Practicing Radically Ordinary Hospitality in Our Post-Christian World

Happening upon Rosaria Butterfield’s The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert this summer had been totally unintentional. Some colleague or other had recommended her as “a Christian author on LGBTQ issues,” so at least the name was familiar. My sister later proposed this second book, The Gospel Comes with a Housekey, for our Siblings’ Book Club in 2021, yet no one else had been interested enough to try it. I thought I was destined to forget about Rosaria Butterfield.

Little did I know, however, that her books would spark in me a deep interest in the topic of Christian hospitality, an interest that would send me on a months-long venture into a small library of books on the topic—and scholarly articles to boot.

After finishing Secret Thoughts (Butterfield’s memoirs of her conversion from godlessness to Christianity), I pretty quickly ordered this second book on Christian hospitality. Both books discuss Butterfied’s former life as an unbeliever, a lesbian, and a champion for LGBTQ rights, and while much of the material overlaps in the books, her focus shifts.

In Secret Thoughts, she traces her path from sheer angst towards Christianity to surprise, curiosity, and interest—ultimately ending in acceptance and repentance. Following all of that is the sudden intolerance she felt from friends in her former LGBTQ community and the acceptance she found in her new faith community.

In Housekey, she adjusts her focus. Rather than emphasizing her own thoughts and feelings about how others view and treat her, she instead focuses on her own view and treatment of others, no matter what they think and feel about her. Involving her family and church community in this selfless lifestyle, she dubs their approach “radically ordinary hospitality.” This book describes their paradigm and biblical justification, as well as candid descriptions of their victories, defeats, methods, and safeguards.

In her Preface, Butterfield describes what she means by “radically ordinary hospitality”:

Radically ordinary hospitality – those who live it see strangers as neighbors and neighbors as family of God. …Those who live out radically ordinary hospitality see their homes not as theirs at all but as God’s gift to use for the furtherance of his kingdom. …Radically ordinary hospitality means that hosts are not embarrassed to receive help, and guests know that their help is needed…Host and guest are permeable roles. (11-12)

The chapters progress through her family’s own experiences in their little NC community. Her husband is a pastor. She’s a home-school mom. The neighborhood kids (and their parents) know that their home is always open for playtime and snacks. The neighbors—even the secretive guy across the way—have open invitations to their home for dinners and front-yard BBQs. The family is avidly involved in just one social-media app, NextDoor, which keeps them in touch with people they can still see in person every day.

Peppered throughout these stories is Butterfields biblical explanations for why this lifestyle oughtn’t be as unique as it sounds, simply because this is the lifestyle which Jesus led and to which all of his followers are called. She writes of the Gospel-focused nature of such hospitality:

Here is the big difference [between her approach and the social-gospel practices of liberal churches and non-Christian mercy communities]: radically ordinary hospitality practiced by biblical Christians views struggling people as image bearers of a holy God, needing faith in Christ alone, belief in Jesus the rescuer of his people, repentance of sin, and covenant family within the church. (32-33)

One flippant attitude regarding hospitality that’s all too common among Christians is that hospitality is a minor doctrine, one that the church already handles well. “We have monthly fellowships at church, after all.” Such a misunderstanding stems from our viewing hospitality through the lens of modern-day entertaining, though, as if dinner is what it’s all about. When there’s very little exchange or depth in our occasional meals together, we’re not practicing hospitality. We’re like Martha when Jesus visited her home, busy yet disconnected.

Butterfield does well to explain true Christian hospitality, that the roles of guest and host must inevitably intermingle. Whereas she may feed a guest dinner, that same guest might share her life and story, thus hosting Butterfield in the exchange. This permeability of roles is constant theme in the books I’ve been reading, yet it’s a point that often gets overlooked. Too often, Christians are focused on the act of hosting rather than on the guest being hosted.

In her final pages, Butterfield describes the dangers of what she calls “counterfeit hospitality”:

Counterfeit hospitality can sometimes seem benign. The barista at Starbucks engages in counterfeit hospitality, but that is not sinful. The use of your extra bedroom for Airbnb is also counterfeit hospitality, and that too is not sinful. There is nothing necessarily wrong with being a barista at Starbucks or using your spare room for Air B&B. But there is something wrong with thinking that you are practicing hospitality as you get paid for these services…Counterfeit hospitality separates host and guest in ways that allow no blending of the two roles…Counterfeit hospitality creates false binaries: noble givers or needy receivers…Counterfeit hospitality comes with strings; Christian hospitality comes with strangers becoming neighbors becoming family of God and gathering in the great expectation of God’s coming world. (215-216)

This necessary distinction sets the table for her concluding thoughts on radically ordinary hospitality on pages 217-218. I wish I could transpose them here, but I fear that’d be overstepping my bounds as a reviewer. I suppose you’ll just have the read the book yourself to experience the full conviction of her theme. Much like hospitality to friends, neighbors, and strangers—it’ll be well worth your time.

©2021 E.T.