Christian Hospitality

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 21, 1873

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 42, No. 19.

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Christian Hospitality.

WHEN the Spirit of Christ takes up its abode in the heart of man, it makes a complete revolution of affairs, and continues its regenerating influences until the man himself has actually become a new creature.
Now this is not all done in a minute; it is a slow work, of necessity, for there is so much to be pulled down before His temple can be built up; and the heart of man is so “deceitful,” and so “desperately wicked,” that it is not an easy matter to get it thoroughly reconstructed.
The heart that is at enmity with God is a very small, mean kind of tenement, with no room in it but for one person—self; but when Christ effects an entrance through the door, how quickly it begins to expand! First our love goes out to our own, to those of our immediate family, or our intimate acquaintances, until the circle widens and includes all humanity.
He that is the most benevolent, the most ready to disburse money for the building up of churches and the spreading of the gospel, is not always the best Christian. The paying of tithes, or the giving of alms, is not the true test of character, any more than long prayers or solemn faces imply an intimate acquaintance with spiritual things. God judges us by little things, and uses the smallest weights in his scales. What we pass over lightly, as unworthy a moment’s thought or consideration, may be the very thing required to perfect our Christian character; and a single flaw in the marble may spoil the otherwise beautiful statue.
The man who is kind and thoughtful for those with whom he has business relations, and cold, harsh, and unfeeling to his wife and little ones, cannot be truly a follower of Christ.
A symmetrical development is what we require; and the capacity to make religion so much a part of ourselves that, whatever relations of life we may occupy, we cannot avoid showing that Christ dwelleth in us.
And, if the atmosphere of our homes is rendered purer and sweeter by reason of his presence, surely his temple, the church in which we worship his name, should be purified from everything that might bring discredit to the Master whom we profess to serve. And it is to the pew-door I would bring the question of Christian hospitality, for those to answer who are “fearful to admit strangers.”
Of course you claim the privilege of occupying your own seat, the one you have hired regularly, perhaps bought and paid for, and it is not always convenient to be crowded; but, if such be the case, it is far better to acquaint the sexton with the fact, than to wound by an offensive manner the sensitive soul who timidly solicits the vacant seat in your pew.
It is these little stabs from the hands of professing Christians that make large wounds in the hearts of their brethren; and the reluctant compliance with a request that bears wholly a Christian courtesy, has not only driven away from the church those who might have added to its membership, but has actually turned them away from all thoughts of a better life.
We cannot be too careful of these things. The writer not long since entered one of our fashionable churches, and, with her friend, was directed by one of the ushers to a seat in the side aisle. Presently a lady and her daughter entered, and, the pew being large, there was still room for more. But I soon began to feel crowded in my conscience by the whisperings that ensued, no pains being taken to prevent an occasional word reaching my ear. What should I do? The whispering continued, and so did my discomfort, until I was finally moved to suggest that myself and friend should seek other quarters, taking good care to lay the blame on the usher.
“Oh, no!” said the elder lady, with a graciousness that came too late to be accepted as such, “the family owning the pew in front of us are in Europe, and the girls can sit there.”
She knew that, and yet could willingly inflict pain upon two innocent victims of her unchristian-like behavior!
We have been vexed with ourselves ever since, that we did not, without stopping to consider anything, incontinently forsake those inhospitable quarters and leave the party to their own reflections; our comfort having been entirely dissipated by their unnecessary rudeness.
Such instances are being continually multiplied, and are doing much to prevent the gathering in of the multitude. If the pew-doors are so narrow, how must it be with their hearts? It is by such little things as these that Christians are tested by the world’s people, and it behooves those who wear the livery of Christ to allow no opportunity to pass for doing his service. Surely for him who has opened Heaven for us, we can open our hearts more generously than we do, and at all times and all seasons, and in every place, “use hospitality one to another.”—Josephine Pollard.