Hospitality that leaves a mark and draws others to Christ

They say, “Never meet your heroes; you’ll only be disappointed.” That rule must apply even more when you are a devout Catholic, and your hero is a Protestant pastor. Nevertheless, I, the Catholic, ignored that advice. I sent an email, hoping it would result in meeting one of my heroes.

It did. And the experience changed me.

The story begins in 2010. I, like many Catholics, rejected my faith in college. After three years of living like an atheist, I experienced a life-changing encounter with Christ in the Protestant church. During that time, I began listening to sermons from a well-known pastor outside of Dallas. The way he communicated the core gospel message completely changed my worldview. His words sowed a seed that eventually blossomed, leading me back to the Catholic Church and into full-time ministry. Over the years, however, I’ve continued to listen to his preaching.

Fast forward to 2023. I was working for Walking with Purpose, a Catholic women’s Bible study organization. I had just finished co-authoring the Bible Study, Passionate Discipleship, and was headed to Dallas to film some supplemental videos. As I planned my trip, I stared at my email. Should I reach out? I’m a Catholic. They might think I’m going to Hell. But I’m not, as far as I know. Oh well, just reach out.

I found the church’s generic email address and wrote something like, “My name is Mallory. I am a Catholic. This church has made a massive difference in my understanding of the gospel. I have written one book and three Bible studies. I would love to come by and give you my writing in gratitude for all you have done for me.” Expecting nothing in return, I hit send.

Less than five minutes later, my inbox dinged. Someone emailed me back. The woman in charge of the info email thanked me for my kind words and offered to meet me for coffee. What began as a coffee invitation turned into much more.

When I landed at the Dallas airport, the woman picked me up. We grabbed some lattes and headed to the church for an unforgettable few hours. Arriving at an impressive complex, she gave me a tour and introduced me to the staff theologians. They had read my book, Rekindled (basically my story of leaving Protestantism), ahead of time and sat with me to discuss it.

As we sipped our coffee, they respectfully asked me about my return to Catholicism as they thoughtfully listened to my story. I met the pastor, who was as energetic and kind as he seemed. We spoke briefly about raising children and unity among Christians, as I sheepishly gave him my books with a thank-you note for him and his wife. The afternoon ended, and my outrageously generous hostess brought me to my hotel.

Alone in my hotel room, I sat stunned. The people I just met had gone above and beyond for me. They owed me nothing. I am not famous. I am not Protestant. I don’t live in Texas. I would never become a church member or donate to their causes. Yet, they showered me with unforgettable hospitality. They didn’t meet me with contrived kindness, obligatory generosity, or annoying positivity. Their disposition was genuine.

It seemed that this level of charity was part of their standard operating procedure—how they treat everyone who darkens their doors. It was benevolence-driven and filled with obedience to God. If God meets each of us with an extravagant love that transforms, how can we not meet others with the same?

Christian churches regularly strategize on how to achieve this level of welcome, yet, in my experience, few—Catholic or Protestant—achieve it. This church nailed it. I felt it, and I hope our Catholic parishes can become known for a similar extravagant welcome.

You may be reading this and thinking of a similar experience you had at a Catholic Church. Catholic parishes regularly meet the needs of their parishioners with kindness. However, in the cultural imagination, this seems to be more of an exception than a rule. We are more typically known for being cold, closed-off, and insider-oriented.

For example, before I went on my lovely afternoon, I was on the phone with a fellow Catholic. I expressed nervousness about my visit, and she joked that a Protestant reaching out to a Catholic parish would have nothing to worry about because “we would have never answered the email.”

There is a well-known stereotype of the crotchety old ladies at the back of the Church who could do violence with their rosary beads. Similarly, we’ve all heard of the person who has sat in the same pew for many years and will stare down anyone who unwittingly tries to take it. There was even an X account named “Susan from the Parish Council.” Her persona was that of a “Karen” of the local parish, who was over-involved and challenging to work with. These are somewhat comical stereotypes that might be familiar to those reading this article. And while we may never know the spiritual good that old ladies saying their rosaries may have wrought within our world, the church I visited would never, even satirically, have any sort of reputation like the above examples.

People come to know Christ because of the influence of a person; they also walk away from Christ because of the influence of a person, and there are too many stories of people leaving the Church because of a bad experience with those who represent it.

I once met a college student who walked into the Catholic church on campus looking for answers to his sincere questions. When no one acknowledged his presence, he left and began to search for answers in the mind-altering chemicals of psychedelics. I have also heard the story of a young man who tragically lost his wife to cancer. Few in his local parish offered him support in his grief. He turned to the more consoling arms of a local Protestant church down the street. He has now been away from the sacraments for the balance of his adult life.

Of course, anecdotal stories don’t represent the entirety of Catholic parish life, and many pastors and their teams have worked diligently to make their community a vibrant expression of Christian hospitality. Nevertheless, these stories are far more common than they should be.

Catholicism is the most beautiful faith in existence. It holds the fullness of the Truth for which every human heart was made. Jesus Christ, the center of the universe and history, is its King. Its Scriptures revive the soul. Its sacraments offer endless avenues of God’s grace into our lives. Its ancient paths lead to abundant life that we long for so deeply. And yet, people are missing out on the endless depth offered to them because of simple, inhospitable interactions at their local parish.

There are understandable reasons for this, such as clerical shortages, resource constraints, and years of bureaucratic build-up, making interactions with the parish cumbersome and clunky. But the Gospel demands that we treat each other as if Christ Himself were present. While not every factor is in our control, I’d like to examine two reasons why we may not live up to the lofty goals our Lord has set before us.

The first is cynicism.

The world and the Church are filled with broken people who act like hypocrites, cause scandal, and harm others. The natural response is to become a cynic. Over time, we begin to harbor a distrustful attitude toward others, marked by a sense of disillusionment, sarcasm, and bitterness. We often mask our jadedness as realism or pragmatism, but its fruits reveal its nature. Cynical people are frequently defensive, cold, and matter-of-fact. How often do we go about our lives nursing cynical hearts? We become unable to embody the fruits of the Spirit, like love, peace, and patience, because attitudes that resemble phrases like why bother and things will never change cover our worldview with a negative lens. Left unchecked, cynicism becomes the bitter weed that chokes our ability to exude genuine hospitality, joy, and generosity.

The second trait is hurry.

We live in a world that believes implementing the right systems and mastering rigorous disciplines will lead to maximum productivity. This is a lie, but it has made us think that we can get much more done in a day than is possible. This cultural problem, combined with a lack of resources, leads many to feel the pressure of constant productivity. We end up running at an unsustainable, frenetic pace. This cancer has infected the church as well. Busyness has become such a normal state of life that we have no idea how to slow down. And if we do, we feel like we are failing.

The problem is that a constant state of hurry acts as a barrier to God’s slow, steady work on a soul. John Mark Comer, author of “The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry,” said, “hurry is a form of violence against the soul.”¹He also said that becoming more loving, patient, and kind is impossible if we are always rushed. Fact-checking this statement in my own life, I can verify its truth. I get most angry with my husband or kids when I am most in a hurry.

So here is the question: are we so busy in our daily lives, church, and parish offices that we can no longer stop long enough to love well? Love takes time. It gets in our way and messes up our calendars. Serving other people is inconvenient, and there is just not enough time for disruption in today’s world.

So what’s the solution? It’s always the same. It’s repenting and believing the Gospel is true, and it’s more important than our grievances or to-do lists.

All too often, many of us get bored by the Gospel. We’ve been doing the Catholic thing for so long that we forget how desperately we need a savior. We stop recalling the many ways God has saved us from the destruction of our own sinful hearts and choices. His magnificence stops wowing us, and we get comfortable enough in our spiritual journey to stop moving forward.

Yet the God of the universe longs to shake us out of our complacency and remind us that Christianity is a continual invitation to turn away from sin and grab hold of abundant life. It’s the best news in the world. The more we remember it with fresh eyes, the more we humble ourselves and turn to God, and the more He transforms our hearts into hearts that resemble His divine nature. This is the only way to guard ourselves against cynicism in a disappointing and disordered world. It is the only way to slow down long enough to live well in a world that bows to the tyranny of the urgent. This is the way to tap into the cultural changes needed to shed our reputation for being unwelcoming and inhospitable as we become men and women who exude the Gospel everywhere we go and slow down long enough to possibly walk someone right into the arms of Jesus.

Hebrews 13:2 reminds us, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” Maybe it is angels, but it could also be future saints who stumble into your path, looking for something more than this world can give. May their experience with you resemble my afternoon at the Protestant church.

What we need now is a kind of hospitality that leaves a mark. It changes people and draws them ever closer to the One who makes that kind of love possible in the first place. This is the reputation meant for the Catholic Church, and you, wherever you are, can do as much as anyone to change it.

(Editor’s note: This essay was published originally on the “What We Need Now” site and is republished here with kind permission.)

Endnote:
¹ John Mark Comer, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry (Colorado: Waterbrook, 2019), 47.