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There is a great story in the book of 2 Kings (6:20-23) where the enemy Arameans have been captured and brought into the city of Samaria. The King of Israel asks the prophet Elisha whether he should kill them. Elisha says no. Instead, he says, “Set food and water before them so they may eat and drink; and let them go to their master.” So, the king prepared for them a great feast. After they ate and drank, he sent them on their way… And then, the Bible says, “the Arameans no longer came raiding into the land of Israel.”

In his letter to the Romans, the Apostle Paul wrote, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

Toward the end of the Civil War, President Lincoln reportedly began speaking kindly of the rebel soldiers—as fellow human beings. One of his associates upbraided him and told him flat out, “Mr. President, you should not speak kindly of your enemies. You should destroy them.” Mr. Lincoln’s response was this: “Do I not destroy my enemies by making them my friends?”

Let us pray: Merciful God, we remember that Jesus taught us to love our enemies. And, we admit that sometimes that feels near impossible. We begin today simply by praying for those who have hurt us deeply. We lift them up to you—to your care—to your love. We also recognize that there may be some people who will continue to hurt us, and in those cases, give us the courage to get away, and stay away from them.

Today, Lord God, set us free from any anger, bitterness, or hatred we may be carrying. And as we let go, wash us with your grace and fill us with your peace. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Over the past few days, we’ve been reflecting on the gift of hospitality. Of course, we know the early church grew from the first few disciples to a massive movement due to the extraordinary character of Christian hospitality.

Not judgment. Not defensiveness. Not self-preservation.

Hospitality!

And it makes sense, doesn’t it? If you are expecting Jesus to meet you at any point in time as a stranger, you treat people in a whole different way.

Sometimes I think about that when I meet a visitor in church on Sunday morning; or, on a deeper level, sometimes when I pass someone on the street who looks lost or in need. That’s a lot harder…

In a Bible study I taught recently, we raised the following questions:

• In an age of distraction, how might offering our full attention to someone in need be a form of hospitality?
• How about offering someone the gift of a listening ear?
• How about welcoming new people and visitors in your church? What about inviting them to join you for lunch or dinner?
• What about in your daily life—the workplace, when you’re out to dinner, at the grocery store, walking in your neighborhood?

The Apostle Paul writes to the church in Rome: “Let love be genuine… Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.”

In the book of Hebrews we read: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

Let us pray: Holy God, across the ages you have sent us more witnesses than we could recognize, more help than we could seek, and more of yourself than we have been able to recognize or love. Thank you for your hospitality to us. Empower us to share that same love, acceptance, and grace with a world desperately in need. Amen.

Yesterday we reflected on that wonderful story in the book of Genesis (chapter 18) about Abraham and Sarah. In this story, at first, Abraham and Sarah are the hosts—the ones doing the giving. But they end up being the ones who receive the gift.

I wonder if you’ve ever experienced that.

I’ve had the tables turned on me often in ministry. There was a member of a church I once served—a younger man who was dying of cancer. The doctors gave him six weeks to live, but he ended up living five more years. I’ll never forget going to visit him shortly before his death. We were talking, and he was telling me how his diagnosis had not changed his life so much as it actually had given him more life. He said, all of a sudden he appreciated and savored every moment he had—with his wife, each hug from his daughter. Each sunset; each sunrise took on new meaning.

While we were talking it hit me—I wasn’t the one ministering to him—he was ministering to me.

I wonder if Abraham and Sarah felt that.

It is indeed the witness of people of faith across the generations, that more often than not, when we care for someone in need, we end up receiving way more than we ever give.

Let us pray: Holy God, across the ages you have sent us more witnesses than we could recognize, more help than we could seek, and more of yourself than we have been able to recognize or love. Thank you for your hospitality to us. Empower us to share that same love, acceptance, and grace with a world desperately in need. Amen.

In the book of Genesis, chapter 18, there is a wonderful story about Abraham and Sarah. We find Abraham, at this point an old man, hanging out under the oak trees. Three strangers walk up out of nowhere, and for all he knows they’re enemies. But he jumps up, invites them to stay, has their feet washed, and prepares a literal feast for them.

Strangers…

Now a little background here might be helpful. In the ancient Near East, because travel was so dangerous, there was a very strict code of hospitality. You were bound to give food and shelter to anyone who showed up at your doorstep. This was a matter of mutual survival—a sort of social covenant.

For ancient Jews and Christians, there was more at stake. There was a deep-seated belief that showing hospitality to the immigrant, the traveler, the foreigner, or the stranger was a way of meeting and receiving the holy presence of God.

In this story, at first, Abraham and Sarah are the hosts—the ones doing the giving. But they end up being the ones who receive the gift. These strangers turn out to be angels. They speak for God. They promise that Sarah would become pregnant in her old age—and that God was still going to use them in a powerful way.

This act of hospitality opens the door to a holy moment…

I don’t know about you, but I probably need to pray for the ability to be more hospitable to strangers. Because I think about the other side of this. What a sweet concept hospitality is—especially when we are on the receiving end.

A few years ago, a friend was telling me about how—when she was first trying to come to grips with her addiction to alcohol—she went to her first AA meeting. Of course, she was very scared. When she showed up, a very large intimidating man walked right up to her. I guess he sensed her nervousness, and he said, “You must be new here. It’s going to be alright. Come on in.”

In the book of Hebrews we read: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

How might that look for you over this holy season?

Let us pray: Holy God, across the ages you have sent us more witnesses than we could recognize, more help than we could seek, and more of yourself than we have been able to recognize or love. Thank you for your hospitality to us. Empower us to share that same love, acceptance, and grace with a world desperately in need. Amen.

I have a friend who has battled depression over the years, and she tells me that every day, without fail, she writes in her gratitude journal. Every day without fail, she lists 10 things that she’s thankful for. Not generic things—not just: Oh, I’m thankful for friends and family—but much more specific:

I’m thankful for the smell of fresh-brewed coffee first thing in the morning; the shade and sunlight at play on the trees in the late afternoon; the dog curled up on her bed next to the fire; the phone call from my daughter and her easy laughter; the quiet stillness of my grandchild breathing—sound asleep after a full day of play.

Personally, I think about an elderly couple I regularly see holding hands in worship. A young man and older gentleman walking together to help fight hunger. The strong cry of a three-month-old baby, baby Legend, held tight in the arms of a friend who is now this baby’s adopted mother. I think about the prayer of a granddaughter so eloquently spoken at the hospice bedside of her grandmother—and the tenderness of the touch between them.

My friend tells me that without fail this exercise, naming just 10 things, leaves her feeling alive, hopeful, and ready for the day.

Author Melody Beattie once wrote, “Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more… It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

All of that said, gratitude is a discipline in that it involves a conscious effort. It is a choice. Today, may you notice the gifts around you as gifts. May you reflect on what difference Christ has made in your life, your faith community, and your faith. May you give thanks. And may you respond with all of your heart.

Let us pray: As we approach Christmas, O God, we remember the gift of your Son and your unconditional love for each one of us. We don’t have to look far to see how your blessings abound. We do indeed return our deepest gratitude. And in response, we ask you to use our lives, our words, and deeds to bless others. We pray in Christ. Amen.