hospitality

A while back I picked up a hitch-hiker. I ended up wishing I hadn’t – he was drunk, he badly needed a shower, and his filthy backpack made a mess of the back seat. But I rode with him for four hours, from just north of Cedar Rapids to the junction of Highway 20 and Highway 4. And I listened.

He was homeless, on his way to the West Coast where he though it would be easier to winter over on the streets. He’d been in Coralville where an old friend had offered him a room and got him a job, but he messed that up by sleeping with the friend’s wife, so he was back on his own again. He had a daughter – wife left him years ago – but she had given up on him too. I had no idea how to engage this guy, so I just listened.

But then he talked about his hope – he knew Jesus, and knew that there was hope in Jesus. He’d been trying to make Jesus happy in Coralville but it had been so long since he’d had an intimate relationship he couldn’t handle the temptation. He was so devastated and discouraged by what he’d done to his old friend that he crawled into a bottle and wasn’t sure he’d ever crawl out again. But he wanted to, and he wanted to become a person who could please Jesus.

I offered to help him find an agency that could help him, at least with a hot meal and a bed for the night, but he didn’t want that. So at the truck stop I bought him a meal and we ate together, and I prayed for him in the parking lot.  The car reeked of cheap beer and body odor the rest of the way home. 

But I felt cautiously good about it. I felt like I’d encouraged him. I felt that Jesus would certainly know about this man who want to please him, and Jesus wouldn’t leave that man by himself. I want to believe he somewhere found a safe place to be. 

This morning, on my way through Hebrews, I got to chapter 13 verse 2: “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”

I doubt this man was an angel, but he was a brother and a fellow image-bearer. Maybe there was an angle somewhere in the vicinity; maybe for a minute I did the work of an angel. I know for sure that I haven’t been able to get this man out of my mind; he has forced me to think a lot about homeless people and how much glee Satan must have when his whispered lies succeed in running lives into the ditch. 

Hospitality takes many forms, but I think its most precious manifestation is when it is offered to strangers, especially strangers in need, strangers with nothing to offer. If the pessimistic are right, we’re going to see more and more of them. Even if they’re wrong, there are more than enough needy strangers right now. 

So I’m watching for more opportunities. I’ll even accept the body odor and stained seat – it’s a fair trade for a chance to be Jesus’ hands and feet to a wandering soul.