-50, 10:38-42, 24:30-32; John 12:2).

Jesus compared the kingdom of God to a great banquet to which everyone is invited—including the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame (Luke 14:15-24). Kingdom people, Jesus said, feed the hungry and house strangers (Matthew 25:34-45). He invites us to join him regularly at his table (Matthew 26:26-28). Expanding the Old Testament concept that faithful people will "dwell in the house of the Lord forever" (Psalm 23:6), Jesus said that his Father's house has many rooms, and he's gone there to prepare a place for us (John 14:1-4). The book of Revelation compares Heaven's joys to the celebration that takes place at a festive wedding reception (19:6-9).

God's hospitality calls for a similar response from us. Jesus says, "I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me" (Revelation 3:20). Once we've opened the door to fellowship with Jesus, it's natural to open the doors of our homes to others who need him.

A friendly church? It's far more than just a church-growth technique. A hospitable Christian home? It's more than just a nice place to enjoy a cup of coffee. In a profound sense, our churches and homes can be microcosms of grace, God's hospitality centers, heavenly "hospitals"—safe places where wounded people find healing, comfort, nurture, and acceptance.

Who wouldn't want to come home to that?

This column first appeared in The Lookout on Jan 11, 1998.

© Dave Faust 1970