Victoria Duerstock is a multi-passionate creative, entrepreneur, and author fueled by coffee and a love for bringing beauty and meaning into everyday life. A wife and mom of three, she has written numerous books—including The Story of Good, Revived and Renovated, and the Heart & Home series—exploring the intersections of faith, home, and hospitality. Beyond writing and speaking, Victoria is the founder of End Game Press, a traditional publishing house championing voices across genres, from board books to nonfiction. Her mission is approachable yet profound: to create beauty, cultivate community, leverage resources, impact others, and leave a legacy. Whether through her books, coaching, or publishing work, she’s passionate about helping ordinary people discover they can do extraordinary things for the Kingdom. Learn more at endgamepress.com and victoriaduerstock.com.
In this interview, Victoria talks about what is at the heart of hospitality and what it truly means to welcome others. She reminds us that hospitality isn’t just for those with perfect homes—everyone has something to offer. With warmth (brightness too!) and practical insight, Victoria tells how genuine hospitality is about connection, not perfection. She explores why striving for flawlessness can actually get in the way, and how embracing vulnerability creates deeper, more meaningful encounters. Ultimately, she invites us to see hospitality not as a task to check off, but as a way to make people feel seen, valued, and cared for. Tune in to discover the heart behind authentic, everyday hospitality.
Books mentioned:
UnChristian (Gabe Lyons and David Kinnaman)
Guard Your Heart & Home: Pursuing Peace in Your Living Space (Victoria Duerstock)
Heart & Home for Christmas: Celebrating Joy in Your Living Space (Victoria Duerstock)
Radix: Thank you so much for taking the time to share your experience. You have a really wonderful book here. Our current issue focuses on “subversive hospitality,” and I think—though you know this better than I do—hospitality is often understood in a limited way. What struck me about your book is that it’s not only full of Scripture, but also practical things like meal plans and reflections on how the flow of a house matters. And it’s beautifully put together, with gorgeous photographs. Could you share a little about why you wrote it?
Victoria Duerstock: Absolutely. I think there are generally two kinds of authors: those who write because they’re experts, and those who write because they’re in the middle of experiencing something. I fall in the second camp. I don’t see myself as a master of hospitality. In fact, there are many ways I wish I were better at it. But I think that’s where most of us live, and it’s important to be honest about that.
Too often, we approach hospitality with a perfectionistic mindset, which really just becomes entertaining. What I’ve found is that people usually don’t practice hospitality for one of two reasons. Either they don’t understand the biblical reasons for it, or they do, but the practical side feels overwhelming. How do I meal prep so I can be ready on short notice? How do I anticipate people’s needs? So my thought was, what if I write about both? On one side, the heart of hospitality, its biblical and spiritual roots, and on the other, practical ways families can live it out without feeling crushed by impossible expectations. Because true hospitality isn’t about grand gestures; it’s about making space. That’s what I hoped the book could hold together.
Radix: That idea of vulnerability—and maybe also humility—seems so important. And also, hospitality isn’t meant to be utilitarian. Sometimes in evangelical circles, we slip into thinking, I should be friendly, I should help the poor, I should do this or that, as though the goal is simply to make something happen. Of course it’s wonderful when someone “comes to Jesus” through it, but the point isn’t to engineer outcomes. We practice hospitality because that’s who Jesus was, and we’re called to reflect that.
VD: I think in Christian circles we love our checklists. I say that as someone who loves lists, and as a recovering perfectionist. It’s easy to think, If I just do these five things, I’ve succeeded at hospitality. But in focusing on the list, we can lose sight of the heart behind it all.
Vulnerability shifts that. It takes away the pressure of a perfect home or a flawless meal. Instead, it’s about letting people see us as we are. At the core, people long to be seen, known, and loved—and hospitality is one of the simplest ways to offer that. And when others accept us as we are—warts and all—those walls come down. Sitting across a table with tea or coffee, being honest and transparent, that’s where real friendship and relationships are built.
Radix: I like that in your book, even though you include some wonderful recipes, you emphasize that hospitality can be simple. Perfection really can be the enemy of the good.
VD: Yes.
Radix: I think many Christians—and really, people in general—want to do good things. But we often imagine we have to do them on a grand scale. Growing up, we might think, I need to be a Billy Graham or a Mother Teresa. That’s admirable, but the reality is most of us are just ordinary people. And ordinary people can do good things. You don’t have to invite your neighbor for a five-course meal. As you say, you can just have them over for tea or coffee, or something simple. That makes doing good feel attainable—maybe just a few hours a month.
VD: Absolutely. We’ve put such a heavy burden on ourselves over what hospitality is “supposed” to look like. Here in the South, entertaining is almost an art form: the right pottery, china, silver pieces, everything just so. But what that unintentionally communicates is that if you don’t have those things—or if you’re raising a young family or just starting out—you shouldn’t host. And that’s tragic, because hospitality isn’t about staging a perfect event. It’s about life shared together.
That’s also why it’s so powerful in building friendships with unbelievers. Many people don’t want to be preached at, but they’re open to coming into your home, sharing a meal, and seeing how you live.
Radix: Right. And depending on our personalities, hospitality can feel easier or harder. I’m more introverted myself.
VD: Me too. It doesn’t come easily. As an introvert, you want to stay in your own space and guard your energy.
Radix: Exactly. And yet, even for us, it’s important to remember that self-knowledge doesn’t come only through solitude. We actually need others to know us. As members of the body of Christ, we each perceive the world differently, and it’s by sharing those perceptions that we get a fuller view of truth.
VD: Introverts are prone to thinking and ruminating endlessly, which has its strengths. But without sharing those thoughts, the wider body can’t benefit from them. And the reverse is true—we need others’ perspectives as well. That kind of exchange strengthens us all.
Radix: In your book, you also mention some things that hinder hospitality. You’ve touched on a few already. Do you want to say more?
VD: It’s easy to say, I can’t do this right now because… And the reasons are valid: young kids, laundry everywhere, toys underfoot, just the chaos of daily life. There’s always a reason not to. Ironically, this book was released right as COVID restrictions began. Talk about timing! Here I was, encouraging people to open their doors, and suddenly no one was allowed to. At first I thought, Well, no one’s going to buy this book now. But it reminded me that there will always be hindrances.
In the end, hospitality isn’t about convenience—it’s about obedience. For me, pride is often the real obstacle. Pride wrapped up in perfectionism: I don’t want people to see my mess, or know I don’t have it all together. But the truth is, they don’t either. So many of our hindrances disappear once we’re honest about that and choose to be vulnerable.
Radix: People often have daily practices to deepen their spiritual life or simply to live more fully—whether that’s the examen, journaling, gardening, or some mix of all of these. Do you have any practices that help you settle and expand yourself?
VD: I love journaling. For me, it starts with getting up early, pouring a cup of coffee, and just sitting quietly—sometimes watching the sunrise, if I’m up in time. That’s when I read my Bible, sit in awe of creation, and give myself space to notice what God has placed around me. Being in nature especially fills me up. When the weather’s bad, I miss that, but it’s a rhythm that grounds me whenever I can do it.
Radix: And slowing ourselves down is so important, though not always easy. In your book, you mention technology. You’d think it would help us slow down, but really, it just fills the space we save.
VD: Yes! Especially in the last couple of years with AI and other technologies. I sometimes wonder if I’m just getting older and crankier, but honestly, I find myself wanting to pull back from it all. The promise is always, We’ll take things off your plate, but in reality you end up having to learn the new thing, master it, integrate it—and meanwhile, more is being added. We’re not actually making life easier, we’re just creating space to cram in even more. It’s an endless hamster wheel, and it wears me out.
Radix: Right. It’s a bit like space in general. Whether it’s a hard drive, a closet, or a car trunk—you move into something bigger, and before long it’s full again.
VD: And the same is true of time. There’s a well-known idea—can’t recall the exact source right now—that a task will expand to fill the time we allow for it. When I’m on a deadline, I’m much more efficient than when I have all the time in the world. That’s why I block out specific times for different things, including unstructured creative time. If I don’t, I stay in checklist mode, always ticking off tasks and never allowing space for hospitality or imagination. In fact, I sometimes schedule one day a month specifically for hospitality; like, this is the day I open my doors. If I don’t put it on the calendar, it won’t happen. Fail to plan, plan to fail—it applies to hospitality as much as anything else.
Radix: That’s one thing I appreciated in your book—the way you include practical breakdowns. You’ll say, “Week one, week two,” with lists, examples, and even pictures. Was that just a reflection of how your own mind works, or were you thinking it might be useful for others too?
VD: Honestly, it started as a reflection of how I think. Most of what I write is first for me—I need it. But over the years I’ve been writing about “heart and home” themes, I’ve had enough feedback to realize it helps others too. For a while I had a little online community where we’d tackle things together: “On Friday, we’re all cleaning out our refrigerators. Post your pictures—mess and all.” And people loved it. It wasn’t about having a perfect home; it was about being seen, and doing life together.
That’s really the heartbeat of it all: being seen, known, and loved. And I think that reflects the process of how Jesus relates to us. First, He sees us. Then He knows us. And even with all He knows, He still loves us. That’s the model I hope we can embrace with each other.
Radix: You’ve talked about decluttering mind and heart. Can you share a little more about what that means?
VD: Stuff just takes over. I’m a piler—papers in stacks everywhere. I know where everything is, so I tell people, “Don’t touch my piles.” That’s my “system,” if you can call it that. It drives everyone else crazy, but it works for me. Of course, I know I could do better.
Decluttering regularly makes it manageable, but so often we don’t have time. So instead of little bits, it becomes a massive project once or twice a year. I’d always try to do it before Christmas because I knew new toys were coming in and something had to go out. For me, having space matters, for my mind and my home. If a guest walks in and feels like they can’t sit down without knocking over a pile, that’s not welcoming. It’s the same with our inner lives. If my mind is full of chaos, I don’t have the margin to meditate or listen to what God has for me that day. Clutter, whether physical or mental, crowds out room for people and for peace.
Radix: Right. And it’s striking to realize that cleaning a closet or a refrigerator might not look like a spiritual exercise, but in practice it’s a deeply Christian act—because those small things make space for hospitality and community.
VD: Right. Scripture says to do things “decently and in order,” and I think there’s wisdom there. Not in a legalistic sense—your house doesn’t need to be perfect before you invite someone over—but in the sense that order creates space for others to feel comfortable. And honestly, it creates freedom for us too. Less clutter means less to clean, less stress. It’s like when you hire a cleaning service, but you frantically tidy before they arrive. I laugh at myself for that! But it shows how much we care about appearances.
The truth is, when someone sees our mess and still loves us, that’s when we’re truly known. That’s what we’re all longing for: being seen, known, and loved. If we could be more honest about that, I think more of us would open our doors, invite people in, and create those spaces where gospel conversations naturally happen.
Radix: I’m curious, and this is a bit outside the box: when I talk with older folks, like my grandparents, they’ll often mention how much more common it used to be to just have people over. Sunday afternoons, neighbors dropping by—hospitality was part of life. Now it feels harder. Maybe that’s cultural individualism, or the pressure to look perfect, or even finances—people not wanting others to see they don’t have “nice things.” Do you think it’s really changed for the worse?
VD: I even remember as a child, on a regular basis, going to people’s homes, and being invited for a meal with my parents. Sometimes it was a close group of friends rotating houses, not really organized, but regular. Other times it was that Sunday afternoon lunch—someone would invite you out, or more often into their homes. And I look back and think, Wow, that was kind of cool. We just don’t do that much anymore. And now, five years after writing the book, I think it’s gotten worse. Back then I thought we needed to recover this practice, but today it feels even more rare. Of course, we went through a season where things shut down, we were trying to keep everyone healthy, and there were so many unknowns. That really changed what we were accustomed to—especially welcoming people in.
We work with a small group of young couples, and when I was writing the book I would ask them, “What holds you back?” That’s where the “pizza on paper plates” idea came from. They’d say things like, “We only have paper plates,” or “We’ve got mismatched dishes, and the kids will just break them.” So I’d say, “It doesn’t have to be fancy—it can be pizza on paper plates. Just open your homes, be hospitable.”
But now it feels worse, because for a couple years we were all protecting our families and not really socializing. And on top of that there’s the individualism, the “I don’t want anyone in my business” mindset. As an only child, I get that—I’m pretty self-sufficient, I’ve been “adulting” my whole life. But I think that’s why we need to be intentional. Hospitality isn’t going to happen naturally; we have to decide, “I’m going to make this happen.”
Radix: I connected with that. You also talk at the end of your book about being hospitable across cultural lines. But if you’re in a community with lots of different cultures, it can feel intimidating. What’s your take on that?
VD: Different is daunting—any kind of different. For me personally, I never want to make a mistake. I don’t want to hurt someone, or look dumb, or seem ignorant. And that fear can keep me from stepping outside my comfort zone. But really, that’s just building unnecessary walls to avoid failure.
The truth is: life is messy. The Christian life is messy. People are messy. They have different values, different perspectives. If we’re not willing to enter that mess, we miss out on what Christ calls us to—reaching out, doing things that are uncomfortable, learning along the way. Yes, we might make mistakes. Hopefully people will understand. Sometimes they won’t. But we can’t limit hospitality only to what feels safe or familiar. Becoming uncomfortable is part of obedience.
Radix: In a book from a few years back, Good Faith by Gabe Lyons and David Kinnaman, they used the “telephone game” as an illustration. They said, “Open your phone, look at your contacts, and think: how many of them are basically like you—same race, same politics, same philosophy?” For most of us, the answer is: almost all of them. That’s natural, we’re tribal creatures, but it’s not healthy. We need to step out more. So when it comes to being hospitable toward people who are different, I think what you’re saying applies: be willing to make mistakes. The important thing is to act: to do hospitality first. In the previously mentioned “decently and in order” verse, the “being done” comes first.
VD: That’s a good point. If we wait to practice hospitality, or any act of obedience, until we understand everything perfectly, we’ll never do it. There’s always something more to learn, something more to fix, another dust bunny in the corner. That mindset keeps us from acting. Of course, we want to do things well, not recklessly. But if we never step out, then we’ve already done it incorrectly. Hospitality is like a muscle—it gets stronger the more you use it. It won’t be perfect at first, but the point is to begin.
One thing we’ve done recently with our small group is rotate hosting. We’ll still teach and guide the discussions, but the group meets in different homes. It helps people build the habit. They realize, “Okay, it’s Tuesday night. The house isn’t spotless, the kids have been playing, dinner’s not fancy… but let’s do taco night. Who’s bringing cheese? Who’s got the lettuce?” It becomes collaborative, and people see that hospitality doesn’t have to be perfect—it just has to happen. For me, especially as I get older, it’s not only about practicing hospitality but also helping others do it—by example, by encouragement, by what I write. I want the next generation to see how important this is.
Radix: And scripturally, that’s the idea of the wise women teaching the younger women.
VD: Yes. Though I’ll admit, it’s hard when you suddenly realize you’ve become one of the “older women”! I thought I’d stay in the younger category longer. But really, it’s always a process of reaching up and reaching back at the same time.
When my son was little, I had a mentor I’d complain to: “He wakes up so early, and I’m trying to have my Bible study.” She told me, “He’s like your Samuel, he’s helping you stay on track.” I never forgot that. He’s 21 now and doesn’t wake me up anymore, but that shift in mindset—passed down from someone wiser—stuck with me. And in turn, I’ve been able to invest in others.
Originally, the book’s title was going to be Biblical Hospitality. That’s what I was writing about. But the publisher suggested Radical Hospitality. I resisted—I didn’t think it was radical. Nothing I was saying was new. It was simply: do what Scripture already calls us to do. That’s how we landed on The Extraordinary Ordinary. Hospitality feels extraordinary today only because so few actually practice it. But in reality, it’s the ordinary work of everyday Christians. You know, people simply trying to honor the Lord and live faithfully.
Radix: So the book is now five years old.
VD: Yes, late September marks five years.
Radix: Looking back, what would you focus on more or less, or what would you add if you were writing it today?
VD: Good question. Honestly, I don’t think I’d change much of the core message: the biblical reasons for hospitality will always need to be emphasized. But there have been requests for more group-oriented resources, like a Bible study or journaling opportunities to help people process and apply what they’re learning. That’s something I could expand on.
As for the practical side—the recipes, the decluttering tips—some reviewers said, “These aren’t groundbreaking.” And they’re right; they weren’t meant to be. The point was to put simple, doable ideas in one place, so hospitality feels less intimidating. Sure, there could be fancier recipes or more detailed organization methods, but the goal wasn’t perfection. It was to remove barriers and encourage people to try. So while I wouldn’t overhaul that part, I could see adding more Bible study or journaling elements, especially for groups.
Radix: Right. I appreciated that balance. In churches you often see people split—some lean heavily on theory, others just do the work. But we need both. For someone like me, it’s easy to just read and think forever. Your book gave me theology and practical tools—like schedules and recipes—which helped bridge that gap.
VD: That’s exactly why I wrote it that way. I’m the same way: I love to learn, and I can stay in the theory forever without ever moving into practice. Or I’ll switch focus before I’ve actually applied what I’ve learned. For me, it was important to combine both: the “why” of hospitality and the “how.”
Sometimes what feels obvious to me—that we need to open our doors—doesn’t feel obvious to others. So I asked, “How would I explain this to someone who doesn’t see the point?” Because if we’re not inviting people in, our kids won’t either. And then the practice of hospitality just keeps fading with each generation. And the truth is, people need people. Introverts especially might think we don’t, because we’re content with our books and our thoughts. I grew up an only child—reading and playing piano were my main activities. It’s easy for me to get lost in that and not notice time passing. Thankfully, I married someone who’s wired the opposite. He’d rather go do, while I’d rather keep reading. Together, he helps me take that next step: open the door, welcome people in, and remember that it doesn’t have to be perfect. At the end of the day, the heart of hospitality is this: people are more important than perfection, more important than clutter, more important than stuff.
Radix: I like to ask guests this: pastors and clergy don’t carry quite the authority they once did, but they still hold influence. If you had all of them in a room—like Hermione’s magic bag, where everyone fits and they had to listen—what would you want to tell them?
VD: I’d want them to hear the heart of an ordinary person. I’d encourage them to help their congregations think differently about their homes. A home isn’t just for personal comfort or family life—it’s meant to serve the Lord’s purposes. And if that encouragement comes from pastors, it carries real weight because of the respect they still hold. I think it could be a powerful message for Christians and even for the culture at large: ordinary people can do something extraordinary in their homes if they’re willing.
Radix: Lovely answer. So, I noticed in the catalog of your press, End Game Press, that it has quite a range—children’s books, calendars, all sorts of things. Are you working on any new projects yourself?
VD: Great question. Yes, End Game Press launched in January 2021, and we’ve been running full throttle since: publishing nonfiction, fiction, children’s titles, and gift books. In the early days I still had a few personal projects I was trying to push forward, but honestly, my own creative writing has slowed as the press has grown. That said, I do have a couple of ideas waiting. One is a short devotional called Making Room. It plays off the idea of hospitality in the home, but also expands it: making room in our hearts for what God is doing in us. It’s still all in my head—I need to get it onto paper soon—but I think it could be a meaningful way to keep exploring hospitality and home.
And then there’s a novel I wrote early on, when I was first pitching myself as an author. It doesn’t fit neatly into a genre—it’s more of a “this is what I’d like to read” kind of book. Maybe that’s why it hasn’t found a home yet. But I’d love to dust it off and let myself play a little with fiction, even though readers don’t know me for that. We’ll see what this next year holds.
Radix: Wonderful. I wanted to ask about the pictures in your books. You clearly care about aesthetics—why was it important to include those images?
VD: I love beautiful books, and that’s a personal preference, but I’ve also seen how beauty connects with people. A book that feels good in your hand and includes inspiring images invites readers to linger. In my earlier devotionals—Heart & Home and Heart & Home for Christmas—we featured photography alongside short devotionals, and people loved it. The images, the designer tips, the daily reflection points, it all worked together. So when it came time to write about hospitality, I thought, “Of course it needs pictures.”
God is a creator—He gave careful instructions for the tabernacle, the ark, the details of worship. He values beauty, and He gave people the gift of creating beautiful things. My books mirror that. The photos aren’t meant to prescribe how anyone’s home should look, but to inspire: “Maybe I could rearrange something in my space. Maybe I could make this corner more welcoming.” Beautiful images help people pause, reflect, and hopefully take the words to heart. In that sense, the pictures are a little bit subversive—inviting people in before they even realize it.
Radix: Very cool. Well, best wishes for End Game Press, for that novel, and for all you’re doing. This has been a privilege. Thank you so much.
VD: Thank you. I really appreciate your time and for shining a light on hospitality. It’s a passion of mine, and I’m grateful for the chance to share it.