Biblical Hospitality Might Not Be What You Think

Biblical hospitality goes far beyond having people over for dinner or being polite to visitors. It’s the radical, costly practice of welcoming strangers – particularly those who are displaced, vulnerable, and dependent on others’ mercy. Throughout Scripture, God calls His people to extend the same unconditional welcome to foreigners that He extends to us.

I used to think hospitality meant having people over for dinner.

You know the kind – carefully planned meals, matching napkins, house cleaned to perfection. The sort of entertaining that made me feel good about myself as a hostess while keeping everyone safely within my comfort zone. My guests were people like me, who shared my background, my values, my understanding of the world. Usually they were friends from church.

I was pretty proud of my hospitality, actually. Until I started studying what the Bible actually says about welcoming strangers.

Now I have a much clearer understanding of hospitality, and it’s not what I used to think at all.

The Uncomfortable Truth About Biblical Hospitality

What does the Bible say about welcoming strangers? How should Christians treat immigrants and refugees? Why does Scripture repeatedly command God’s people to care for foreigners? These aren’t just theological questions – they’re deeply personal ones that challenge the very foundation of comfortable Christianity.

The Hebrew word for stranger, ger, doesn’t refer to dinner guests or weekend visitors. It describes people who are displaced, vulnerable, dependent on the mercy of others for survival. When God commands Israel to “love the sojourner” in Deuteronomy 10:19, He’s not talking about pleasant social gatherings. He’s calling His people to radical, costly, life-disrupting love.

Throughout Scripture, this call to welcome strangers isn’t optional – it’s commanded, with warnings of divine judgment for those who oppress immigrants and promises of blessing for those who welcome them. (You can explore a collection of Bible verses about immigration and welcoming strangers for more of Scripture’s teaching on this topic.)

This kind of hospitality doesn’t fit neatly into our suburban understanding of faith. It can’t be contained within the walls of our churches or the boundaries of our neighborhoods. Biblical hospitality demands that we step beyond the margins of our comfort and encounter Christ in the most unexpected places.

When Faith Gets Personal

“You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” – Leviticus 19:33-34

I’ve read this verse dozens of times, but it hit me differently when I was wrestling with my own questions about immigration. Notice what God doesn’t say here. He doesn’t say “be nice to strangers when it’s convenient.” He doesn’t suggest we help them “if they deserve it” or “after they prove themselves worthy.” The command is stark in its simplicity and revolutionary in its implications: treat them as yourself.

Does this sound familiar? If you were raised in the evangelical church it should. It’s the salvation message given to us, the one that says we can come to God exactly as we are without having to prove ourselves worthy.

This verse strips away every comfortable excuse I’ve used to maintain distance from those who make me uncomfortable. God’s reasoning is painfully clear – you were once strangers too. You know what it feels like to be displaced, to depend on others’ mercy, to be vulnerable in a foreign place.

But here’s what makes this truly challenging for someone like me: I’ve never experienced the kind of displacement that creates empathy for immigrants and refugees. I’ve never been a stranger in the truest sense. So God’s call to remember our own experience as strangers forces me beyond my personal history into a deeper spiritual truth.

We are all strangers in this world, displaced from our true home, dependent on God’s mercy for survival.

Why This Feels So Hard

Jesus made this connection explicit in Matthew 25:35 when He said, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” Not “I was like a stranger” or “I sent a stranger to represent me.” Jesus identifies Himself completely with the displaced, the foreign, the unwelcome.

This means every time I encounter someone who doesn’t belong – whether because of their nationality, their documentation status, their economic situation, or simply their otherness – I’m encountering Christ Himself. The stranger at my door isn’t a ministry opportunity or a chance to feel good about myself. The stranger is Jesus, testing whether my faith extends beyond the comfortable boundaries I’ve created.

I’ve been thinking about this lately when I hear people talk about immigrants needing to behave like “guests” in America. Recently, Arnold Schwarzenegger used this exact analogy on The View, saying immigrants should “keep things clean” and “make their bed” like houseguests.

But here’s what strikes me about that analogy: it goes both ways. If immigrants are guests, then what does that make us? We’re the hosts. And right now, we are not being hospitable.

When I think about how I treat actual guests in my home – the care I take to make them feel welcome, safe, and valued – it’s clear that our nation is not extending that same hospitality to the strangers God sends our way.

I wish this felt easier to accept. I wish I could read these verses and immediately transform into someone who welcomes every stranger with open arms. But the truth is, this kind of hospitality demands sacrifice on our part.

Biblical hospitality doesn’t allow me to love only those who can love me back, serve only those who can serve me in return, or welcome only those who make me feel safe and affirmed. It demands that I move beyond the margins of my comfort zone and discover Christ in the places I’d rather not go.

And I’m learning that’s exactly where spiritual growth happens.

What I’m Learning About Faith

The prophets understood this. Listen to the warning in Malachi 3:5: “Then I will draw near to you for judgment. I will be a swift witness against… those who thrust aside the sojourner, and do not fear me, says the Lord of hosts.”

God doesn’t merely suggest that we be kind to strangers. He warns that our treatment of them becomes evidence of whether we truly fear Him – whether our faith is real or just religious performance.

This cuts through every comfortable theology that allows me to love God while ignoring the displaced people He places in my path. It challenges the version of Christianity that prioritizes personal blessing over sacrificial service, individual comfort over costly love.

When I thrust aside the sojourner – whether through my politics, my church choices, or simply my personal decisions about who deserves my attention – I reveal something about the depth and authenticity of my faith. I show whether I’m willing to follow Jesus beyond the safe boundaries of my comfort zones.

As a nation, we are failing this test completely.

The Practice of Uncomfortable Faith

So what does this look like practically? How do we move from comfortable Christianity to the kind of faith that welcomes strangers?

Sometimes it looks like Bishop Michael Pham and clergy in San Diego walking into immigration court on World Refugee Day. Their simple presence made all the difference – ICE agents scattered, no one was detained that day, and fearful immigrants found courage knowing they weren’t alone. As one immigration lawyer said, their client was given more time to prepare simply because people of faith showed up.

Sometimes it looks like clergy from more than 30 religious groups in Philadelphia building an interfaith altar outside the local ICE office – a symbolic reclamation of sacred space and an appeal to shared humanity. They offered to break bread with ICE agents and led attendees in song and prayer, embodying the radical hospitality Jesus calls us to practice.

Sometimes it looks like Quakers launching a 300-mile march from New York City to Washington, D.C., carrying with them a 17th-century Quaker document advocating for religious liberty and inclusivity. This demonstration continues their long tradition of activism for justice and peace, including their historical involvement in movements to end war, abolish slavery, and advocate for women’s suffrage.

Sometimes it looks like over two dozen Christian and Jewish organizations filing federal lawsuits to protect the sanctity of houses of worship, with Quaker congregations taking a leading role in arguing that allowing immigration arrests in churches violates their religious freedom and undermines their ability to practice communal worship with people from diverse backgrounds.

This is what biblical hospitality looks like in practice – not just having people over for dinner, but showing up in the places where strangers feel most vulnerable and afraid. It’s faith communities across the country recommitting to the Sanctuary Movement, responding to raids, and supporting family unity because they understand their religious duty to welcome the stranger.

It starts with acknowledging that true spiritual growth happens at the edges of our comfort, not in the center of it. The Beyond Comfort Workbook explores this reality in depth – how God uses discomfort, difficult conversations, and challenging relationships to shape us into the people He’s calling us to become.

Welcoming strangers is one of the most powerful ways to practice this kind of beyond-comfort faith because it forces us to:

Confront our assumptions. Every stranger carries stories, perspectives, and experiences that challenge our understanding of the world. When we truly welcome them – not just tolerate them, but genuinely receive them – we discover how small our worldview actually is.

Practice sacrificial love. True hospitality costs us something. It requires time, resources, emotional energy, and often the willingness to be misunderstood by others who prioritize comfort and safety over love.

Trust God’s provision. When we open our lives to strangers, we can’t control the outcome. We have to trust that God will provide what we need to love well, even when it feels risky or overwhelming.

Discover Jesus in unexpected places. The stranger we welcome may not look like the Jesus of our comfortable imagination. But if we’re willing to look with eyes of faith, we’ll find Him there.

The Stranger at Our Door

I think about the story of Abraham in Genesis 18, entertaining strangers who turned out to be angels. Abraham had no idea who these travelers were when he ran to welcome them, preparing an elaborate meal and showing them extraordinary hospitality. Only later did he discover he had been hosting messengers from God.

How many divine encounters do we miss because we’re too comfortable, too busy, or too afraid to welcome the strangers God sends our way?

The reality is sobering: current immigration policies have caused such fear that attendance at religious services has declined, with some congregations shifting to online gatherings to help families feel safer. Religious leaders report that immigrants are increasingly reluctant to access vital support services like food banks and shelters out of fear of arrest.

When houses of worship – places that should embody God’s radical welcome – become spaces people fear to enter, we’ve lost something essential about what it means to follow Jesus.

The most profound spiritual transformations often come through the people we least expect, in the moments that disrupt our carefully planned lives. The immigrant who challenges our assumptions about work and family. The refugee who shows us what real faith looks like under pressure. The undocumented neighbor who teaches us about sacrificial love.

These aren’t distractions from our spiritual journey – they are the spiritual journey.

Living the Questions

Here’s what I’m learning: we can’t love our neighbor as ourselves if we don’t know who our neighbors actually are. We can’t practice biblical hospitality if we only welcome people who make us comfortable. We can’t follow Jesus if we’re not willing to meet Him in the strangers He sends our way.

This doesn’t mean we have to have all the answers about immigration policy or refugee resettlement. It doesn’t require us to open our homes to every person in need. But it does mean we have to be willing to let our encounters with strangers change us.

It means asking uncomfortable questions: Who are the strangers in my community? What fears or prejudices keep me from seeing Christ in displaced people? How might God be calling me to practice hospitality that costs me something?

These questions don’t have easy answers, and that’s the point. The kind of faith that welcomes strangers isn’t a formula to follow – it’s a way of being in the world that requires constant discernment, ongoing courage, and the willingness to be transformed by every encounter.

The Grace We All Need

Perhaps the most beautiful thing about biblical hospitality is that it reminds us we’re all strangers in need of welcome. We’ve all experienced displacement, whether from a physical home, a community, or a version of faith that no longer fits. We all know what it feels like to need someone to see us, receive us, and make space for us when we don’t belong.

When we welcome strangers, we’re not just obeying a biblical command – we’re participating in the same grace that welcomed us when we were far from home. We’re practicing the kind of love that found us when we were lost, displaced, and dependent on mercy we didn’t deserve.

This is the heart of the gospel: God’s radical hospitality toward strangers like us. The kind of welcome that doesn’t wait for us to clean up our act, learn the right language, or prove our worthiness. The kind of love that sees Christ in the unlikely, the unwelcome, the displaced.

And when we practice this kind of hospitality ourselves, we discover something remarkable: the strangers we welcome often become the ones who welcome us into a deeper, richer, more authentic faith than we ever imagined possible.

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For a deeper exploration of how God uses discomfort to transform our faith, check out the Beyond Comfort Workbook. This resource will guide you through the process of stepping beyond the margins of comfortable Christianity and discovering the transformative power of uncomfortable faith.