AfterWords | Reflections from Sunday’s Gathering on January 19

Welcome to My Classroom
by Amy Balogh

As a teenager, I dreamed of having the house where all the neighborhood kids loved to hang out. I would provide homemade cookies and a listening ear. In fact, I was sure God would have me marry a youth minister, and I envisioned many Friday nights with kids hanging out in our living room, eating spaghetti, watching movies, and feeling loved.

Instead, I have remained single and live in a fairly small townhouse. Usually, whenever the topic of hospitality comes up, I think of all the ways these dreams did not come true, but more and more, like Sunday at church, I am reminded of how God has fulfilled the heart of my dreams—just in a way I didn’t expect, as He frequently does.

While I only occasionally have kids hanging out in my home, five days a week I look around my classroom and realize it has become that longed-for hangout space. Each morning, within minutes of opening the door, my room is filled with students. Some are there just hanging out with their friends or studying, but every morning there are kids surrounding my desk talking to me about their lives. Former students stop by to say hello, and several bring in their friends who have never even been in my class, but whom I have “adopted.”

I’ve taught ESOL at Chattahoochee High School for too many years to count. I have the privilege of being a safe place for students coming from all sorts of circumstances. I get to be their “mom” at school, looking out for them, guiding them, encouraging them, and sometimes fussing at them. I work hard each year to create a family atmosphere in my classes, getting to know my students and making sure they are seen. I get to be a conduit of God’s love to them.

A couple of years ago, on the Monday after Easter, a sweet student shared with me that she had been baptized on Easter Sunday. I remember that moment because it was like God said, “Look around the room.” As I looked, I realized most of the kids in that class were Christians. Many were my Korean kids, whom I knew were active in their churches. I also had a Japanese student who I knew went to Perimeter and was one of my FCA officers, as well as an Egyptian student who went to the Coptic Orthodox Church in Roswell, with whom I’d had many conversations about God. God showed me that I had my own little youth group right there in my classroom.

Last semester, on the day of a school threat on social media, several students asked me for passes to come to my room during the time designated in the threat. I got out the board game Taboo as a distraction, and we played and laughed together. It didn’t occur to me until later that day, since we were all pretending to not be scared: Oh, they truly felt safe with me.

One of the greatest joys has been learning to embrace the community God has placed me in, instead of wishing my life looked differently. I have made a practice of saying yes when my students ask me to come to their chorus concerts, band performances, soccer games, and musicals. What a joy to cheer them on, often alongside their actual parents. As a result, I’ve also been invited to their quinceaneras, graduation parties, and even weddings. I’ve been one with whom they’ve shared their greatest joys and deepest sorrows.

I walked into church on Sunday morning with a heavy heart. One of my former students came into my classroom on Wednesday afternoon saying, “Ms. B., I have something to tell you.” My face brightened as I was expecting her to tell me that she had been accepted to one of the colleges to which she had applied. “It’s actually something sad,” she replied, and she began to share that her father had died over the break in a terrible accident. “You are the only teacher I’ve told. I wanted you to know.”

This was the same girl who had told me about her baptism. Because I had invested in her life, she trusts me to walk alongside her in her deepest moment of pain.

I loved the message on Sunday morning that hospitality can take on many forms. If we keep our eyes and hearts open, we can find countless ways to make connections. To be a safe place for others. To be an encouragement. To embody God’s love for others. It could be in your neighborhood, your job, or wherever you find yourself today. Participate in the joy of opening your heart and life to another.

Holy Hospitality
by Marian Schiff

I almost didn’t go to church this past Sunday. The day before had been very difficult for me, for various reasons. The bright new technicolor faith I had found just last spring was fading to gray. Yet something told me I needed to be at The Parish that day. 

Although initially disappointed that Jordan wasn’t there, my excitement grew when I found out that the service would be a panel interview of four well-loved congregants who host a house church. They spoke of hospitality… the biblical kind, that Jesus referred to when he commanded us to love our neighbors as ourselves. 

We all know that Bible verse– love your neighbor as yourself. We can all recite it. Even those of other faiths know it. The golden rule. But until this past Sunday, I don’t think I really saw clearly what that might look like. 

These four wonderful people showed a heart-dwelling hospitality borne of the Spirit. The hospitality of Jesus leaves no one out. Not one. The only rules for attendance at His Feast are an open heart and faith the size of a mustard seed. I felt my own heart fill with joy as I inhaled the wisdom of the Lord. 

God’s invitation to share His welcome beckoned, but one thought seemed to stand in the way: am I too broken to show true biblical hospitality? Do I need to be “fixed” first? After all, I am an imperfect collection of idiosyncrasies, irrational fears, health troubles and past traumas. And I live with my fellow imperfect humans, in a broken world where people suffer daily. One of the points made on Sunday was that loneliness and illness are at all-time highs. I look around and see that sin has sprouted like a weed and infiltrated nearly every single piece of our society in this 21st century world. And because of that, I am broken. 

But then it dawned on me: that isn’t the end of the story. Our story. Our neighbors’ stories. Strangers’ stories. Even those we vehemently disagree with on matters of morality, their stories aren’t finished either. God isn’t finished with any of us yet. 

The nugget of truth that shone through my wall of shame and fear was that we can be broken, and simultaneously live in the way of Jesus freely expressing Holy Hospitality.  

My broken soul yearns for this nourishing hospitality every day. Yes, I am a work in progress–but as I understand it, God wants us to share his kingdom now, without delay. 

As I walked back to my car in the cold, damp winter air, my hope in the humanity God created us to be was renewed. My faith in the possibility of the world Jesus spoke of, with His children welcoming all to the feast at His table, was suddenly alive again in rich bright technicolor.

Be Secret Ambassadors
by Jane Borozan

Wouldn’t you love to be a secret ambassador “in an act of defiance against the dark night?!” Jeff, Katherine, Luke, and Laura laid out a more beautiful way to live, to love, and to bring the Kingdom of Heaven to earth. I know. I have experienced their loving hospitality as a part of the North Milton House Church. As I listened, I felt my heart melting, wrapped in a soothing balm.

As I heard again the statistics on loneliness in our culture, something boldly rose up in me declaring: “It doesn’t have to be this way!” We do not have to look far to see the reality of this truth: we see people everywhere, looking down, engaged with their phones, or frenzied busy. Sometimes I see the hollowed-out look in the eyes of those I love so dearly, and it breaks me. I wonder, what can I do for just one person each day that I would want someone to do for my beloveds? What can I do that would speak love and worth to precious humans who are more than just a loneliness statistic?

Hospitality is a gift everyone can give in some form. Luke reminded us, “hospitality is portable.” It is a way of seeing, a posture of the heart. The core of our seeing is deeply rooted since the beginning in the overflowing, intimate, never-ending love of our Trinitarian God who made us in their image. This Trinitarian community of Love gives dignity and worth to every human being because we are made like them. Each human being is irreplaceably precious. To look upon someone with compassionate, kind eyes (Luke’s example), to notice the people we encounter in our daily interactions with genuine interest and kindness, to really see and not look past or down, to warmly smile at the precious human beings God places before us in our day are simple, profound ways we can practice living the Way of Jesus.

When I saw the invitation Katherine sent to their dinner guests, the words, “You Are Invited” leapt off the card and landed in my heart. Who wouldn’t want to receive an invitation, “You are Invited”? As humans made in the image of our loving Trinitarian community, we long to be seen, heard, known, and loved whether we are aware of our need or not. I believe we can each engage in extending this gift to others as we are able, and as an act of defiance against the darkness of this plague. Jeff reminded us that it doesn’t have to be fancy.

I have learned so much from Thelma, one of our beautiful caregivers for my mom, a PhD student at Western Michigan University. Thelma left the warm, temperate climate of her South African homeland to brave the inhospitable Michigan winters in pursuit of her goal. She shares with me some of the enormous adjustments she has had to make to American culture, chief of which has been experiencing our rugged individualism. Starting with eating. Even their simple practice of eating a meal together is radically different from how we eat. It made me wonder, how can we invite, connect and eat together with others, in ways that are life-giving? I have seen magical things happen around the table where all are welcome, no matter who you are or what you carry. People feel connected, gladdened, valued, and made a little more whole when love, acceptance, and compassionate curiosity are served.

In the Gospels, I see Jesus engaged with the marginalized, the “nobodies” of society: the Samaritan woman at the well, Matthew, Zaccheus, the woman with the bleeding issue. The disciples Jesus chose were not elite scholars or churchy, but rather, a ragamuffin band of young Jewish guys. I love that about Jesus. He seeks out the least. He meets us where we are. Who are the marginalized in my world? I see:
The anxious, the angry, the arrogant
The lonely, the languishing, the least
The difficult, the depressed, the doubting
The put together, the put down, the poor

In the final toast at the dinner they hosted, Laura’s invitation to the catering staff to be a part, deeply moved me. In an atmosphere of loving acceptance, one person had an opportunity to express deep sorrow and be held in a community of love. She was seen and loved. What a gift! No matter how put together someone may look, we do not know what people are carrying.
All are welcome at the table. Here’s to being a secret ambassador of hospitality!