January 12, 2026 | by Julie Ruegsegger
Each November, as the old year wanes and the new draws near, I have a task both daunting and delightful—crafting a request for our church’s annual prayer book.
Our church gathers the prayers of its people into a compendium for use in personal and corporate times around the throne of grace. For many years, my requests were honorable, but not particularly measurable. A few years ago, I decided to get specific. I asked for prayer that I would grow in hospitality and be intentional about creating opportunities to open my heart and home to others.
Bagels and Boxes
I have long been intrigued about this idea of hospitality—of, as Paul wrote to the Thessalonians, sharing not only the gospel, but our very lives (1 Thess. 2:8). In our increasingly sequestered culture, this has become more of a challenge. Opening our hearts and homes seems risky, or like too much work. It feels vulnerable.
But it seems to me that the occasions when hospitality was offered to our family under imperfect circumstances were the times we enjoyed most. It wasn’t about the menu or the party planning. It was about feeling honored, loved, and cared for.
Like the Sunday some friends invited our family of eight for lunch after church. They had just moved into a new house—unpacked boxes lined the hallway and stacks of unshelved books lay in corners of the family room. But this family welcomed us. Undaunted by the size of our crew, they served bagels and fruit on paper plates. The kids laughed and played in the yard as we adults chatted and prayed around the table.
Then there was the time in graduate school when friends invited us for… breakfast. We all had small children, and it was easiest to share an early meal, before naps and bedtime routines. This was particularly special as our friends were from Switzerland, and breakfast included homemade braided bread, cheese, and even chocolate. (Perhaps this is why the Swiss score well on happiness metrics!)
The Sweetest Gift
Last December, I received a sweet gift of hospitality. My friend Emily, a pastry chef extraordinaire, invited me to help make cookies for our church’s annual Christmas choir practice.
It was a raw and gray winter afternoon when my mom and I headed to Emily’s. Mom was visiting from out of state, navigating her first Christmas since the loss of her husband of sixty years. It was a balm to our souls to share the afternoon with Emily and her four young children, savoring sugar and sprinkles and the happy energy of little people. The sweetest picture was one my heart took—my mom reading to one of the girls who had snuggled on her lap, both bathed in the gentle light of a homespun Christmas tree.
Joyful Pursuit
What common thread weaves through these stories? Certainly not showcase homes or five-star recipes or a desire to impress. Instead, there is a joyful longing to cultivate relationships and to steward our homes in a way that builds others up, to create an atmosphere of connection.
Though some naturally excel at the gift of hospitality, it is a biblical command for us all to pursue, even the introverts and perfectionists among us. Romans 12:13 encourages us to “seek to show hospitality.” Hospitality is how strangers in our churches become friends. And it is a beautiful apologetic for the gospel to the watching world when they are invited into our homes and lives.
For me, the pursuit of hospitality began as a request in a prayer book. It is a joy to see how the Lord has honored that prayer. That year, I decided to invite others into my home at least once a month. We had guests from our church family and our neighborhood. We deepened old connections and made new ones. We shared soup and salad and holiday feasts, hosted picnics and game nights, took walks in the woods, and even had a card crafting day.
Most of all, we shared our very lives.
I have tasted the sweetness of being on both the giving and receiving ends of hospitality. Truly it is a gift either way. And I long to excel still more, to create a rhythm in my life that allows for both spontaneous and planned opportunities to open my heart and home.
About Julie Ruegsegger
Julie is a mom to six and was recently promoted to grandmother! She is married to her high school sweetheart, Steve, and they’ve attended Christ Memorial Church since moving to Vermont nearly three decades ago. Julie has gone from a reluctant transplant to a true Vermonter who enjoys hiking, skiing, and all things maple (especially creemees!).
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