I recently read the story of a man named Paul who decided, along with his wife and adult son, that they should take in a refugee family from Ukraine. Paul’s wife had vast experience with eastern European music, and she and Paul had a guest house situated right behind their own home. Between her expertise and their extra space, this seemed like a great way for them to use their resources to help others. 

Not long after making the decision, a translator arrived at the door with a Ukrainian family of four. Anne Lamott described the family as “shell-shocked.” Unfortunately, a plumbing problem in the guest house meant that for the night, everyone would have to sleep under the same roof. In the morning and after the plumbing was fixed, Paul showed the family the guest house and showed them how everything worked, but rather than stay there, they followed him back to the main house. They just didn’t want to be left alone.

Paul reached out to the translator and asked, “Could you please let the family know that they are welcome to the guest house?” The translator responded by telling Paul, the family didn’t want to be left alone to think about the horrible things they had seen back at home. They felt safe with Paul and they wanted to be close to him and his wife.

The home was not very big, but Paul and his wife began cooking meals with the Ukrainian family. The youngest child from Ukraine enrolled in school and began rapidly learning English, which helped communication between Paul and the guest family. Paul tried to be patient, but he was really missing his privacy and quiet evenings. He wrestled and played games with the children and tried to be as welcoming as he could, but he was struggling with how all of this was turning out.

Once, when Paul’s tension was about to get the better of him, his wife started singing a Ukrainian song she knew. The Ukrainian wife knew the song too, and soon they were singing together. Whenever life would become chaotic as the two families shared one home, Paul’s wife would sing. Soon the home was filled with the peace of the music.

In all, there were six Ukrainian families in Paul’s town. They decided to get together with another one of the families, a family that happened to have really good English as well. They translated for Paul, who wanted to make sure his guest family knew they were welcome to the whole guest house if they wanted it. It turns out, his guests had understood the whole time they were welcome to the space. They said, “Ask if it would be okay if we stayed with them a little bit longer. We’ll go out there if they want us to, but we really like staying with them.” The comfort of being in a home with two people who cared about them was what they needed, not just a place to stay. Paul thought he would be giving of his extra resources, but it turned out what was really needed was his presence. The way Paul witnessed to sacrificial love was to lay his own comfort down.

This week, we are beginning a sermon series for the season of Eastertide. We are calling this series “You Will Be My Witnesses.” In this series, we will explore the many ways we are called upon to be witnesses–some ways we might expect, and other ways that might take us by surprise. In the early church, when Jesus called them to be his witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth, this quite often looked like sharing the story of Jesus with people for the first time. Sometimes that is what it will look like for us, too. But I suspect many times we will be called to be witnesses to people who have already heard the name of Jesus, and may even be suspicious or skeptical that the gospel has anything positive for their lives. In today’s world, being called to be a witness may look like words, but just as often if not more so, we will be called to show our witness through the way we live our lives.

Today, we are exploring the witness of sacrificial love. In our Scripture passages for this week, we encounter the theme of God as Shepherd. We heard about the way God shepherds us with love in the call to worship from Psalm 23, and we heard Jesus describe himself as the Good Shepherd in John 10. Even though our text from 1 John doesn’t explicitly talk about a shepherd, it still embraces the same theme: the theme of a love that sacrifices. As it says in verse 16: “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.” 

This example is most apparent in Jesus’s literal laying down of his life for us–his death on the cross, and his resurrection on the third day. But Jesus laid down his life for us in many other ways. He left the comfort of his home to preach on the road, even though that meant he had no place to lay his head. He relied on the hospitality of strangers, and he was kicked out of towns by people who thought he had the wrong idea about God. He healed people even when he was exhausted. He was questioned time and again by religious leaders who didn’t seem to get it. He tried to get away to recuperate and rest, only to have people find him who needed more from him–and he gave them what they needed most.

So, how do we begin to show this kind of sacrificial love? In our passages for this morning, I see at least two ways, but I’m certain there are many more. Two ways we can begin to show the sacrificial love of Christ to others are: first, to care about people, and second, to share what we have. 

First, we are called to care about people. This might seem so basic and simple, but it is one of the most difficult things for us to truly live out. Why is this so difficult? I think there are a variety of reasons. We might be so consumed with what’s going on in our own lives that we don’t even see what’s going on for other people. Some of the people in our lives might look at the world very differently from the way we do–maybe even in ways that make us angry or defensive. It’s hard to think about someone else when we are having a reaction to what they are saying. And, some of us might have expectations of ourselves or others that get in the way. For example, I grew up in a home that was immaculate at all times. My mom is an expert housekeeper, and she loves cleaning so much she often picks up jobs cleaning for other people. She is organized and thrifty and lives into the Scout motto of always being prepared. If anyone drops by her house unexpectedly, she is almost certain to have cookies or zucchini bread in the freezer to pull out for just such an occasion.

I, on the other hand, did not inherit her cleaning gene. Don’t get me wrong, my house is sanitary, but there’s clutter on many of the flat surfaces. At the end of a long day and after shuttling teens to their various activities, the last thing on my mind is mopping the floor or dusting the mini blinds. As a result, when Jeff and I were first married, I was too ashamed of my house to even think about inviting anyone over. It turns out, I’m not alone in this. 

In an article about hospitality, Rosie Colosi wrote this: “Every time I find out that someone is going to even potentially lay their eyeballs on the inside of my house, I erupt into a full-blown panic. I clean the bathroom surfaces, dump the dishes in the dishwasher, assess our food and beverage situation, shove all miscellaneous items into closets or junk drawers, and yell at my family to not touch anything until company arrives. Basically, I try to make it look like nobody lives in our house.” It was like seeing myself in a mirror.

When we lived in Iowa, I made a new friend at the local rec center. We would meet outside the center and jog together. One day, she invited us to come have homemade muffins at her house after our run. She said, “I’m just going to get this out of the way right now. I don’t particularly enjoy house cleaning, and I’m not very good at it. My house isn’t spotless, but you’re welcome to come over.” I admired that so much, and I found that because of her hospitality, I didn’t even linger long on the dirty dishes in her sink, or the clutter on the kitchen table. She didn’t let her untidiness keep her from showing love to others. She wasn’t afraid to show “scruffy hospitality.”

What’s getting in your way when it comes to caring for others? Maybe it is guilt or shame that you don’t measure up–a little bit like I’m afraid of what people will think of my housekeeping skills. Or, maybe it’s something completely different. Maybe you grew up in a home that didn’t really reach beyond their walls much, and you never learned how to reach out to others. Or, maybe you have reached out to others in the past and been burned by it. Or, maybe you try to care in one way, when what someone really needs is something else you aren’t sure you’re ready to give–like Paul with his guest house, who ended up sharing the main house instead.

One way we show sacrificial love is to care about the people God places in front of us. Another way is to share what we have. Dorothy Day, journalist and Roman Catholic changemaker, once said, “The best thing to do with the best things in life is to give them away,” and she lived that out. During the Great Depression, she always had a pot of coffee going and a pot of soup on the stove. Anyone who stopped by would be given food and something to drink, and soon she had a steady stream of people coming to her door. She didn’t have a lot to spare, but she felt called to do something with what she did have. 

Often, when I think about showing sacrificial love, I think about people who make the ultimate sacrifice. And, this is something that sometimes we are called upon to do. But, on a daily basis, we are still called to sacrificial love in smaller ways. In 1 John 3, verse 17 says this, “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” or, as it says in the Message paraphrase: “If you see some brother or sister in need and have the means to do something about it but turn a cold shoulder and do nothing, what happens to God’s love? It disappears. And you made it disappear.”

God’s boundless love is made known as we care about others–as we see them through God’s eyes, and remember that they are made in God’s image. God’s sacrificial love is also found as we share of what we have. This week, I invite you to consider what is preventing you from caring about the people God places in your path. Ask God to give you the eyes to see those hindrances. And then, be open to sharing. As we do this, we will be witnesses to God who spared nothing for us.

As we close, I want to share with you a poem by Rumi called “The Guest House:”

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.