On Sunday afternoons, from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. or so, I’ve (Alisha) found myself in an unexpected place: singing karaoke at a local dive bar. The floors are sticky, the drinks are cheap and the lights are dim — the perfect place to remain anonymous. And yet, when the darkness is pierced by the bright afternoon Phoenix sun, and a new person strides from the front door across the dance floor, they’re met with a warm greeting only seen previously in the heartfelt shout of “Norm!” from the 1980s sitcom Cheers.

Here are five expressions of Holy Hospitality I notice in this bar that I wish were present in the church:

1. Genuine welcome 

As new folks enter the bar, they take the time to go from table to barstool, shaking hands and embracing each person in the room. If a new face is encountered, warm introductions are exchanged. There is no grumbling from the person singing, as this is an encouraged posture in this culture: genuine welcome is a priority and doesn’t steal the limelight from those on stage.

In 1 Peter 4:9, we’re reminded that as followers of Christ, we are to show hospitality to one another without grumbling, to express glad reception of the stranger. How often in church has someone arrived late to receive the cold shoulder or a judgmental glance from across the pews? What can we do to change our posture and genuinely welcome — and make space for that welcoming — without grumbling?

2. Acceptance over judgment

The regular crowd at the bar is a motley crew of folks that gathers with many things in common: the desire to be somewhere air conditioned on a Sunday afternoon, to dress comfortably (rather to impress), to get home to bed at a reasonable hour and to sing their hearts out to songs that were top-40 songs on the charts decades ago. No one is turned away, and there is space for anyone who is willing to enter with a similar posture.

How often does the church distance themselves from folks who don’t fit its cultural mold? Hospitality can come in many forms, but the ultimate purpose is this: To honor and obey God by serving those around us. As Christians, we are called to practice biblical hospitality . . . and to practice it with joy! “Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Sam 15:22).

3. Accommodation for the marginalized

When you approach the bar, a motorized wheelchair is parked outside the door, and inside a smattering of folks with mobility limitations are bellied up to their preferred tables. When it’s their turn to sing, the karaoke host graciously brings them the microphone and the room turns to receive their gift of song, from the performers’ place in the room. That’s right: the spectators turn to receive, instead of expecting that performers to move to the stage.

In Romans 12:12-16, we’re called to contribute to the needs of the saints and show hospitality — but it seems that many churches prioritize “polished, YouTube production perfection” in their services, rather than making space for all aspects of humanity in our Sunday morning gathering. What if the church were to honestly pursue the latter?

4. A safe space to express emotion

At karaoke, the lyrics of a song can be so provocative that the performer (or the audience) is moved to tears . . . and folks move in to throw an arm around the singer, holding the person in that feeling, encouraging the emotion to flow freely. To emote is to be human – God created us uniquely and wonderfully to express ourselves in a multitude of ways.

So why is it that the only appropriate emotion in church is placidity? If persons are too energetic, too sad or too angry, they’re ushered to a private space to process. Even the babies are sent to the cry room. Why can’t people express themselves in the multitude of beautiful ways that God designed, in God’s holy house on a Sunday morning?

5. Encouragement and celebration

As I look around the bar, I’m astonished at the level of intimacy, care and encouragement shared by these strangers, who in time have become friends. The prophet Billy Joel once sang, “They’re sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it’s better than drinking alone,” but on Sunday nights at this dive bar, no one is lonely and no one is drinking alone. If a song is challenging and the high notes out of reach, a unified chorus fills the room in to support that singer and bolster courage. The room claps along and celebrates a well-timed improvisation, and when the song concludes and the performer at last takes a polite bow, many move in to hug and high-five the exuberant efforts. It’s not technically praise music, but it sure feels like worship.

I’d be remiss not to mention that this dive bar is, in fact, a gay bar. As a woman who happily celebrated 19 years of marriage with my husband last week, I recognize that I’m but a tourist in their sacred space. This fact reinforces that the Holy Welcome of this bar is indeed for all: for those inside its unique culture and for the rest of us looking for a place to feel accepted and loved as we are, no strings attached. Wouldn’t it be beautiful if the church did the same?