I’ve seen it too many times: a man walks into a church for the first time in years, maybe ever. His heart pounds in his chest. He doesn’t know where to sit, doesn’t know if he belongs. He’s hoping, just maybe, that someone will see him. That someone will shake his hand like they mean it. That someone will pull him into a conversation, not just pass him off with a polite nod before turning back to their comfortable circle.

And then… nothing.

The moment passes. The greeter smiles, but there’s no real warmth. The congregation, so wrapped up in their routines, fail to notice the newcomer standing on the fringes. And by the time the final prayer is uttered, he’s already made up his mind: he won’t be back.

And it’s not just the first-time visitors. The lonely widow who slips in and out of the same pew every week, unseen. The single parent barely holding it together, wrangling a toddler while trying to focus on the sermon. The couple with a special needs child, exhausted and desperate for a church that actually sees them. The man wrestling with demons no one knows about. They sit there, Sunday after Sunday, slowly fading into the background.

The damage isn’t just a missed handshake or an awkward silence, it’s a missed opportunity for healing, for restoration, for salvation. We assume they’ll give the church another shot. That they’ll keep searching. That someone else will step in.

But what if they don’t?

What if that moment of indifference is all it takes for them to decide that the church, and maybe even God, has nothing for them?

Scripture gives us a picture of what it looks like when someone refuses to let a moment slip away. Boaz didn’t wait for someone else to do the right thing. He stepped in. He saw Ruth, I mean, truly saw her. In welcoming her, he changed not just her life, but the course of history. His hospitality wasn’t just a warm greeting at the gate, it was an act of redemption. An act that ultimately led to Jesus Himself.

So here’s the question: how many Boaz moments has the church missed? And how much damage has it done? If we don’t start taking hospitality seriously, not just as a duty, but as a calling; we won’t just lose church attendance. We’ll lose souls. Hospitality isn’t just a warm handshake or a smile at the door, it’s the hinge on which history turns.

Ruth 4 doesn’t give us a scene of casual kindness. No, this is high-stakes, bloodline-changing, kingdom-building hospitality. Boaz doesn’t just do the nice thing; he does the right thing, the hard thing. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t wait for someone else to step up. He sees Ruth, sees Naomi, sees the broken pieces of their lives, and he acts. He redeems. He restores. He rewrites the trajectory of their future, and in doing so, he sets the stage for the greatest redemption story the world will ever know.

Now, imagine for a moment, what if he hadn’t?

Picture this: what if Boaz had let that moment slip through his fingers? What if he had assumed someone else would take responsibility? If Boaz had walked away, there would be no King David. No royal bloodline. No Bethlehem manger. No Jesus.

One moment. One act of radical, costly, maybe even risky hospitality. And history was forever changed.

So… What’s Our Excuse?

I can’t count the times I’ve watched this happen, someone walks into church, heart pounding, wondering if they’ve made a mistake. Maybe it’s their first time. The regulars stick to their usual circles. The greeters offer a quick nod, maybe a handshake, but nothing more. No real connection. No invitation in. Maybe it’s their last shot before they give up on the whole thing. They hover near the door, scanning the room, hoping, begging, for some sign that they’re not invisible… But the moment slips away.

But what do they get? No real connection. No sense of belonging. No value. And before the final amen is even spoken, that visitor has already made up their mind: “I could have stayed home for this”.

And honestly? Who could blame them? We tell people that the church is the hands and feet of Jesus, that it’s a place of grace, love, and belonging. But if their first steps inside feel like an intrusion, like they’re outsiders in a club where everyone else already knows the rules, why would they return?

Or worse, maybe it’s a family with a special needs child, met with awkward glances instead of open arms. Maybe it’s a single parent, exhausted and frayed, who just needed someone to notice. Maybe it’s a man battling an invisible war, drowning in his own silence because no one took the time to ask.

The message they receive? You don’t belong here. You are not important enough, not worthy enough to show God’s love. And just like that, we lose them, not just from our congregation, but possibly from eternity.

The reality is, some people walk through those church doors holding on by a thread. They’ve been beaten down by life, betrayed by people who claimed to care, maybe even hurt by churches in the past. They are giving faith one last chance.

If we let the moment pass? we fail them… I am going to say it louder for the ones in the back WE FAIL THEM!

It’s not just church attendance that’s at stake. It’s souls. The tragedy of missed hospitality is that we often only get one chance. One shot at making someone feel like they’re home. One shot at proving that the love of Christ isn’t just something we talk about, it’s something we live. And yet, churches continue to fumble… nay… outright ignore this responsibility.

We assume someone else will step up. We tell ourselves they’ll come back if they’re serious about God. We let busyness, formality, or our own comfort zone excuse us from doing the very thing Christ has called us to do:

See the ones nobody else sees.

Welcome the ones nobody else welcomes.

 Love the ones nobody else loves.

Boaz didn’t help Ruth and Naomi out of obligation, he was invested in their well-being. He didn’t offer a temporary fix; he secured their future. And when he made that decision, the entire community stood behind him, blessing his actions and embracing Ruth as their own.

Hospitality Isn’t a Solo Act, It’s a Culture. It’s not just about what you do, it’s about what we do. When hospitality becomes the DNA of a church, it changes everything. It transforms the way we greet people, the way we follow up, the way we see those around us. It turns Sunday morning into more than just a service; it becomes a rescue mission.

Because real hospitality, the kind that changes lives, isn’t about coffee stations and welcome packets. It’s about making sure no one stands alone. It’s about being the kind of church where people aren’t just noticed but, known and given full access to the Love of God.

And if we’ve been failing? If we’ve been the ones letting people slip through the cracks? Then we repent. And we start again. But how do we do better?

 Be Present. Stop focusing on the program and looking past the people. Ask God to open your eyes to those who need you.

 Follow Up. Missed an opportunity? Fix it. A simple call, message, or invitation can change everything.

Create a Culture of Hospitality. When welcoming the stranger becomes everyone’s job, no one gets left behind.

What If We Miss the Moment? What unseen damage might we have done?

Ruth and Boaz’s story didn’t just impact them. It left a legacy; one that would ripple through generations, leading straight to the feet of Christ. The same can be true of us.

Maybe we don’t see the full impact of our hospitality right away. Maybe it’s just a handshake, a conversation, a seat saved for someone who isn’t sure they belong. But God sees. And when we choose to act, to step in, to redeem, to welcome, to restore, we just might be shaping something far bigger than we could ever imagine.

One moment can make all the difference.

One moment can change a life.

One moment can echo through eternity.

So, church…don’t miss the moment.

In the end, the stakes couldn’t be higher. Every Sunday, people walk into our churches, often carrying burdens we can’t see, struggles we can’t fathom. They’re looking for something real, something they can hold onto. And we get one shot, one moment, to either show them the love of Christ or let them slip through the cracks.

It’s easy to get caught up in the program, the bulletins, the order of service, the comfortable circles we’ve already formed, but the truth is, the eternal destinies of people hang in the balance. What we do or don’t do in those fleeting moments has the power to either plant seeds of hope… or push someone further into isolation and despair.

We can’t afford to ignore these moments. We can’t afford to let someone leave church thinking that they don’t matter, that they’re not welcome, or that the love of Jesus stops at our comfortable pews. Hospitality is not a mere formality, it’s a mission. It’s our responsibility to make sure that no one… no one walks through those doors and leaves feeling unseen, unloved, or unwelcome.

Remember Boaz, he didn’t wait for someone else to act. He didn’t let the moment slip away. He stepped in, took responsibility, and changed history. And when we take that same radical, life-changing hospitality seriously, we, too, might find ourselves part of a legacy far bigger than we could ever imagine.

So, church, let’s not miss the moment. Let’s make sure every person who walks through those doors feels seen, valued, and loved. Let’s be the hands and feet of Christ in a way that echoes for generations. Because the truth is, we don’t just want to fill pews, we want to fill heaven.

One moment can change a life. One moment can change the world. Don’t let it pass by.

Stay Salty