If you ask any of my siblings what our mom’s favorite Bible verse is, they won’t hesitate:

“Rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft!” (1 Samuel 15:23)

She didn’t just quote it, she declared it. Usually while wielding a wooden spoon or side-eyeing the school work that hadn’t been done. One time she caught me mid-Game Boy and hollered, Andrew Gantt…. Like I was practicing voodoo in the kitchen!

We’d laugh, well, later we would, but looking back, Mama wasn’t just being dramatic. She was preaching truth.

At the time, I didn’t get it. I thought she was just being extra. But as I grew up and started digging into Scripture myself, I began to see what she meant: disobedience isn’t just bad behavior, it’s a spiritual breach.

Every act of rebellion cuts us off from God’s presence. It’s like speaking a curse over your own life. Disobedience binds us up, tangles our spirit, and blocks God’s blessing, not just for us, but for those around us too.

That’s when it hit me: you can’t offer real hospitality if you’re walking in disobedience.

Hospitality isn’t just about setting a table or smiling at church visitors, it’s about hosting the presence of God. And God doesn’t make Himself at home in hearts that are knowingly out of alignment with Him. You can cook a five-star meal and still serve spiritual poison if your life is built on compromise.

Obedience is the first step in making room, for God, for healing, for others.

And that’s what Mama was trying to teach us, in her bold, kitchen-table-prophet way. She knew that obedience wasn’t about control, it was about freedom. About walking in step with God so that your life could become a refuge for others.

So yeah, Mama had a flair for the dramatic. But she wasn’t wrong.

Disobedience invites bondage.

Repentance breaks the curse.

And obedience? That’s the most radical kind of hospitality there is.

Let’s be honest: if there was a Yelp page for obedience, most of us would have it bookmarked… but only visit it when we’re in trouble. It’s not flashy. Doesn’t serve brunch. And if we’re really keeping it real, it often doesn’t feel all that hospitable. But dig deep into 1 Samuel 15, and you’ll see that obedience might just be the holiest form of hospitality we’ve been sleeping on.

Yeah, you read that right. Obedience = hospitality. Stick with me.

So, God gives King Saul some very specific instructions: wipe out the Amalekites. All of them. Don’t spare the livestock, the king, the gold-plated camel saddles, nothing. It’s judgment time. Now, on the surface, that doesn’t exactly sound like a warm welcome or a potluck. But spiritually? It’s a divine RSVP.

Picture This: God was inviting Saul to participate in His justice, His will, His plan. He wasn’t just giving a military order, He was extending the kind of invitation that comes with trust. “Come walk with Me. Let’s clean up this mess together. Trust Me enough to obey Me even when it doesn’t make perfect sense to you.”

And what does Saul do?

He shows up with a plus-one: disobedience.

Now before we pile on Saul too hard, let’s admit it, we’ve all RSVP’d “yes” to God and then showed up with our own agenda. Saul’s not some cartoon villain; he’s painfully relatable. He partially obeys. Spares King Agag. Keeps the choicest livestock. Then shrugs and says, “I was gonna sacrifice it all to the Lord. You know, like…worship.”

It’s like bringing a pizza to a dinner party where the host already made a full spread, then claiming you did it to be helpful, when really, you just didn’t trust their cooking.

Samuel isn’t impressed. God’s not buying it. And here’s why: God doesn’t need our sacrifices if our hearts aren’t in alignment. In fact, Samuel drops one of the most gut-punching lines in all of Scripture:

“To obey is better than sacrifice.” (1 Samuel 15:22)

Oof. There it is. Obedience is the offering. It’s not just about doing the right things. It’s about offering ourselves in trust. Obedience is saying, “God, I’m yours. I’ll do it your way, even if I don’t get it.”

That’s hospitality. That’s inviting God to reign in our hearts, not just visit occasionally like He’s some in-law we’re trying to impress with casserole and surface-level conversation.

Here’s where it gets deeper. Saul wasn’t just leading himself, he was king. What he did, others followed. When he disobeyed, the whole community bore the cost. His failure to obey God wasn’t just a personal trip-up; it was a breach of communal hospitality.

Let that sink in.

When leaders stray, they risk taking the flock with them. That’s why real biblical hospitality isn’t just about setting a pretty table or having good church coffee, it’s about being spiritually trustworthy. Hospitality means creating space, in ourselves and in our communities, where God is honored and people are safe to grow.

Saul created confusion. He made space for compromise, not conviction.

And Samuel, God bless him, was the one who had to walk in and clean up. He confronts Saul, and it’s not because he enjoys rebuking people. It’s because he’s looking out for Israel. His confrontation is hospitality too. It’s the kind that says, “I love you enough to not let you keep going the wrong way.”

That kind of accountability is sacred. It’s costly. It’s real. And we desperately need it in our churches, families, and friendships today.

Here’s the hard truth about hospitality: sometimes it looks like grace, and sometimes it looks like consequences. Saul loses the kingdom. Samuel is grieved. God is heartbroken.

But it’s not petty punishment, it’s discipline. Discipline is God’s way of realigning the space so it can be truly hospitable again. When someone keeps wrecking the vibe of the house, bringing in idols, bad theology, unchecked pride, eventually, for the good of the whole community, God says, “That’s enough.”

We don’t like that part. We want hospitality to always be hugs and casseroles. But biblical hospitality protects what’s holy. It protects the integrity of the house.

You can’t have a truly welcoming home if the foundation is crumbling from ignored disobedience.

Now, here’s the part I love: even after the fallout, Samuel still shows up. He mourns. He grieves. He continues to walk with Saul longer than I probably would’ve. That’s hospitality too. The kind that doesn’t ghost people when they fail.

Even when restoration isn’t possible in the role (Saul never gets the kingdom back), the relationship still matters. Samuel’s care for Saul, his prayers, his tears, is the kind of hospitality that says, “I won’t turn my back on you, even when you’ve messed up royally.”

In your own life, you may be called to extend that kind of grace. You may also need to receive it.

That’s the kind of hospitality that runs deeper than potlucks and greeters at the door. That’s the gospel in action.

Here’s what 1 Samuel 15 teaches us about hospitality:

Obedience is the ultimate hospitality to God. It says, “I trust You. I make room for Your will in my life, even when it’s uncomfortable or unclear.”

Leadership carries weight. What you model matters. If you’re leading a team, a church, a family, or just your own household, your obedience (or lack of it) makes a ripple.

Accountability is hospitality. Don’t underestimate the spiritual power of correction when it’s wrapped in love.

Intentions matter. God isn’t impressed by our religious theater. He wants our hearts, not just our performances.

Hospitality includes consequences, but never abandons grace. Boundaries protect what’s holy. Grace restores what’s broken.

So the next time you think about hospitality, don’t just picture tea and cookies or greeters in matching shirts.

Picture someone who obeys God even when it costs. Picture someone who speaks truth in love to a brother off-track. Picture someone who welcomes God’s correction because they know His presence is better than their pride.

That’s hospitality too.

And if we can start living that out, we won’t just be a welcoming church, we’ll be a kingdom-minded people, hosting the presence of God in everything we do.

So maybe next time someone quotes “Rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft,” you won’t just think of a wooden spoon and Mama’s raised eyebrow, you’ll think of hospitality. Real hospitality. The kind that starts not with casseroles or coffee bars, but with a heart fully surrendered to God.

Obedience isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t trend. But it opens the door wide for God to move in and rearrange the furniture of our lives. It sets the atmosphere for others to encounter Him through us. And when we live that way, when we live like obedience is sacred, we don’t just host the presence of God, we honor it.

So let’s be people who obey quickly, repent humbly, and lead with hearts aligned to God’s will. Not just because Mama said so (though that alone was usually enough to get us in line), but because God deserves a house, our hearts, our homes, our churches, that’s ready for Him.

Hospitality begins at the threshold of obedience. And when we open that door, everything changes.

Now excuse me while I go do some dishes and cook dinner before I accidentally curse myself.

Again.

Stay Salty