Like I’ve mentioned before, I was once part of a motorcycle ministry that worked with 1% clubs. And just like in those clubs, before you earned your cut and became a full-fledged member, you had to prospect. That meant proving yourself, showing loyalty, putting in the work, and treating your fellow prospects like brothers.

There were a few of us prospecting at the same time, and one of the guys in our group had just gotten out of prison. While he was inside, he had “found God” and was now out, ready to serve the kingdom; or at least, that’s what he had us believe. Now, when you’re prospecting, these guys aren’t just people you ride with; they’re family. And I took that to heart.

So, when this guy was trying to get back on his feet, I did everything I could to help him. One way we helped was by giving his girlfriend a place to stay. He was living with our ministry president, who, being a man of conviction, wasn’t about to let them shack up in his house unmarried. My wife and I talked it over, and since we had a spare room, we decided to take her in. Our goal was simple, to be God’s hands and feet, to love on them, and to hopefully be a good influence in their lives.

And man, did we give. And give. And give. And they? They took. And took. And took.

We had agreed on a small amount of rent, but, surprise, surprise, that didn’t happen. So they said they’d work it off instead. Fine. Except the work was either half-done or done so badly it ended up costing us even more money. We ate the loss, figured it was just a rough start, and moved on. Next month? Same story. But we kept telling ourselves we were doing the right thing.

Then came the wedding. We showed up, supported them, and despite never seeing a dime of the agreed rent, we still felt like we had made the right decision in opening our home to them.

But here’s where it gets really good. After the honeymoon, they asked if her stuff could stay in the room for a couple of months while they looked for a bigger place. They even offered to pay us for storage. By now, we knew exactly how much their “offer to pay” was worth nothing. But we agreed anyway, locked up the room, and left it alone.

And that, my friends, was the last time we ever heard from them. Gone. Vanished. Poof. Like a bad magic trick. And to top it all off, when we finally went in to clean out the room, we found it trashed. Just absolute destruction.

So why am I telling you all this? Were we lied to? Yep. Was our trust broken? Oh, absolutely.

Should we have prayed a little harder before jumping in? 1000%. Do I regret it? Not even a little.

Because here’s the thing, hospitality isn’t about guaranteeing a happy ending. It’s about doing the right thing, even when people take advantage of you. Did I want to lose my mind on them and light some fires? Oh, many, many times. But that’s not the point.

The point is, no matter what people do, our job is to trust God and keep doing what He’s called us to do. And every time we do that, we’ll be blessed in the end. Even if that blessing is just a little more wisdom from the mistakes we’ve made.

And let me tell you, this one was a very expensive lesson in wisdom.

Judges 14-16 reads like a blockbuster, divine messengers, impossible strength, love gone sideways, and enough drama to fill a reality TV season. But beneath the wild antics of Israel’s most infamous judge lies a feast of hospitality lessons, where God’s provision meets human folly in the most spectacular ways.

Last time, we talked about Manoah and his wife, just going about their day when, boom! An angel shows up with a direct message from God. And this isn’t your average “Congrats, you’re having a baby” moment. No, this angel comes with a full set of parenting instructions. Their son, Samson, is going to be a Nazirite, set apart for God, and destined to take on the Philistines. No pressure, right?

And here’s where it gets even better, God doesn’t just send news; He sends reassurance, instructions, and a promise. That’s divine hospitality at its finest. Manoah, still trying to wrap his head around it all, wants to feed their celestial guest, but the angel redirects him to offer a sacrifice to the Lord instead. Then, in a dramatic exit worthy of a standing ovation, the angel ascends in the flames. Imagine your dinner guest disappearing up the chimney, classic God move.

The takeaway? God shows up when we need Him most, like that friend who always brings snacks to the party. He makes sure we’re fed, physically and spiritually. And when we acknowledge Him and offer our best, He responds in ways that leave us absolutely floored.

Fast forward, and Samson is all grown up, with all the muscle and none of the wisdom. He sets his sights on a Philistine woman and decides, “Yep, that’s the one.” His parents protest, but Samson’s got tunnel vision. So off they go to arrange the wedding.

On the way, he encounters a lion (because why not?) and kills it with his bare hands. Later, he swings by and finds a beehive inside the carcass. Naturally, he scoops out some honey and eats it. Because, of course, when you see honey inside a dead lion, the first thought is, “Ooh, free snack!” He even shares some with his parents; but conveniently leaves out the part about its, uh, unique storage conditions.

Then comes the wedding feast, a Philistine-style rager lasting several days. Feeling cocky, Samson throws out a riddle based on his little honey-from-a-corpse adventure, betting thirty outfits that no one can solve it. His new bride, under pressure from her people, wheedles the answer out of him, spills the beans, and just like that, trust is shattered, tempers flare, and things spiral out of control.

Hospitality is built on trust and honesty. When deception creeps in, even the best feast can turn sour. Also, maybe don’t eat mystery honey. Just a thought.

Fresh off his betrayal, Samson storms away from his bride, only to find out later that her father, (thinking he’d skipped town) gave her to another man. This does not sit well with Samson. So, in true Samson fashion, he catches 300 foxes, ties torches to their tails, and releases them into Philistine fields.

Yes, you read that right. The man turned foxes into an arson squad.

The Philistines retaliate by burning his ex and her family alive (hospitality at its absolute worst). That only fuels Samson’s rage further, and before long, he’s taking out Philistines left and right, eventually grabbing a jawbone of a donkey and using it to mow down a thousand men. Somewhere in there, he gets so thirsty he calls out to God, who graciously cracks open a rock to give him water.

Hospitality isn’t just about grand feasts, it’s about handling conflict with grace. Letting anger drive your actions can turn a bad situation into a wildfire (literally, in Samson’s case). Also, if you ever find yourself wrangling foxes for revenge, maybe take a step back and reconsider your choices.

Enter Delilah, the Philistine femme fatale. The Philistine leaders offer her a hefty payday if she can uncover the secret to Samson’s strength. So, she starts the classic “Tell me all your secrets, babe” routine.

Samson, for reasons that boggle the mind, plays along, at first lying to her, but after enough pestering (and possibly some strategic pouting…and petting), he finally spills the truth: It’s all in the hair. Cue the Philistines sneaking in, chopping off his locks, and capturing him. Next thing he knows, his hair is gone, his strength gone, his eyes gouged out, and his freedom lost.

Later, during a Philistine feast, they drag Samson out for entertainment, mocking the once-mighty warrior. But here’s where God’s hospitality shines again, Samson, humbled and broken, prays for one last burst of strength. God grants it, and with one final push, Samson pulls down the temple, taking thousands of Philistines with him.

Be careful who you welcome into your life. Not everyone who smiles at your table has your best interests at heart. True hospitality is about mutual respect, not manipulation. And never, never, let someone near your head with scissors if they’ve been asking too many suspicious questions.

God’s hospitality is timely and personal. He shows up when we need Him; through an angel, unexpected strength, or a second chance. Trust is the backbone of hospitality. From Samson’s wedding feast to Delilah’s deception, betrayal always poisons the table. Anger and pride can ruin the best meal. Whether it’s burning fields or pulling down temples, Samson’s life is a cautionary tale about what happens when you let emotions drive.

Redemption is always on the menu. Even at his lowest, Samson turns back to God, and God answers. Samson’s story may be wild, but through it all, we see how hospitality, both divine and human, shapes destinies. Sometimes, it’s a feast of blessings. Other times, it’s a cautionary tale best served with a side of wisdom.

So, what’s the moral of the story? Hospitality is risky business. It’s not a fairytale where everyone is grateful, lessons are neatly learned, and the credits roll with a feel-good ending. Sometimes, people take advantage. Sometimes, trust gets shattered. And sometimes, you find yourself cleaning up the wreckage of someone else’s mess, wondering why you even bothered. But here’s the thing, hospitality isn’t about ensuring a perfect outcome. It’s about being faithful to what God has called us to do. Did we get burned? Oh yeah. But that doesn’t mean we stop opening our doors. It just means we do it with a little more wisdom next time. Because at the end of the day, hospitality is never wasted when it’s done for the right reasons. People may fail us, but God never does, and that’s what truly matters.

Stay Salty