When I was in high school, I had a friend whose home became a second home to me. We would have sleepovers, staying up far later than we should, laughing until our stomachs hurt, and dreaming of the future together. Near my graduation, she invited me to her aunt and uncle’s house for dinner. Her family is Filipino, and hospitality was woven into every moment. The table overflowed with delicious dishes, and even after I was full, they insisted I eat more. I’ll never forget that evening or more specifically the first time I tried Lumpia. It was life changing. Even after 20 years, I can still picture the exact spot where I was sitting when I tasted it for the first time.
That night wasn’t just about good food; it was about experiencing a home where generosity and welcome were part of the atmosphere. Their hospitality left a lasting lesson, reminding me that true hospitality goes beyond offering a meal, it’s about creating a place where people feel known, welcomed, and loved. It was their hospitality that reminded me that what’s most important isn’t where I was at, it was who I was with. It was the atmosphere that was cultivated and the environment where I could just be me and for that moment, adopted into this family as one of their own.
Jesus had a place like that – a place where he felt welcomed, rooted, and connected. It was a little village about two miles away from Jerusalem. A little suburb of the holy city called Bethany. Bethany, roughly translated meant, “a house of affliction” or in other translations, “house of the poor.” Today, we know it now for the special moments Jesus spent there. It was in Bethany where. Jesus met with Simon the Leper. In Bethany, Lazarus was sick and died. It was in Bethany where Jesus declared, “You will always have the poor among you.” In Bethany where Jesus was anointed with perfume and later criticism came that the perfume should have been used to help the poor instead. Bethany was intentionally hidden away from the views of the Temple Mount because it’s where the marginalized resided, and let’s be honest, no one wanted to look at the afflicted while ascending to worship.
Yet, time and time again, Jesus returned to this special little village. During Holy Week, He chose Bethany as the place to rest each night. In the final week of his life, it was Bethany where he laid his head. Dr. Len Sweet reflects on this unique connection to this town, noting that while Jesus had his disciples, it was Bethany where he had his friends. There’s something deeply moving about that distinction, a place where Jesus found not just followers but true friends.
I’ve often wondered what made Bethany so special. It had to be more than just the food or free lodging. I imagine it was something deeper, a community that worked to cultivate hospitality and authenticity. Far from the bustling city and the pride of the Pharisees, these were real people: agriculturalists, connected to the earth, filled with compassion for others, and a desperation to know God. Bethany wasn’t impressive by worldly standards, but it was real. And Jesus, drawn to authentic relationships, couldn’t resist a place like that.
There’s been much discussion about what makes the people of God attractive to others — how a church can become more appealing to seekers. But when we look at churches around the world where growth is thriving — whether among Catholics, Protestants, High Church, or Low Church, one common factor stands out: people can sense the presence of God. It’s not the high liturgies, the moving lights, or the big stages. It’s not the designer jeans or the regal vestments. I believe it’s something much deeper, a community that reminds Jesus of Bethany. A place marked by authenticity, humility, and genuine hospitality. A people who, like those in Bethany, create a space where Jesus feels at home.
As we reflect on this image of Bethany, we must ask ourselves: “Is my life a Bethany? How do I cultivate my home to be a place where Jesus loves to be?” If we’re honest, a body of believers doesn’t automatically become that until they begin to embody it. I believe there is a unique calling for people who are passionate about being someone Jesus can trust; someone Jesus wants to spend time with. There is something profoundly beautiful about being a person who makes others feel welcomed and at home.
It’s easy to feel like we don’t measure up, like our lives aren’t impressive enough or that we’re too messy to be a place where Jesus would want to stay. Maybe others see us as afflicted, broken, or unworthy. But Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3). Bethany wasn’t known for its wealth or prestige it was a humble place, filled with people the world might overlook. Yet, it was the place Jesus returned to, again and again, because it was real, welcoming, and honest. It was where His friends were.
Pastors, leaders, friends — it’s easy to feel the pressure to impress, to measure your worth by titles or achievements. But Jesus doesn’t seek status; He seeks friendship. Like Bethany, it’s not about being impressive, but being real — a place where Jesus feels at home. Be that place. Be His friend.
What made Bethany special wasn’t its status or appearance; it was that Jesus found friendship there. He had His disciples, but Bethany had His friends. There’s something powerful about being a friend of Jesus, someone He would seek out, not because of what you have, but because of who you are. Too often, we look to our positions or roles as proof of God’s favor. It’s easy to sit in the holy spaces we build, while neglecting the “Bethany” of our souls. But that’s where Jesus truly wants to reside, not in our status, but in our authenticity, even in our affliction.
I think back to that Filipino family who opened their home to me when I was just a teenager. Their house wasn’t anything particularly fancy, but it was filled with laughter, food, authenticity, and a sense of belonging. I felt like I mattered, I wasn’t there for any other reason except to be welcomed. I believe that’s what it means to be a Bethany — not necessarily having it all together, but cultivating a place where Jesus is loved, valued, and at home.
Perhaps you feel like you don’t have much to offer or that your story may not be impressive. But what if being a “Bethany” is less about what you have and more about how you welcome? What if it’s about creating a space, in your home, your life, your church where Jesus would want to be? If others see you as “poor” or “afflicted,” you’re a prime candidate to be a friend of Jesus, to be a place where his presence rests, a place he seeks out to dwell. That’s the beauty of the Kingdom, it finds a home in unexpected places, among people who simply make room for friendship with him.
Maybe being a Bethany means more than just creating a welcoming space for others; it means becoming a place where Jesus Himself wants to be. It’s about choosing authenticity over appearance, friendship over status, and compassion over perfection. If Jesus were looking for a place to rest, would he find it in us?
Lord, will you make us your Bethany?