By now, if you’ve been around long enough, you know that in 2022, my family and I packed up our lives and moved to the Savannah area. Why? Well, because we felt like God was leading us here, and when God gives you marching orders, you march; even if you’re not entirely sure what battle you’re walking into.

Back in Vermont, we were surrounded by a fortress of support. Both my family and my wife’s family were just a short drive away, meaning if we ever hit a rough patch, car trouble, sick kids, or just a desperate need for a date night; help was only a phone call away. We had people. We had backup. We had reinforcements ready to swoop in at a moment’s notice. Then we moved, And suddenly, that safety net? Gone.

Now, don’t get me wrong, we could still call our families. But let’s be real: a phone call doesn’t babysit your kids, jumpstart your dead car battery, or help when you’re sick and just need someone to bring you a bowl of soup that wasn’t made by DoorDash. For the first time in our lives, we had no one to lean on but each other, and God.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. We found a church. Nice folks. Welcoming. You know, all the things a church should be. And let’s be real: if there’s anywhere on earth you should be able to find community, it’s in a church, right? Well, that was the theory, anyway. Reality? A little different.

It didn’t take long before we realized that while there were moments of kindness, they often felt… transactional. Like a favor bank, where withdrawals came with a hidden interest rate. And the few connections we made? The moment we left that church; they evaporated like a mirage in the desert. Tryin’ to get ahold of them was like trying’ to catch smoke with your bare hands; frustrating and ultimately pointless. Let me tell you, there were nights…long, quiet, soul-searching nights, where I sat in my living room, staring at the ceiling, wondering if we had completely misheard God when He called us here.

Had we made a mistake? Had we stepped out in faith only to end up stranded? Were we just stubbornly hanging on, hoping for a miracle that wasn’t coming?

Let me tell you, when you don’t have a safety net, when your support system is ripped away, it exposes every insecurity, every doubt, every fear you’ve ever shoved into the back of your mind. And in that place, you have two choices: you either break under the weight of it, or you realize that God was always supposed to be your support system in the first place.

See, here’s the thing: we lost a lot when we moved down here. But what we gained? Oh, man. That’s where the real story begins. Because when you don’t have a backup plan, you start relying on God like never before. Let me tell you, He shows up.

 In our lack, we gained something so much greater. We gained a deeper trust in God’s provision. We gained an unshakable faith that when people fail us, and they will; God never does. We gained an understanding that hospitality isn’t just a nice word churches throw around; it’s a command. A way of life. A call to action.

Because here’s the truth: there are people out there right now feeling exactly how we felt. Isolated. Unseen. Unsupported. And you know what? That means it’s our turn to be the hands and feet of God. When someone needs help, we step in. When someone is struggling, we don’t just say, “I’ll pray for you, we do something. When someone is drowning, we don’t sit on the shore and offer “thoughts and prayers.” We jump in and pull them out.

Because that’s what real hospitality is. It’s not just potlucks and friendly Sunday morning handshakes; it’s sacrifice. It’s action. It’s showing up for people, even when it’s inconvenient, even when there’s nothing in it for us. So yeah, losing our safety net was hard. It stretched us. It broke us in some way. But it also rebuilt us into something stronger. And if that’s what it took for us to finally get it? Then I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

In Judges 8, hospitality takes a wild twist, showcasing community support, or the epic lack thereof, and dishing out lessons on resilience, persistence, and the importance of rallying behind those who are trying to save the day. Gideon’s mission to track down the Midianite kings turns into a masterclass in how hospitality can sometimes mean rolling up your sleeves and helping those who are fighting the good fight.

Alright, picture this: Gideon and his crew are running on fumes, chasing down the Midianite kings, and desperately in need of a snack break. They roll into Succoth and Peniel, hoping for some much-needed hospitality, maybe a loaf of bread, a cup of water, something to keep them going. But what do they get? A giant, resounding NOPE!

These towns take one look at Gideon and his hungry, battle-weary men and decide they’d rather not get involved. Why? Because they’re scared. Scared that if Gideon doesn’t win this fight, the Midianites will come back and make them regret handing over a single crumb (Judges 8:4-9). So instead of stepping up and supporting Israel’s own warriors, they play it safe, cross their arms, and pretend they don’t see a bunch of exhausted men about to collapse.

Now, let’s pause for a second. Imagine you’re watching a superhero movie, and right before the final battle, the hero swings by a town asking for help, you know, maybe a protein bar or a bottle of water. And instead of rallying behind him, the townspeople just shrug and go, “Ehh, we’ll help if you win.” That’s Succoth and Peniel for you. Way to miss the point, right?

This whole scene is a perfect example of how true hospitality isn’t just about convenience. Sometimes, it takes courage. It means being willing to support someone even when there’s risk involved. The people of Succoth and Peniel weren’t willing to take that risk, and because of that, they let fear override faith.

Now, despite being ghosted by his own people, Gideon doesn’t let it stop him. He keeps pushing forward with the kind of determination that would make even the most stubborn chef proud. No supplies? No problem. No backup? He’ll figure it out. And sure enough, despite running on empty, Gideon and his men track down the Midianite kings and win (Judges 8:10-12).

This is where we see another side of hospitality, it’s not just about handing out sandwiches. It’s about showing up when it counts. Gideon leads by example, proving that even when support is scarce, you keep fighting the good fight. Because sometimes, hospitality isn’t about receiving, it’s about pressing forward so you can be the one to extend it later.

This kind of endurance is something we all need to remember. There will be times in life when people won’t come through for us. When the help we should get isn’t there. And in those moments, we must ask ourselves: Do we give up, or do we keep pushing? Gideon shows us that perseverance, even in the face of abandonment, can lead to victory.

Of course, once Gideon wins, he circles back to have a little conversation with the leaders of Succoth and Peniel (Judges 8:15-17). And by conversation, I mean he teaches them a pretty unforgettable lesson about the cost of refusing to help your own people.

At first glance, Gideon’s response might seem a little harsh. But when you think about it, he’s making a point about communal responsibility. These towns thought they were playing it safe by sitting on the sidelines, but they were just hurting their own people. Their refusal to help didn’t just affect Gideon; it affected all of Israel.

It’s kind of like when a neighbor asks for help building a fence, and you say, “Nah, I’m good,” only to wake up the next day and find your yard overrun with stray cats, raccoons, and possibly an angry possum. When we don’t pitch in, when we don’t step up, we’re not just hurting one person, we’re weakening the whole community.

Despite the lack of support from his own people, Gideon’s story is a powerful reminder that when human hospitality fails, God’s never does.

While Succoth and Peniel let fear dictate their actions, God remained steady. He didn’t withhold His support. He didn’t hesitate. He provided strength, victory, and resilience, everything Gideon needed to finish the mission. And that’s the kind of hospitality we can always rely on.

It’s easy to get discouraged when people don’t show up for us the way they should. When friends flake, when help doesn’t come, when we feel like we’re fighting a battle alone; it stings. But Judges 8 reminds us that even when people drop the ball, God doesn’t. He’s always there, always providing, always equipping us to move forward.

And because of that, we have a responsibility to be that kind of hospitality for others. To be the ones who do step up. Who do take the risk. Who do offer the bread, the water, the helping hand, even when it’s inconvenient.

Because at the end of the day, hospitality isn’t just about food; it’s about building a community that isn’t afraid to take care of its own.

So let’s be the kind of people who offer the bread. Who take the risk. Who trust that even when things look uncertain, supporting those who are fighting the good fight is always worth it. And hey, if that means handing out some sandwiches along the way, even better.

At the end of the day, hospitality isn’t about playing it safe. It’s not about waiting until the victory is guaranteed before we step up. It’s about seeing someone in the fight and saying, “I’ve got you,” even when it costs us something. Succoth and Peniel got it wrong, but we don’t have to. We get to be the people who show up. Who feed the weary. Who stand beside the ones pushing forward, even when the odds look impossible. Because that’s what God does for us, time and time again. He doesn’t wait until we have it all together to provide. He doesn’t hold back His goodness until we’ve ‘earned’ it. He gives freely, abundantly, without hesitation. And if that’s the standard He sets, then that’s the one we should follow. So let’s be the kind of people who don’t just talk about hospitality, we live it. We step up, we serve, and we trust that even when the safety net is gone, God’s provision never runs out.

Stay Salty