Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers,
for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.
Hebrews 13:2
Riding a bike is one of my not favorite things. Being outside on a hot July day is another of my not favorite things. Along with sweating, being windblown, sleeping in a tent, and using a port-a-potty. So when the Des Moines Register announced that our town would be an overnight stop along the July 2011 Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa (RAGBRAI), I was underwhelmed. In fact, my exact thoughts ran along the lines of Oh great, there will be 30,000+ crazy people in our town overnight, followed by If I lie low, maybe I can avoid contact with them.
My strategy worked perfectly until two weeks before the big day, when a neighbor asked if any RAGBRAI riders were staying with us. If not, four friends of their friends were looking for a place to spend the night. Were we interested? Suddenly, the first answer that came to mind – No, we’re not interested in having strangers crazy enough to ride their bikes across Iowa in the middle of July stay at our house! – sounded a little inhospitable.
Then I thought about all the families who have invited me to stay at their homes when I travel for speaking engagements. Maybe traveling around the country is one of their not favorite things. Maybe speaking to groups of strangers is another of their not favorite things. Along with hauling boxes from here to there, selling books, and wondering if there’s a booger hanging out of your nose.
Maybe they think I’m crazy. Even so, they open their homes to me. We begin the evening as strangers, but then we start talking and discover common acquaintances, common interests, common heartaches, and common joys. They may still think I’m crazy when we say good-bye, yet they send me off with a hug and a prayer. Surely, after being on the receiving end of so much hospitality, it was time for me to offer some, instead.
Sure, I told my neighbor, send them this way. Turned out, our four house guests were hot, sweaty, windblown, hungry, and tired. But the Davenport natives – a high school English teacher, a school development office worker, and a mental health counselor – and the IT guy from Australia weren’t as crazy as I’d thought. They were young people grateful for comfortable beds, hot showers, home cooking, and conversation in air conditioned comfort.
Hiram and I waved good-bye to our guests the next morning. And I wondered why I’d been reluctant to share God’s riches with strangers in our town, why I had almost disobeyed his command, why I hadn’t trusted his promise in Hebrews 13:2.
Crazy. I shook my head. Crazy how hosting bike-riding strangers has become one of my favorite things.
