This post is an up-stacked post, expanded from a version published on July 27, 2022.
Two angels entered Sodom before heavenly fire destroyed it. The author of Hebrews—clearly thinking of this story—advises the church to show hospitality to strangers for “because of this, some have entertained angels unawares” (Heb 13:2). On at least one occasion, I’m pretty sure Resurrection Assembly of God in Iowa City entertained a strange angel.
She appeared during office hours, disheveled and looking homeless. I hesitate to say that I was afraid, because the stigma attached to homelessness is often unfair. I was afraid. But it might not have been because of my classist inclinations. In the Bible angels are scary, that’s why they always have to say, “fear not!” (e.g. Luke 1:30).
She had wrapped random bits of clothing around her head and face so that only her shadowed eyes were peeking through. Her voice was raspy and quiet. She refused to give us a name other than, “Pretty.” We sat down together and talked, trying to understand why she had come to the church and what she wanted from us. We gave her food. We put all-weather boots on her naked feet, which particularly excited her. She came back the next day. And the next. And each day for a week.
With each successive day, and as we proved our willingness to show hospitality to this stranger, she began removing, piece by piece, the articles of clothing from her face to reveal herself. Her voice became less raspy and increased in volume. After about a week she asked if we could help her with a bus ticket to Chicago. We bought it for her, though I don’t remember how we paid for it.
Why do I think she was an angel? I can’t fully explain it. But we were left sober and compelled that a heavenly presence had visited us. And why visit us? That I also don’t know, except that it revealed something of ourselves to us. It’s worth remembering that angels always visit before God himself shows up.
Fire fell on Sodom, and fire fell on Pentecost. How we receive strangers and angels shows us which kind of fire is our portion.
Pastorally, I think we need to intentionally make our doors available for strangers and angels alike to knock on. That begins with us waiting expectantly on the other side. Not every church has a building. And not every church is accessible to pedestrians. In those instances, we need to ensure other ways for heaven and earth to pay us a visit, whether to bless us or for us to bless them.
So, I suggest you look for and expect strange angels to knock on your church’s door. They’re almost always homeless, like Christ was. Receive them as you would receive Jesus, and Jesus might just come knocking next.
Finally, if you’re ever in Chicago, look for an angel there, because that’s where she said she was going.
Unrelatedly:
If you haven’t already, get a copy of my Resurrecting Worship: A Pentecostal Liturgy for Slow Burn Revival.
Here’s what Dr. Mike Rakes, President of Evangel University says about it:
“Joseph’s commitment to scholarship and Pentecostal worship redefined is clear in his writing. Drawing from his work in Iowa, he masterfully weaves in the experiences there and offers considerations for the broader church. In our tradition, there is a broad spectrum of expressions, and he unpacks thoughtful insights that are sincere and reveal his dedication to leading an authentic Spirit-filled community at the grass roots. His treatment of Pentecostal worship is both insightful and gracious. By emphasizing the centrality of Scripture, the significance of prophetic preaching, and the role of communal worship, he offers a perspective on worship that will deepen the readers knowledge of ecclesiology—all intended to strengthen the local church.”