Freely I have received: the grace of 150 nights of hospitality

Three years ago, I started a new job with Hope into Action, a Christian charity providing homes for people who have been homeless, based in Peterborough.

There are always anxieties in taking on a new job, but one main concern I had was geographic: the charity is based nowhere near where I live in south London. I knew I needed to spend at least 2 days a week in the office, but wanted to avoid spending too much time and money on trains or using soulless hotels.

Kindness and generosity

And the solution to this challenge has come through the kindness of people who 3 years ago were complete strangers to me.

A couple who live in Peterborough, Clive and Florence (pictured above), have opened their home to me every single Tuesday night for the last 3 years. They have given me their spare room and a delicious meal every week so that I can stay over close to Hope into Action’s base.

Their welcome and trust was illustrated by the first time I ever met them when they handed me a set of their house keys so that I could stay even when they were not there. And the days since they have now given me over 150 nights of hospitality.

Incredible blessing

Clive and Florence’s generosity has made a massive difference to my life over these three years. The job has been demanding and they have given me far more than just a place to stay or food for my body: their friendship has nourished my mind and soul too.

We have enjoyed hundreds of hours of discussing books, films, theology and politics. They have lent me some great books, such as Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl and take this bread by Sara Miles.

We have agreed on many matters and disagreed on some too. And in everything, they have shared great wisdom through their rich life experiences in business, church life and spiritual direction. They have become great friends and I will always cherish the hours spent at their home.

Lifetime of commitment

Clive and Florence’s decision to open their home and trust me with their key has not come out of nowhere. It was a choice rooted in a lifetime of prayerful Christian commitment through the local church and in countless acts of service in their local community.

Before we eat, their practice is to hold hands across the table as they ‘say grace’. But this act embodies a grace that goes beyond words or religious habit: it distils what I experience every Tuesday: fellowship, generosity and gratitude to God.

Tangible grace

Grace – God’s free, unearned gift of kindness, forgiveness and love is at the heart of Christian faith. But this grace cannot be reduced to doctrine, theology or atonement theory alone. It is most powerful when its embodied: felt, seen, experienced, tasted.

These tangible forms of grace are a true blessing and can equip us to bless others. This is the ‘cascade of grace’ that Jesus spoke to his disciples about in Matthew 10:8:

“Freely you have received, freely give.”

This challenge is the heart of Christian discipleship: how do we respond to God’s grace?

A Sabbath meal

One of the books Clive and Florence and I have read and discussed this year is Practising the Way by John Mark Comer. It is a book that has had an enduring impact on my life, especially around hospitality and Sabbath.

After we did the Practising the Way course at our church, my wife and I realised that since covid we had pretty much stopped inviting people over for dinner. So in September we started hosting a Sabbath meal for a varied group of local people every Friday evening.

The format is simple: we use a set liturgy (shared below) to briefly pause, reflect and pray at the end of the week, before we enjoy a meal together. Some Fridays we have had 3 guests and sometimes as many as 11, but either way these evenings have been a great blessing. They have turned us outwards, reduced our selfishness, built community and have deepened our relationships.

Sharing food

Sara Miles’ book take this bread is a brilliant spiritual memoir of her journey from atheism to faith and is all centred on the act of taking of communion and sharing food with others.

Like what I have experienced at Clive and Florence’s on a Tuesday and at my home on a Friday, she describes beautifully how the embodied grace of eating and sharing food in community reflects the way of Jesus. She writes this prayer for the volunteers at the Food Pantry she sets up at her church:

‘O God of abundance, you feed us every day.
Rise in us now, make us into your bread,
That we may share your gifts with a hungry world,
And join in love all people, through
Jesus Christ our Lord.’

I know this prayer has been true for me.

Freely, I have received from the God of grace. In response, may I freely give.

This is the liturgy we use every Friday evening at our Sabbath meal:

Welcoming the Sabbath liturgy, Sept 25 Download

Discover more from Grace + Truth

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

1 thought on “Freely I have received: the grace of 150 nights of hospitality”

Jon

Thanks for a very moving post about the grace of hospitality – it called to mind similar experiences that our daughter Annie, who died of natural causes in 2020, shared with us – see my blog about Annie here: https://gracetruth.blog/2022/02/15/dont-just-live-the-length-of-life-live-the-breadth-of-it-as-well-by-anne-oconnor/

After she graduated from Sheffield University Annie stayed on as the Catholic Chaplaincy Assistant for a year. Her role included putting on talks, overseeing the day-to-day running of the house and ensuring that the Chaplaincy was a friendly, welcoming place, especially for new students. Many of these were from overseas and would be spending the holidays on their own so Annie and another former student cooked a meal on Christmas Day to help them feel less homesick. She would then come home to join the rest of our family for a late lunch. One year, she told us that an elderly man had seen the lights on in the building and came in. No one pointed out that the meal was just for students. He was invited in, made welcome and had a great time.

Some years later, Annie took a course in Christian Counselling – it was run over several weekends and too far from her home to travel, so she booked into a nearby B&B. Chatting with others over coffee at the end of the first evening, a couple who she had only just met said, ‘you must stay with us next time.’ From then on, she was welcomed into their home, shared a meal with them before the meeting and enjoyed fellowship with people she had never known before.

Sharing a meal, praying with others and discussing faith together became a key part of Annie’s life and ministry, chatting to people in Sheffield city centre as part of a small Christian outreach team or inviting passers-by into St Marie’s Cathedral for the Night Fever evenings to enjoy a warm drink, a chat and a prayer if they wished, or leading a small group for an Alpha course at her local church.

It’s in these times of sharing – hospitality, welcome, quality time, listening to and offering friendship to others – that relationships develop and flourish. I was reminded of this on New Year’s Eve when Annie’s close friend Rachael phoned to wish us a Happy New Year. We were reminiscing and Rachael spoke with great fondness of the student home where Annie continued to live after becoming a teacher. The house was well situated for student bars and local shops so was a convenient drop-in but, we agreed, what made it so well-loved was the welcoming atmosphere, sitting around the kitchen table, the kettle always on and plenty of time for a friendly chat and a bite to eat.

Our previous parish was led by a charismatic and dedicated priest. His homilies were thoughtful and frequently linked to current affairs. He wasn’t afraid to speak the truth and was an ardent champion of human rights, especially for the underdog. Hospitality was a key feature of his ministry, with the parish house thrown open on many occasions for gatherings and celebrations that lasted long into the night. At one New Year party I found myself in conversation with a single woman who often came to events at our church although she lived a few miles away. She said, ‘you have a wonderful priest.’ I thought she was going to mention his learning or perhaps his commitment to social justice but, no, her comment surprised me. She said, ‘he always gives you a cup of tea.’ To this day that has stuck with me: how much a simple act of hospitality can mean to a lonely person who has no one at home to talk over the day with.

Keeping it simple is key – there’s no need for extravagant gestures – what matters most is giving the gift of time and undivided, non-judgemental attention. In the nativity story we often downplay the role of the innkeeper. He wasn’t able to provide a room with a cosy bed and a hot meal but he offered what was in his power to give – shelter in a stable with straw for warmth.

A young couple I met at a neighbour’s house-warming told me they were spending Christmas Day at a homeless shelter as they have no family in this country. He is Peruvian, very friendly and outgoing, so was asked to greet people as they arrived to make them feel welcome. His wife is a dentist from Iran who volunteered to give basic dental care – an inspiring story of people reaching out to others and breaking down barriers across nations and cultures.

A friend sent me this – passed on from another, source unknown: ‘Happy New Year. We don’t know what you will bring – and how deeply we need one another. I wish you moments of happiness, especially the quieter kind, and enough presence, patience, and kindness to hold whatever pain or uncertainty the year carries. Go gently.’

Anne O’Connor

LikeLike

anneoc980 says:

January 4, 2026 at 5:43 pm

Jon

Thanks for a very moving post about the grace of hospitality – it called to mind similar experiences that our daughter Annie, who died of natural causes in 2020, shared with us – see my blog about Annie here: https://gracetruth.blog/2022/02/15/dont-just-live-the-length-of-life-live-the-breadth-of-it-as-well-by-anne-oconnor/

After she graduated from Sheffield University Annie stayed on as the Catholic Chaplaincy Assistant for a year. Her role included putting on talks, overseeing the day-to-day running of the house and ensuring that the Chaplaincy was a friendly, welcoming place, especially for new students. Many of these were from overseas and would be spending the holidays on their own so Annie and another former student cooked a meal on Christmas Day to help them feel less homesick. She would then come home to join the rest of our family for a late lunch. One year, she told us that an elderly man had seen the lights on in the building and came in. No one pointed out that the meal was just for students. He was invited in, made welcome and had a great time.

Some years later, Annie took a course in Christian Counselling – it was run over several weekends and too far from her home to travel, so she booked into a nearby B&B. Chatting with others over coffee at the end of the first evening, a couple who she had only just met said, ‘you must stay with us next time.’ From then on, she was welcomed into their home, shared a meal with them before the meeting and enjoyed fellowship with people she had never known before.

Sharing a meal, praying with others and discussing faith together became a key part of Annie’s life and ministry, chatting to people in Sheffield city centre as part of a small Christian outreach team or inviting passers-by into St Marie’s Cathedral for the Night Fever evenings to enjoy a warm drink, a chat and a prayer if they wished, or leading a small group for an Alpha course at her local church.

It’s in these times of sharing – hospitality, welcome, quality time, listening to and offering friendship to others – that relationships develop and flourish. I was reminded of this on New Year’s Eve when Annie’s close friend Rachael phoned to wish us a Happy New Year. We were reminiscing and Rachael spoke with great fondness of the student home where Annie continued to live after becoming a teacher. The house was well situated for student bars and local shops so was a convenient drop-in but, we agreed, what made it so well-loved was the welcoming atmosphere, sitting around the kitchen table, the kettle always on and plenty of time for a friendly chat and a bite to eat.

Our previous parish was led by a charismatic and dedicated priest. His homilies were thoughtful and frequently linked to current affairs. He wasn’t afraid to speak the truth and was an ardent champion of human rights, especially for the underdog. Hospitality was a key feature of his ministry, with the parish house thrown open on many occasions for gatherings and celebrations that lasted long into the night. At one New Year party I found myself in conversation with a single woman who often came to events at our church although she lived a few miles away. She said, ‘you have a wonderful priest.’ I thought she was going to mention his learning or perhaps his commitment to social justice but, no, her comment surprised me. She said, ‘he always gives you a cup of tea.’ To this day that has stuck with me: how much a simple act of hospitality can mean to a lonely person who has no one at home to talk over the day with.

Keeping it simple is key – there’s no need for extravagant gestures – what matters most is giving the gift of time and undivided, non-judgemental attention. In the nativity story we often downplay the role of the innkeeper. He wasn’t able to provide a room with a cosy bed and a hot meal but he offered what was in his power to give – shelter in a stable with straw for warmth.

A young couple I met at a neighbour’s house-warming told me they were spending Christmas Day at a homeless shelter as they have no family in this country. He is Peruvian, very friendly and outgoing, so was asked to greet people as they arrived to make them feel welcome. His wife is a dentist from Iran who volunteered to give basic dental care – an inspiring story of people reaching out to others and breaking down barriers across nations and cultures.

A friend sent me this – passed on from another, source unknown: ‘Happy New Year. We don’t know what you will bring – and how deeply we need one another. I wish you moments of happiness, especially the quieter kind, and enough presence, patience, and kindness to hold whatever pain or uncertainty the year carries. Go gently.’

Anne O’Connor

LikeLike