Leadership Journal

"She doesn't play the piano," I said with a smile. "And she doesn't sing in the choir or praise team," I added quickly.

The pastor search committee had quizzed me on the role my wife would play in the church. Even though I was interviewing alone, before I left home Wendy and I had rehearsed my responses to a question we knew would be asked.

"My wife is given to hospitality," I replied with confidence. "She loves to have people into our home where they can be made to feel special."

Like an increasing number of pastors' wives, my wife does not fit the traditional mold. She is a professional woman with a teaching credential and years of experience in the work force. She has been a devoted member in every church I have pastored. But Wendy insists on involvement where she can express her interests and gifts in a natural way.

Creating an "open door policy" at the parsonage is one such way. Hospitality is a ministry we share.

One of my pastorates was in an affluent suburb. Our family of five knew our new location would challenge our budget. What we didn't realize is how much our new situation would challenge our willingness to maintain our open door policy.

Many in the congregation had six-figure incomes. Several had homes with square footage in excess of 6,000 feet. Most of their homes were professionally decorated.

And then there was ours.

Our decor is not French Country or Early American. Our furnishings are a menagerie of mismatched pieces we've collected through the years—used end tables from my parents, a sofa I'd purchased at a yard sale before Wendy and I were married, and dining room and bedroom sets we'd secured at an auction.

The thought of having people who bore Martha Stewart's seal of approval into our modest home was intimidating.

Our "uncompromising" commitment began to waver. Our passion for hospitality needed to be fanned into flame. Fortunately, a little book that impacted Wendy early in our relationship had survived the move. These principles from Open Heart, Open Home by Karen Burton Mains kept our front door open when we were about to turn the dead bolt.

Hospitality is not the same as entertaining. Entertainment, says Mains, is what we do to call attention to ourselves. It is a performance that expects applause. When we entertain, we hope people will say, "Wow!"

Hospitality, on the other hand, is helping people feel welcome in our home even though the house is not camera-ready. When we express hospitality, we hope people will say, "It sure is comfortable being here."

Wendy and I swallowed hard and invited millionaires into our humble abode, determined that what we didn't have in decor would be compensated by what we did have to offer—sincere interest in getting to know people who longed for friendship and acceptance.

Hospitality isn't "a gift" as much as it's something you give yourself to. Like evangelism, everyone is called to practice hospitality. We can't excuse ourselves by saying we don't have the gift. While it ...