We humans have a real gift for looking past a full plate just to envy what’s on someone else’s table.

Back when I was a kid growing up in my dad’s church up in Vermont, I remember a season when some of the elders got real fired up about the idea of building a brand-new church building, out by the country club. We actually owned a piece of land out there, tucked up on a hillside in the woods. Seemed like a good investment at the time, but looking back, it felt more like a dream of escape than a call to plant deeper roots.

Now don’t get me wrong, these were good folks with good intentions. They weren’t trying to build a palace. They just thought a fresh building in a “nicer” part of town might help the church grow. You know, better curb appeal, cleaner lines, maybe a lobby big enough to host a real coffee hour without bumping elbows over the donut table.

But I’ll never forget one meeting where my dad, sat back, looked around the room, and gently said, “I’m just not sure we’re supposed to hide the church in the woods when there’s still so much to do right here in the neighborhood”.

Because that’s the thing: our current church building wasn’t much to look at, but it sat right in the heart of the community. You could walk out the front door and see real need in every direction. Families struggling to get by, teenagers who are looking for a place to belong, senior citizens who’d sit on the front steps just to hear another voice other than their own.

And yet, we were this close to moving out to a hilltop where the church would’ve been nearly invisible, physically and spiritually. Out of sight, out of reach. A beautiful building, sure. But far from the very people who needed the gospel most. A castle on a hill protected from the ones who needed it most.

They were so focused on what we could build that they almost missed what God had already built right around us: a mission field. A ministry. A neighborhood full of people we were uniquely positioned to love.

It’s funny….. no….. actually it’s tragic, how often do we get so wrapped up in what we don’t have, we forget to rejoice in what we do? We start eyeing someone else’s plate and miss the feast God’s already set before us. And in doing so, not only do we fail to show hospitality to others, we miss a big opportunity to show hospitality to God Himself.

Yeah, you heard me right, God deserves our hospitality too.

Not because He needs it, but because gratitude is a form of spiritual and emotional hospitality. And when we forget to give thanks for what He’s already done, we’re basically shutting the door in His face while we run around asking for more stuff. Like, “Hey Lord, thanks for all that… but I saw what You gave Steve, and uh… I’ll have what he’s having.”

Picture this: 1 Samuel 8  Israel’s gathered like a frustrated HOA meeting, and they tell Samuel, “We want a king like all the other nations.” Translation: We don’t want to be different anymore. We’re tired of trusting what we can’t see. We want something flashy. Something now. Something else.

Never mind that God had literally walked them through the wilderness, fought their battles, and fed them with food that rained from the sky. That divine hospitality wasn’t enough, they were fixated on what they didn’t have, and it blinded them to what they did.

Sound familiar?

God’s response is heartbreaking. He tells Samuel, “They’re not rejecting you. They’re rejecting Me.” But even then, He listens. He honors their choice, even though He lays out, plain as day, what it’s gonna cost them. That’s hospitality, too. Giving someone the freedom to choose while loving them enough to warn them.

And let’s not miss Samuel here. The man doesn’t sugarcoat a thing. He gives them the whole bitter pill: taxes, sons drafted into war, daughters put to labor, land seized. He’s transparent. Honest. That’s a key part of hospitality leadership. Hospitality doesn’t mean giving people everything they ask for, it means leading with love and truth, even when it’s uncomfortable.

But the people? Still digging their heels in. They wanted to blend in more than they wanted to stand apart as God’s own.

Here’s the thing: hospitality means embracing who God called you to be, not chasing who the world says you should be. Israel had a divine identity, but they were too busy comparing themselves to the neighbors to appreciate it.

And that brings us back to gratitude. You can’t properly extend hospitality if your heart’s full of envy. You can’t welcome others when you’re always wishing you were somewhere else. You can’t host God’s presence when your soul’s too cluttered with complaints.

So here’s the challenge: take your eyes off what you wish you had and fix them on what God’s already given. Your home. Your gifts. Your people. Your calling. That’s the stuff that makes the table sacred. That’s where joy lives.

“In all things, I will have joy.” Not because everything is perfect, but because God is present. Gratitude isn’t just the cherry on top of hospitality, it’s the foundation. When we live thankful, we live hospitable. We show God He’s welcome. And we become the kind of people who welcome others the way He welcomes us.

So don’t let the “don’t haves” steal the moment. Set the table with joy. Serve up some gratitude. And let your life say, “Lord, I’m thankful, and You’re always welcome here.”

Remember, Don’t miss the feast at your own table chasing someone else’s menu

Stay Salty