The Gift of Hospitality

This first week of my renewal leave, I spent time apart on a sermon planning retreat at Alton L. Collins Retreat Center, and it was life-giving in every way. Not only did I come up with a full year of sermon ideas, I experienced the extravagant hospitality that results in rest. The staff’s hospitality was, as always, thoughtful and abundant—details were tended to with such care.

Some of my earliest and most treasured memories are from camp. I can hear my friend Dan in my ear reminding me that Collins “is a RETREAT center, not a camp.” But when I was little, and later as a youth, “time apart” always meant camp—Camp Virginia or Camp Cedar Glen in Julian, California.

Camp, for me, was never just about cabins and campfires, or silly songs and late-night conversations—though those things were wonderful. Camp was a sacred place of discovery. It was where I began to understand who I was apart from my family, and, just as importantly, where we learned how to be a family. It was the place where I realized that growth doesn’t only happen in classrooms or sanctuaries—it happens when you are welcomed into a community that sees you, values you, and gives you space to stretch into who you are becoming.

That deep sense of extravagant hospitality is what first planted the seeds of my call to ministry. I remember feeling cared for in ways I hadn’t even known I needed—whether it was through the warmth of a counselor’s encouragement, the joy of a shared meal, or the quiet beauty of a trail winding through the woods. That intentional care—so simple, yet so profound—was my first glimpse of how God’s love shows up in the world.

It’s a lesson I’ve carried with me ever since. As a pastor, I’ve come to see that hospitality isn’t only about making people comfortable; it’s about helping people know they belong. It’s about creating spaces where folks can set down the burdens they’ve been carrying, rest, and be reminded of their belovedness. That’s why I return again and again to camp and retreat spaces, even as an adult. Because the journey of self-discovery is never finished. I still need those places that remind me to breathe, to listen, and to remember who—and whose—I am.

For me, these values aren’t optional—they’re essential. They’re what guide me in ministry, in parenting, and in the way I try to move through the world. Hospitality as ministry. Growth as calling. Community as sacred gift.

And maybe you’ve felt it, too—at a camp, at a retreat, around a table at church, or with friends. That moment when you realize that what’s being offered isn’t just food, or shelter, or a seat in the circle—it’s love. It’s belonging. It’s the reminder that God is still at work in us, still shaping us, still inviting us to grow.

Because no matter our age or stage, the work of becoming is never finished. And thanks be to God for that.