Hospitality as a Spiritual Practice of Inclusion
The biscuits were burning when I opened the oven and a cloud of smoke rolled out. The fire alarm started beeping, the toddler started crying, and the doorbell rang in the same ten-second stretch. I pulled the biscuits out and found them black on the bottom. I waved a dish towel at the smoke detector, scooped up the toddler, and opened the front door with flour on my shirt and a baby on my hip.
Our new neighbors were standing on the porch. They had moved in two weeks ago and I had been meaning to introduce myself. I had been waiting until the house was clean and I had a proper meal to offer and the living room looked like the kind of place where people would want to sit down. I opened the door with burnt biscuits and a crying toddler instead.
They came in anyway while the wife stepped over a pile of shoes by the door and the husband laughed at the smoke detector and said we do that too, at least twice a month. We sat at the kitchen table with the blackened biscuits between us and I learned that they had moved from Ohio and their daughter was in my second-grader's class and they had been nervous about meeting people.
I almost didn't open the door because the biscuits were burnt.
The Difference Between Entertaining and Hospitality
That night I sat at the kitchen table after the neighbors left and kept thinking about the biscuits. I had spent two days worrying about whether the house was clean enough. But the visit happened in the middle of a disaster and it was better than any version I had planned.
Entertaining centers on the host while hospitality centers on the guest. Entertaining asks did I do it right? Hospitality asks did they feel welcome? I've spent most of my adult life confusing the two.
How to Be More Hospitable in a Busy Home
The neighbors didn't care about the burnt biscuits. They cared that someone opened the door and said come in, sit down, the kitchen is messy but we have tea.
I wrote about this in Hospitality of the Heart: From Perfect Hosting to Gospel Welcome and the principle keeps showing up in new ways. Hospitality doesn't require a clean house or a planned menu. It requires a willingness to let someone see your real life and still feel like they belong.
A busy home can be a hospitable home. The key is shifting the focus from what you're offering to who you're welcoming. When the guest becomes the center of attention, the mess fades into the background and the burnt biscuits become a story instead of an embarrassment.
LDS Perspective on Welcoming Strangers
There is a verse in Hebrews that I've been thinking about.
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares (Hebrews 13:2).
I used to read this verse and think about the angel part. But lately I've been thinking about strangers more literally. People who might feel like they don't belong. A new convert unsure where to sit during Relief Society, a single adult walking into a family-focused activity, a teenager bracing for judgment. The widow who used to have a full pew and now sits alone.
Hospitality is the spiritual practice of noticing these people and making sure they know they're seen.
Creating a Welcoming Home for Struggling Teens
I think about hospitality in the context of my own teenagers. They bring friends home sometimes who are going through hard things. Friends who don't go to church and are testing every boundary to see if we'll still be kind.
The most important thing I can offer these teenagers is a space where they don't have to perform. Where they can sit at the kitchen table and eat whatever I put in front of them and talk or not talk. I stock the pantry with things teenagers actually want to eat and I try not to ask too many questions when they first walk in. I let my own kids do the welcoming. They know how to make someone feel comfortable in a way I can't replicate as an adult.
We talk about Jesus eating with sinners and tax collectors and we teach our children that this wasn't about the quality of the meal but about the willingness to sit with people who needed to be seen. The same applies in our home. We don't need a perfect table or an elaborate centerpiece. We just need an open door.
Simple Ways to Practice Christian Hospitality
Over the years I've learned that the best hospitality is the simplest. A pot of soup that stretches for extra people. A stack of paper plates so nobody feels bad about breaking a dish. An open invitation to stop by after church without calling first. These small practices remove the barriers that keep us from opening our doors.
I wrote about this in The Open Door: From Perfect Hosting to Heart Hospitality and I keep coming back to the same conclusion. The people who need hospitality the most are often the ones who are least likely to ask for it. They're waiting for an invitation and someone to notice them standing at the edge of the room. I want my door to be the one that opens.
Frequently Asked Questions
What if my house is too messy to invite people over?
The most welcoming homes are often the ones that feel lived in. When you prioritize a guest's comfort over your own image, the mess becomes secondary. Try inviting someone over specifically because things are imperfect. It lowers the pressure for everyone.
How can I include people who might feel like they don't fit in?
Focus on belonging instead of fitting in. Let guests know they're welcome exactly as they are and create a low-pressure environment where they don't need to perform. The goal is for them to feel seen and valued.
How do I teach my children to be hospitable?
Involve them in the welcoming process. Ask them to find a way to make a guest feel comfortable or to share a favorite toy or story. This teaches them that hospitality is an act of love, not a chore.
What if I can't afford to host people with a big meal?
Hospitality doesn't need to be elaborate. A cup of tea and a conversation counts. A bowl of popcorn and a willingness to listen counts. The food isn't the point. The welcome is the point.
How do I handle the anxiety of inviting people over?
Start small by inviting one person for something simple like coffee. Let the house be imperfect on purpose. The anxiety fades when you realize that people aren't coming to inspect your home. They're coming to be with you.
The biscuits were a total loss so I threw them away and made a new batch the next morning. I brought them to the neighbors' house in a basket with a note that said welcome, sorry about the smoke alarm. They laughed. They said the burnt biscuits made them feel better about their own moving disaster and they thanked me for opening the door.
I thought about the verse in Hebrews again. Maybe the angel wasn't the stranger on the porch. Maybe the angel was the burnt biscuit that reminded me that hospitality starts with showing up as yourself, not as a polished version of yourself.
with love, Melissa