Our staff Christmas party is tonight; it’s at one of my co-worker’s homes.  I’m glad it’s at a house – seems more Christian, which is probably a good thing seeing that this is a church staff.  I say “more Christian” because no one let Jesus into their house when he was being born, so it’s seems like the church should have repented of that by now and open our homes to others, especially around Christmas.  But when we let people in what do we have to offer them?  Egg nog?  I like egg nog.

When it comes to the subject of hospitality, i.e. inviting people in, those assuming the role of hosts typically think that they need to have something positive to offer their guests.  A delicious meal, opulent furnishings, lively conversation, spotless floors, professionally hung Christmas lights, perfectly mannered children donning the latest designer Christmas sweaters, egg nog (“real nice, Clark”), and things like these quickly come to mind when we consider some of our most memorable times visiting the homes of others.  We remember the impressions of certain positive offerings that Christmas parties past have made.  And many of us are consequently deterred from considerations of becoming hosts ourselves, because we know that our positive offerings can't compare with those we have received from others.  Thus, our hospitality is quenched by the fear of failing positive offerings. 

But is that where the power of hospitality lies, in the positive offerings hosts extend to their quests?  Consider the following words from Karl Barth and his commentary on the book of Romans:

A Man may be of value to another man, not because he wishes to be important, not because he possesses some inner wealth of soul, not because of something he is, but because of what he is – not.  His importance consists in his poverty, in his hopes and fears, in his waiting and hurrying, in the direction of his whole being towards what lies beyond his power.  The importance of (a Christian) is negative rather than positive.  In him a void becomes visible.  And for this reason he is something to others: he is able to share grace with them, to focus their attention, and to establish them in waiting and in adoration.

As Christians our greatest offerings to one another and to the watching world are not positive; they are not out of the reservoir of what we are or have in ourselves.  What we uniquely have to offer others that can truly change their souls is the “void” of which Barth speaks; it is the brokenness and feebleness that sin has scarred us with but which God in Christ is healing.  Our greatest offerings, most hospitable offerings to others are negative; they are what we are not.  We are not holier than they; our houses and our lives are not in spotless order; our children are not the beautiful little pixies that the pictures in our wallets display.  We just are not...what most people think us to be.  And if we let them into our homes and they see what we are not, maybe they will see who Christ is, what the gospel is. 

It is our negative offerings in hospitality that most clearly share grace with others.  When they see that fallen people like us, who were once enslaved to the insatiable egotism of sin are now those who, though not perfect, strive to serve others out of our reservoir of weakness, we will really leave an impression.  Christian hospitality is ultimately not an offering of our food, our house, our wit, our house cleaning, our horticulture, our parenting, or anything that the world too can offer, but rather our Lord Jesus, who has graciously filled the void between us and God through His life, death, and resurrection.  It is Him we offer in our hospitality.  So, bring them in and bring it on, egg nog and all.