Carolyn Lacey is a writer, speaker, and pastor’s wife with a heart for helping people see God’s grace in the everyday. She serves alongside her husband, Richard, in Worcester, UK, where they live with their two teenage children. She teaches the Bible regularly at women’s events and conferences, and loves looking for ways to apply God’s grace to the mundane moments of ordinary life. She’s the author of Extraordinary Hospitality (for Ordinary People): Seven Ways to Welcome Like Jesus and Say the Right Thing: How Your Words Can Glorify God and Encourage Others. Her forthcoming devotional, Amazed: 30 Days of Growing in Awe of God, invites readers to rediscover wonder in their walk with Christ.
In this interview, Carolyn Lacey talks about what it truly means to be hospitable—moving beyond traditional expectations of hosting and embracing a broader, more inclusive vision. She shares how God’s own generous welcome serves as the foundation for authentic hospitality, and discusses the challenges of overcoming pride, burnout, and the pressures of individualism. We also talk about the value of practicing hospitality together as a community, and how small acts of compassionate welcome can transform lives—both for those who give and those who receive. Join us for a conversation that invites us all to reflect Christ’s love through everyday acts of genuine, joyful welcome.
Books mentioned:
The Common Rule: Habits of Purpose for an Age of Distraction (Justin Whitmel Earley)
Say the Right Thing (Carolyn Lacey)
Amazed: 30 Days of Growing in Awe of God – forthcoming (Carolyn Lacey)
Radix: Thank you so much for taking the time to chat—and, of course, for the book you wrote. It was a great read. One of the comments I saw in the book’s reviews was that it’s soaked in Scripture, and I agree. The ideas you present also feel very timely. Speaking of that timeliness, what first prompted you to write it?
Carolyn Lacey: A couple of things. I’ve been in Christian ministry with my husband for many years, and we used to help at a conference for younger people exploring pastoral ministry. We led a seminar—I think it was called Is Ministry for Me?—and part of my teaching was on the biblical qualifications for church leaders. One of them is that they should be hospitable.
It struck me that in most of the churches I’d been in, that qualification was interpreted as: the elder’s wife, if he has one, should be really good at hosting lots of people for Sunday lunch. I had questions. What if she can’t? What if he can’t? What if their house isn’t big enough? What if one of them has an eating disorder? What if they have children with special needs? Was that really what the Apostle Paul had in mind?
At the same time, I was having conversations with people in my church who were struggling with the traditional “Sunday lunch” idea of hospitality. Some had complicated living circumstances: married to an unbeliever, sharing a flat, that sort of thing. Increasingly, others were struggling with mental health challenges that made hosting a houseful of people overwhelming and intimidating. They felt hospitality was a spiritual discipline they couldn’t practice, which in turn made them feel like failures.
That made me want to dig into what the Bible actually says about being hospitable. Could it mean more than inviting people for dinner? Could we broaden the definition? In the book, I frame hospitality as welcome—welcoming others as Jesus does. That’s really where it began.
Radix: In the book, it’s clear that you have—if I can put it this way—a theology of God as being very hospitable toward us.
CL: Yes. As I researched and wrote, I was struck by God’s extravagant hospitality toward us. He’s so generously welcoming, and He takes the initiative.
Even from the beginning of creation, we know God didn’t need to make the world. The Trinity—Father, Son, and Spirit—were fully satisfied in their relationship with one another. There was nothing lacking. So the reason for creating was to welcome humanity into relationship with Him. It was an overflow of His joyful, generous spirit.
All through the Bible we see how welcoming and invitational God is. In the book, I talk about that moment after Adam and Eve sinned, when God asks, “Where are you?” It’s not that He doesn’t know—He’s inviting them to come to Him. Yes, they must own their sin and face consequences, but His heart is inclined toward people.
We are grateful recipients of that welcome, so our hospitality to others should naturally spring from it. People who are bowled over by this welcoming God will want to reflect Him to others. That theology of God as a welcoming God is something I’ve woven through the book.
Radix: And there’s a joyful element to that. Sometimes in Christian circles, being friendly or hospitable is treated as a means to an end—so that something will happen. It becomes utilitarian, instead of simply reflecting God’s nature. The reality is that God sends rain on the just and unjust; we’re to be welcoming because that’s who God is, not only because it might “work.” Anyway, when you use the word joyful, that really comes through in your book.
CL: I hope so. I was particularly challenged while writing. It’s so easy to be grudging about hospitality—thinking, “I haven’t had these people over for a while, so I’d better, and then I can tick it off the list.” That’s not God’s hospitality. His is joyful. He delights in people.
Now, depending on our personalities—introvert, extrovert—that joy may come more easily or be harder. But hospitality centered on Him should be joyful, not grudging. That’s challenged me in my own life, not just while writing but in putting it into practice.
Radix: Can I ask, are you more extroverted or introverted?
CL: Oh, I’m an introvert. But I’m an introvert who’s learned to love people. I genuinely do love people and want to give myself to them, but it can drain my time and energy. I’d call myself a “sociable introvert.” My default is to withdraw.
One interesting thing during the pandemic was that I didn’t find lockdown too hard; it was probably a bit too easy for me to withdraw into my own home. Of course, I felt deeply sad about all the suffering, but the isolation itself wasn’t difficult. Yet God says it’s not good for people to be alone. He’s designed us to flourish in community. I’ve learned that even if I don’t feel like I need people, I do—because He says I do. Lately, I’ve been reminding myself: even if this feels hard, even if it pushes me outside my comfort zone, God says it’s good. And I’m learning to live that out.
Radix: I was just listening to something by Henry Nouwen where he talked about the importance of solitude and community. That after Jesus had solitude and community, then He went out and healed.
I think, depending on a person’s tendency toward extroversion or introversion—well, for extroverts, it’s probably good to practice being quieter and developing that interior space. For introverts—difficult as it might be—we sometimes need to be pushed outward. I can pretend really well, which is good. I’m grateful my family helped me with that.
CL: Yeah, yeah. And in some ways, for those of us who were feeling burnt out or close to it, there was a gift in the pandemic, like a reset, a chance to learn new practices.
But I think you’re right: we need both. The Lord Jesus modeled that so perfectly—time alone with the Father, away from the crowds, and then moving toward people. Extroverts need that prayerful solitude, and introverts need the reminder to move toward others. I’m glad I’m not alone in this—I’m glad you get it.
Radix: In your book, you talked about superficial hospitality. Can you explain what you mean by that? For many people, it’s easy not to think about, because depending on our upbringing, we’ve been programmed to think hospitality is a certain thing. But there are forms of it that aren’t as helpful or as much of a blessing to others.
CL: Yes, and I think that comes from both inside and outside the church.
In media—social media, TV, magazines—we often see a superficial hospitality portrayed: the perfect house, the perfect table settings, sparkling surfaces, witty conversation, beautiful food. The focus is on presentation rather than welcome. Nobody would say they don’t want guests to feel welcome, but the emphasis is external. That’s one characteristic of superficial hospitality, but it’s surface-level.
Even within the church, there can be a sense that it has to look a certain way. I’m an introvert, but I don’t find it difficult to have people over. I like cooking, I can cook for a crowd, and I can keep a conversation going. It would be easy for me to offer hospitality that looks good on the outside but doesn’t necessarily come from a heart that loves or seeks to share the Lord. Sometimes it can be more about what I want to do for people than about what they truly need. Superficial hospitality can be self-focused—about what I want to offer, what I think someone would like—rather than stopping to consider and pray about their actual needs.
That’s the difference between hospitality that looks like Jesus’—selfless, wise, unconcerned with appearances—and hospitality that’s preoccupied with reputation or image. We can get caught up in questions like, “What if I invite the wrong people? What if my conversation isn’t good enough? What if I risk my reputation by not inviting the ‘in’ crowd?” Jesus didn’t worry about those things. His hospitality was about revealing the Father’s love and welcoming the lost into relationship with Him. There’s nothing superficial about that. That’s the goal I want for my hospitality. I don’t do it perfectly, but it’s what I aim for.
Radix: Right, right. You had a line in your book about the importance of compassion over convenience. Sometimes we do things with mixed motives, but I like that phrase, compassion over convenience, because compassion isn’t always convenient. And yet, I think that when we act hospitably, the compassion part—the Jesus part in us—can help us actually appreciate and enjoy it, despite the work it takes.
CL: I think I know what you mean. It’s interesting—you can feel more compassion as you act in compassion. You decide, “This isn’t convenient or comfortable, but I’ll sacrifice my time, energy, whatever it is, for this person.” Especially if it’s someone you find difficult.
But once you do it, the Lord grows compassion in you. You realize as the evening goes on: I’m not finding this as hard as I thought. I’m finding it rewarding. I’m learning to see this person as Jesus does—to value someone made in God’s image who maybe others don’t value. Often, the feelings catch up to the obedience. That’s God’s grace at work. I’ve learned that even when something starts uncomfortable, God often changes my heart in the middle of it.
If I’m honest, my main idol is comfort and convenience. I’ve been challenged about that in the area of hospitality.
Radix: You share stories about that—like May and the students who she invited over for Sunday lunches. I liked that story. Someone without much income still sacrificed specifically to welcome people. And Jason—maybe a bit socially awkward—but still invited in. I think we all know people like that. And when we humanize them and welcome them, even if it’s hard, we can look back later and say it was worth it.
CL: Yes. My friend Neil, who I mention a couple of times in the book, is the best example I know of someone who always moves toward the outsider—the socially awkward person, the one who can’t give anything back. That’s challenging, because we often want something back, even if it’s just a pleasant evening or a bit of affirmation. Neil’s wife had just died, but he still said, “I want to keep doing this—I’ll get a slow cooker.” No excuses.
As an introvert, I can focus on the inconvenience: “What will we talk about? What if it’s awkward?” But Neil just takes the step, trusting the Lord to bring fruit from it. That’s a good principle: be obedient, do what’s right, and trust God to multiply it, even if it’s not the outcome you imagined. There are so many examples of sacrificial generosity. What a blessing they’ve been—and they probably won’t know this side of eternity how many lives they’ve touched.
Radix: Especially in our culture now, where it’s so easy to be individualistic—I’m assuming Britain’s similar to North America. It’s easy to stay home with our devices or Netflix. Reaching out is harder, even to people who seem “comfortable enough” but maybe aren’t as happy as they could be. And I liked your line about how worrying about having a spotless home can actually be a form of pride. That hit home for me.
CL: It’s true, isn’t it? We worry that if we let people into our homes, they’ll see we’re not as “together” as we appear. Maybe our home is messy, not as nice as others’, or—if you have kids—you might have to discipline them in front of guests. These small hindrances are often rooted in pride, because they’re more about what others think of us than about following Jesus’ example. We have to recognise that and fight it.
And you’re right about our individualistic culture. Here in Britain, as I’m sure in North America, loneliness is a growing issue. People are longing for connection. As Christians, we understand people are made in God’s image, and we know the God we worship. Many are not getting welcome anywhere else. So while our society is increasingly individualistic, there’s also a growing hunger for belonging—and we can offer that. It just takes some bravery.
Radix: You also write about the risk of burnout. Being in ministry, you’re on the front lines of that. How do you personally avoid it?
CL: I’ve realized I’m more prone to burnout when I’m trying to meet other people’s expectations rather than the Lord’s. Over the years, I’ve learned to be prayerful about what He wants from me, and to talk things through with people I trust—my husband, prayer partners, ministry friends.
If I’m feeling overwhelmed, I try to assess: Am I doing this to please people, or to please the Lord? You can be welcoming in small ways. If someone’s new at church, I don’t have to host a big meal. I can meet them for coffee, or take a short walk after church. Those are still valid ways of saying, “I see you, I value you.”
Part of avoiding burnout is recognizing we’re limited creatures. I can’t do in my fifties what I did in my thirties. I need to assess my limits and resist the urge to perform or impress. Doing that in community has been key for me—letting others speak into my life, even when it’s uncomfortable.
Recently, a prayer partner pointed out that I’d been spending all my time with people in great need. She reminded me I also need to spend time with those who will encourage me. It’s not less spiritual to do that—it’s necessary if we want to love and welcome for the long haul.
For those in smaller churches or more intense ministry settings, I’d suggest inviting someone outside the situation to look at your diary and ask: Is this sustainable? Small, practical steps like that can make a big difference.
Radix: I’m curious—different people have different daily practices to help them flourish. Some do it by journaling, others by the examen or other spiritual rhythms. Do you have daily practices you find especially helpful that you’d share with others?
CL: Definitely. I need time in the Word every day. I really feel it when I don’t get that. My practice is to read through the Bible each year, and lately I’ve been memorizing chunks—right now, 2 Peter. When moments of overwhelm hit, having a verse in my head keeps me focused on why I’m here, the temporary nature of this world, and the eternity we’re heading for.
I also need time in prayer, and I need to get outside. My church is a ten-minute walk away through the woods, and I make that walk daily. I run a few times a week. Being in creation clears my head—at home there’s always something to do, so getting outside helps me pray and regain an eternal perspective.
And, even as an introvert, I’ve learned I need meaningful conversation. A book I read—The Common Rule by Justin Whitmel Earley—suggests having one deep conversation each week. At first I thought, No, I just need to chill and read my books. But I’ve realized I also need to connect with others at that level, so I’ve been pushing myself to do that more.
Radix: As introverts we can almost convince ourselves books are enough—we “converse” with authors. But there’s something different about sharing life with real people. I’m totally blessed to be close to my sister, family and a few friends; and I’ve been told by some spiritual advisors that I trust that we only come to a true understanding of ourselves by seeing and hearing ourselves through others. Without that, we don’t become our true selves.
CL: I think that’s right. And sometimes others see what we miss. Years ago my husband pointed out that my idol was comfort. I denied it—I’m in ministry, I don’t even have much stuff! He said, “I don’t mean stuff. You just hate when your plans get interrupted.” I was in my thirties before I saw it, and only because he told me.
We need people who will hold us accountable, who’ll celebrate growth—like saying, “Five years ago you would’ve snapped in that moment; look at the grace God’s given you.” That’s a gift. We only flourish in community.
Radix: It’s been about four years since your book came out. If you were to do a second edition, is there anything you’d add or shift focus on?
CL: One thing I emphasize more now is hospitality with others. We tend to see it as a solo effort—I have people over, I welcome them. But since the book, I’ve seen people team up. Two young women in my church host together every Sunday. They plan ahead, choose whose house, decide who to invite, and think about how to connect people across generations or life stages.
Some readers who are introverts, like me, told me they’d love to be hospitable but feel intimidated doing it alone. So they’ve partnered with a friend. You can even invite someone from your church to join when you have non-Christian neighbors over—it helps conversation flow and builds bridges.
Other cultures already do this. In the West we’re so individualistic, but in many places people live and host communally, and we could learn from our other siblings.
Radix: Yeah. In various parts of Canada, you’ll see large houses where multiple families live together, often from cultures like Pakistan or India. There’s wisdom in that. It’s not a rejection of the nuclear family, but it is bigger, more communal. And I like your point about partnering in hospitality. It lightens the burden, especially for those of us who aren’t naturally gregarious.
CL: I saw a story on the news last night about two single mums in their twenties who decided to move in together—“We’re both struggling, why not struggle together and help each other out?” That’s the idea. In the church, too, we can fill in each other’s gaps. Extroverts can draw introverts out; introverts can help extroverts slow down and be sensitive to those who prefer smaller, quieter settings. It’s about doing life together.
Radix: And that connects to what you’ve said before—avoiding formulas, staying flexible in relationships so everyone can flourish.
CL: Yes. It’s really about what people need, not just what I want to offer. I’ve assumed before that someone needed a nice meal and deep conversation, when in reality they just wanted to sit on my sofa with a blanket and a cup of tea. Hospitality takes thought, time, and effort—and we won’t always get it right. Sometimes I’ll offer something with the best intentions, but it won’t land well. And that’s okay. There’s grace for that. We learn, we try again.
Radix: In other words, don’t let perfection be the enemy of the good.
CL: Right! Waiting for everything to be perfect is one of the biggest hindrances to genuine hospitality.
Radix: Since you’re in ministry, here’s one of my favorite questions: if you could speak to every pastor at once, what would you say?
CL: First, I’d say thank you. So much ministry is unseen—the sacrifices you make, and those your family makes, often go unnoticed. But the Lord sees, and He promises to reward.
Second, I’d encourage reframing the “hard” parts of ministry. We often talk about the cost, but I’ve been learning to see those costs as tools God uses to make me the kind of Christian I hope I’d be anyway—but might not be without them. Take prayer meetings, for example. All Christians should want to go, but as a pastor or pastor’s spouse, you don’t really have a choice. Rather than resent that, I’ve learned to say, “Thank you, Lord—this makes me the kind of believer who’s there, week after week.”
It’s the same with welcome. In ministry, you don’t get to pick and choose who you talk to or spend time with. That can feel costly, but it’s also a gift—a way God shapes us into people who reflect His welcome more fully.
Often it’s the hard and costly things that form Christlikeness in us. If we can see them as gifts, maybe we can even be grateful for them.
Radix: I really appreciate the hopeful, joyful tone throughout your work—and when you talk, now. It’s refreshing, and I think it reflects what Christians are meant to have—hope and joy. Sometimes, perhaps because of history or the way the media portrays things, and, partly, because we don’t always live it out well, Christians get a reputation for being dour. But when I meet people—neighbors, friends, even someone like a nurse I know who doesn’t think of himself as anything special but, to me, is a saint—I see joy spilling out in little ways. It’s wonderful to witness. That’s why I especially enjoyed your book, and hearing you talk about it makes it even more fun.
CL: Aw, thank you. And yes, I think the longer you walk with the Lord, the more you realize how much He’s forgiven. Really—so much. And what a privilege it is to know Him, and to have even small opportunities to point others toward Him in our everyday lives. That’s such a gift.
Radix: And even in the small things, He can express Himself in ways we might not have otherwise appreciated, right? We just need to be open vessels, willing to let Him move, and then we get to be part of the amazing things He does.
CL: Exactly. We get to do this. So often, we think, “Oh, I have to do this because I’m a Christian.” No—what an honor it is! I used to tell my kids, when they didn’t want to go to the evening service, “We get to go.” We get to welcome people into our lives, to share the good news of Jesus. We probably won’t fully grasp what an honor that is until eternity, when we see things more clearly. But for now—what a gift.
Radix: Yes—to getting to do lots more.
CL: Yes—to getting to do lots more.
Radix: Thank you so much. Do you have another book in the works?
CL: I do. A couple of years ago, I wrote Say the Right Thing, about honoring the Lord with our words—how our speech can do good for others. That idea actually grew out of thinking about hospitality: what would it look like to be hospitable with our words?
And now, I have a new book coming out December 1st, a devotional called Amazed: 30 Days of Growing in Awe of God. It looks at different characteristics of God, with the hope that readers will grow in awe and delight in Him. It’s being published by The Good Book Company.
Radix: Thank you so much for sharing yourself with us.