Hospitality at its Finest

You would have thought that they had been waiting for this moment all day long. 

As soon as we arrive, they come out and meet us at the gate like a personal welcoming party. Stanislas Hien and his two oldest sons, Jonathan and Ebenezer, are dressed in their finest and shake each of our hands with a big smile on their faces. 

We slip our shoes off at the door as we continue to Stanislas; he asks about our day and we ask about his. He shows us into his house like it is his prized possession. But it's really not the house of which he is proud. The house doesn't really even belong to him. He is just proud to have us inside of it. 

This is hospitality at its finest. 

We sit on the couches and wait for Charlotte, our hostess and Stanislas' wife, who comes through the door beaming. She, too, goes to shake each of our hands and welcome us personally. She probably has three pots on the stove, but she makes it a priority to greet us first. 

When the meal has been set out, Stanislas offers a welcoming word from the host family and tells us in sweet English how thankful he is to have us in his home. My mind flashes back to my first four months in Ouagadougou when I got to eat with this family every night. I suddenly feel very much at home. 

Charlotte shows us what she has prepared - a traditional African meal with rice and cabbage sauce, to and leaf sauce, a raw vegetable salad, and calakolos (a friend banana treat). To top it all off, she made a wonderful drink called bisap, which is made from the leaves of hibiscus flowers. 

Sometimes, I like eating a big 'ole American pizza or a cheesy hamburger. But this kind of meal trumps that times a hundred and one. 

With a "Bon appetite!" everyone begins to feast. As we eat, we talk. The blend of English and French seems to melt together into one beautiful, understandable story. And as we talk, we laugh because the comaraderie and communion in the room is so strong that it manifests itself in joy. 

Charlotte makes sure that I get some calakolos becuse she knows that's my favorite. She laughs when I told everyone that the calakolos are bad and no one should eat them. When they are all gone, Stanislas notes with a laugh, "Despite your counsel, everyone has eaten all the calakolos!"

After dinner, I find a soft spot on the floor and strum my guitar as we sing a few songs in both French and English. One of the team members offers a devotional thought from James chapter 1 about having joy in suffering. Stanislas relates well to his passage and shares about his decision to go to Bible school during in time when no one in his village was a Christian. "They threatened to throw me out of the village and exclude me from the community if I chose the Christian path, but I knew that I had to follow the call of God," he says. "Even when they picked up sticks to beat me, I had joy in my heart." 

I don't know many people that would stand up against an entire village. We are silenced and awed by his story and the smile on his face when he shares it. After his decision, God brought salvation to his village, and today it hosts the largest Dagara Christian church. 

To close the evening of fellowship, we pray together and say goodnight. At the gate, Stanislas pulls me aside and tells me, "I am continuing to pray for you." And I know he means it. 

That is hospitality at its finest. 

I always heard that Africans are a hospitable people, but I didn't truly understand what that meant until I came here. In my mind, hospitality meant cleaning the house, getting all stressed out, and everyone having to unusually be on their best behavior for our company. It was fun, but forced and somehow a little fake. 

That's not what hospitality looks like here. Hospitality doesn't necessarily involve getting everything ready and the house in order. It's not about impressing people, but rather just being with people. 

It's not a special occasion to have people over; in fact, it's an everyday event. It's what friends do. You barge in on others people's lives and live life with them on a daily basis. You don't have to be invited, you just show up. And no matter what, you are always welcomed with wide open arms. 

Hospitalit here doesn't mean you have to entertain your guests. You just sit together, talk together, and enjoy each other's presence and conversation. 

That is hospitality at its finest. 

That kind of hospitality leaves you with a sweet taste on your lips and a sweet song in your heart. It's a warm feeling that springs up from inside, and it's a feeling that keeps me awake at night as I lay in bed and smile while thinking about the Hiens. 

It reminds me in some small way of the hospitality of God, who invites us into his home as adopted sons and daughters to feast at his table and come snuggle up next to him in his living room. He invites us to be a part of his life, a part of his mission, and he makes us feel welcomed, loved, and valued in his kingdom. I want to extend that same hospitality to others, not to impress and entertain them, but rather to love them and live life in community with them so that they, too, may come to experience the grand hospitality of God.