Working in the kitchen of a private school was like stepping into a culinary world tour. We had students from every corner of the globe, and with them came a calendar packed with every holiday you can imagine, some I’d never even heard of. At first, this meant a lot of extra work, cooking dishes I’d never seen, let alone eaten. I’m not going to lie; in the beginning, it felt like a headache. Learning how to make a random dish from some far-off country felt like more trouble than it was worth.

But then something changed. I started connecting with the students. These weren’t just recipes, they were pieces of home for kids who were oceans away from everything familiar. The more I got to know them, the more I realized how much it meant for them to have even a taste of what they’d left behind. Cooking those special dishes became less of a chore and more of a privilege, especially when I saw how much joy it brought them. A bite of home could chase away the homesickness, even if just for a moment.

Fast forward to when I got into the hotel industry. I started working with exchange programs like TN and J1, which bring young adults from around the world to experience hospitality in the U.S. If you think those students at the school missed home, these interns had it even rougher. Most of them landed here with nothing, no family, no support system, just a suitcase and a dream.

Remembering those moments from the school kitchen, I made it a habit to look out for them. Anytime I saw one of the interns looking down or struggling, I’d whip up a meal from their home country and hand them a plate. It didn’t take much on my end, just a little research and effort, but the reactions were always worth it.

I’ll never forget one intern from the Middle East. He’d been having a tough time adjusting, and as luck would have it, we had a Middle Eastern-themed meal coming up. I made it my mission to get it right, down to the tiniest detail full on GO BIG OR GO HOME. When I handed him the plate, his reaction floored me. He looked up from the food with tears streaming down his face, whispering, “Thank you” over and over. Then he asked me, “When did you go to the Middle East to learn how to cook this?”

I laughed and told him I’d never been there; I’d just done my homework. His response broke me. He said he’d been deeply homesick and that this meal was the first time he’d felt any real happiness since coming to America.

For me, it was just another day in the kitchen, but for him, it was everything. It reminded me that food isn’t just food, it’s comfort, it’s connection, and sometimes, it’s the bridge that helps someone feel a little less alone.

In Joshua 10, we witness a truly epic moment that could easily double as the climax of a blockbuster movie: God pulls off the ultimate act of hospitality by stopping the sun in the sky. Yes, you heard that right! This isn’t just a cool magic trick; it’s a divine intervention that reshapes our understanding of hospitality, support, and God’s provision. Grab your popcorn; we’re diving into the drama!

Picture this: the Israelites are locked in battle against the Amorites, a coalition of five kings who aren’t exactly sending friendship bracelets. The stakes are sky-high, and Joshua, with all the boldness of a leader who knows Who’s got his back, raises his voice to the heavens. He commands the sun to stand still over Gibeon and the moon to freeze in the Valley of Aijalon (Joshua 10:12-14). Talk about shooting your shot!

And God’s response? Forgive the phrase… “Hold my beer!” In a move that defies the laws of physics and time, He stops the sun in its tracks, giving the Israelites the extra daylight they need to secure victory. This isn’t just about flexing divine power; it’s about rolling out the cosmic red carpet for His people. God’s gesture is as grand as it gets, showing His love and care in a way that leaves no room for doubt. I am going to touch quickly on this. Think of what kind of relationship with God Joshua had for him to ask this and God to say sure without hesitation. Remember hospitality is all about relationships, building and deepening. Our gestures of hospitality never lessen as relationships grow. Having a relationship with someone does not give freedom to phone it in.

By hitting the cosmic pause button, God doesn’t just give the Israelites a tactical advantage; He provides protection and ensures their success. This act of divine hospitality underscores a crucial point: true hospitality goes beyond meeting immediate needs. It’s about creating opportunities, offering support, and ensuring those you serve feel secure and valued. God’s act isn’t just grand for the sake of grandeur; it’s purposeful, intentional, and deeply loving.

For God, stopping the sun is no big deal. He’s the Creator, after all. But for the Israelites in the heat of battle, it’s monumental. This reminds us that hospitality isn’t about how grand an act seems to us; it’s about how impactful it is to the person we’re serving. What feels like a small gesture to us might mean the world to someone else.

Sometimes, we are called to do big things for others, whether it’s easy for us or not. We serve a large and grand God, and our acts of love and hospitality should reflect His greatness. There will be moments when stepping up might stretch us or push us out of our comfort zones, but that’s part of the sacrifice of worship to God. When we go beyond what feels comfortable to show His love, we mirror His heart for others. After all, our willingness to serve in big and bold ways demonstrates the same care and hospitality that God shows us daily.

God’s intervention shows that real hospitality is about stepping in when someone needs a hand, or in this case, a little more sunshine. Just as He extended the day for the Israelites, we’re called to extend our resources, time, and love to those in need. Maybe it’s lending a listening ear, helping a neighbor with groceries, or offering words of encouragement. Whatever the act, true hospitality recognizes the need and meets it with open hands.

Stopping the sun? That’s next-level hospitality. It challenges us to go beyond the bare minimum and embrace the extraordinary. Sometimes, this means stepping out of our comfort zones, making sacrifices, or doing something unexpected to make others feel valued. Hospitality isn’t just about opening your door; it’s about opening your heart and going the extra mile, or ten. Go big or go home when it comes to hospitality.

Joshua’s bold request shows the power of asking for help and being heard. God listened and responded in a way that was both specific and profound. In our own acts of hospitality, we’re called to listen carefully to those we serve. Are they stressed, lonely, or struggling? By tuning in to their needs and responding with intention, we can offer the kind of support that truly matters.

God didn’t just stop the sun for the sake of a spectacle; He did it to give His people what they needed to succeed in a grand way. Similarly, our hospitality should aim to empower and uplift others. Whether it’s through mentorship, sharing resources, or simply being a source of encouragement, we can create spaces where others feel supported and able to thrive. In that we should be grand too.

The halting of the sun in Joshua 10 isn’t just a cool biblical trivia fact; it’s a powerful testament to God’s hospitality and His commitment to His people. It shows us that hospitality isn’t about the size of the gesture, it’s about the heart behind it. Whether it’s preparing a feast for friends, offering a kind word, or stepping in with grand gestures when the moment calls for it, hospitality is about showing love and care in ways that resonate deeply with those we serve. In that we should always do it to the best of our ability and beyond.

So, let’s take a page from this divine action movie scene and reflect God’s heart in our interactions. Let’s be generous, attentive, and willing to go all out. Because sometimes, holding the sun in the sky is exactly what’s needed to make someone’s day or, in this case, their battle. And while we may not have cosmic powers, we can certainly create moments of impact that feel just as grand to those we serve.

Stay Salty Friends.