What's your hospitality mindset? Does thinking about your house keep you from opening your door? You may have thought:

"I can't do hospitality–my house is a mess! (You don't want to see it—really, you don't.)"

You may not have said this but, maybe you've thought it:

How can I invite you over? Have you seen my house?

What blocks my open-heart, open-home hospitality mindset?

My house is a mess! I'm a terrible housekeeper. I'm too embarrassed. Things are in chaos today—tomorrow isn't looking good either.

One of the biggest hindrances to hospitality is the state of our homes. By states, I don't mean Nebraska or Florida—any state will do when it comes to piles of clutter and mounds of dust bunnies. Just this morning, the California sunshine revealed my true state:  muddy puppy paws on the window, coffee rings on the table, fingerprints and smudges on the appliances, piles and papers and books (oh, my!) on most flat surfaces.

I've thought: I better do something in case you are on your way over. Or, I could pretend I'm not home when you ring the bell. But then, I might miss out on your company.

You may think: I don't want someone to see my mess and that's all there is to it. Maybe when my husband gets a raise so I can hire a housekeeper or my kids go off to school—then, then, I will have company because then I will have a non-messy house.

Does that sound like you? If even a part of it sounds like you, I can relate.

Feelings swirl like a dust bunny in heat. Feelings like:

I feel inferior to my more organized friend

I feel poor because today's budget doesn't include a fairy godmother nor her magic wand

I feel embarrassed that I "can't keep up" with no-brainer tasks like sweeping and folding

(What's wrong with me? Don't I have a BA in something and an MA in something else? Where are those diplomas, anyway? In a pile somewhere between the spray starch and the snail bait.)

Before we address what might be done about the state of our homes, let's first look at state of our hearts. God's always more interested in what's going on inside, and I don't mean the understairs closet.

When I feel all of those feels—inferior, poor, embarrassed—or even one of those feels, it helps me to check the state of my heart and ask some hard questions. I'm talking to myself here:

  • Sue – Does God love you more when your house is spotless?
  • Sue – When you do manage to clean one room or one toilet well, do you take all the credit?
  • Sue – Does someone need a cup of tea at your (messy) table more than you need a cleared table?
  • Sue – Are you too proud to let another see how you're struggling?

I told you. Hard questions. Will you put your name at the beginning of each question and read them again? It's okay to talk out loud. You can even answer yourself.
Here's how I answered:

  • No — God loves me as is.
  • Yes — I forget to thank God for any strength He's given me.
  • Yes — My friend________________needs my tea and my listening ear more than I need a clean table.
  • Yes — I'm too proud in general, and too tied to outward appearance.

 

 

 

Now I love a clean and organized home, don't get me wrong. But when I can't quite manage it, two gifts from God help me to invite, in spite of my messy home:

First, the gift of vulnerability. Allowing someone to see how I really live is a gift I give my guest. My vulnerability gives another the permission to be her real self. What a gift! You and your home may be the first invitation she's had all year to just be herself.

And when we are our real selves, that's how real conversations gets started. And real conversations are how God can be introduced to someone who doesn't know His welcoming heart.

One time a friend walked into my front door and said, "Okay, now I feel better about my house!"

I think it was a compliment. I'm not sure. But, obviously my mess made her feel better about hers. We're still friends.

Secondly, the gift of freedom. The more I open my door no matter what others may see, I receive the gift of freedom and joy. The expectations I place on myself entrap me in fear and isolation.

I don't want to live trapped. God's given me freedom to live in Him and love as He loves.

Each time I invite, anyway – no matter if there's laundry on the couch and dishes in the sink, I inch toward a released spirit; freedom to love another better because I'm no longer navel-gazing. I'm less focused on myself and more focused on my guest, which is what true hospitality is all about.

Because we live with both these gifts, our mindset can always be: "Come on over. I want you more than I want a clean house. Don't mind the dog hair. Here's a blanket. Now, how have you being doing? Do you want tea or coffee?"

The hospitality mindset claims Jesus words as truth:

"Christ has set us free to live a free life. So take your stand! Never again let anyone put a harness of slavery on you" Galatians 5:1 MSG.

Once your mind is set free, you can begin on your home. But that's only an option and not the main thing. I'm convinced that our lives are in constant tug and pull with keeping the main thing the main thing. And you know what that is: Love God, Love your neighbor. To keep your heart open to God means you keep your door open to your neighbor.

Here's a little list to help you get over the overwhelm in your home, if there's time after the surrender to God and the invitation to your neighbor. Feel free to pick your top three places or change to 5 minutes per area. Keep the main thing the main thing.

I like the loud music part, especially if the Man in Plaid isn't home from work yet. Printable available here.