Redemptive Hospitality, Grand Canyon, and a Pillow

Hey Beloved,

A quick update before we dive in—

This spring has been full:

As I write this, I am in Valle, Arizona—about 20 miles south of the Grand Canyon doing a site visit for an upcoming airstream glamping hotel, which I get the privilege to consult on before it launches.

I am gaining more momentum by hosting businesses and leaders through Unreasonable Hospitality workshops.

Working on a few dream projects.

And beginning a meaningful new role part-time with Fellowship of Christian Athletes—leading unique hospitality experiences to serve the servants.

This—of course—joins the wildness of husbanhood, fatherhood, spring kids sports, building a chicken coop, and prepping for the final days before the big 4.0.

And in the middle of it all, a deeper truth has been taking shape.

For a while now, I’ve shared stories and reflections on how hospitality can change people—how it makes them feel seen, safe, even loved.

But recently, I’ve started to see it even more clearly:

Hospitality can be redemptive.

Not just meaningful.

Not just generous.

But healing. Restoring. Rewriting what someone believes about themselves.

Let’s talk about it.

What is Redemptive Hospitality?

A lot of people see hospitality as niceness. Or service. Or aesthetics. Or entertainment. Or a great table spread.

But I’ve been thinking about a deeper form of hospitality—

One that doesn’t just make someone feel good…

But makes them feel whole.

Redemptive Hospitality isn’t about perfection.

It’s about presence.

It’s about noticing what’s been lost or overlooked—

And creating a space where that part of someone can be restored.

It’s subtle. Gentle. Almost quiet.

But it’s powerful.

A Story from Agape Families

A few weeks ago, I attended a spring breakfast fundraiser for Agape Families, an Oregon nonprofit that serves kids impacted by incarceration.

One of the young women who shared had attended their camp almost ten years ago. Her story was raw—growing up with uncertainty, grief, and the quiet ache of being forgotten.

But then she shared something that hit me hard.

It wasn’t the program schedule or the lessons that stuck with her most.

It was a moment. A detail.

When she first arrived at camp, she walked into her cabin and saw something sitting on the bed:

A pillow with her name on it.

That’s it.

A pillow. With her name.

But to her, it meant everything.

She said something of the like, “It was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere.”

That moment—the welcome, the intentionality, the fact that someone had thought of her before she got there—was a turning point.

It was a small act of hospitality…

That flipped the narrative of her life.

That’s Redemptive Hospitality

We often think big transformation requires big gestures.

But the truth?

Redemption often begins with the smallest details.

A name on a pillow.

A seat already saved.

A light left on.

A note that says, “I’m glad you’re here.”

These aren’t just niceties.

They’re signals. Markers. Invitations to a deeper truth:

You are welcome here. 

You are seen. 

You belong.

And sometimes, that’s all someone needs to begin believing it again themselves.

What Does This Mean for You?

If you lead a team, serve customers, raise a family, host dinners, run a church, or show up for your community—this matters.

Redemptive Hospitality isn’t about being flashy.

It’s about being intentional.

It’s about thinking of people before they arrive.

About giving them a reason to exhale.

About offering them something that helps rewrite the story they’ve been told about themselves.

So here’s your challenge this week:

Choose one moment—just one—and redeem it.

Redeem the check-in email.

Redeem the conference name tag.

Redeem the weekly team meeting.

Redeem the front door of your home.

Make it thoughtful.

Make it specific.

Make it feel like a name on a pillow.

Because you never know when your small act of hospitality might be the moment someone remembers for the rest of their life.

Warmly, 

Nathan

P.S. Most leaders want to be thoughtful—but they’re so busy doing “what needs to be done” that they miss the chance to create moments that really matter.

That’s where Beloved Hospitality comes in.

I help leaders and organizations use the Unreasonable Hospitality framework to refine their guest experience, elevate their team culture, and build spaces where people feel deeply seen and valued.

→ [Book a free intro call to see how hospitality can shape your brand, team, and bottom line.]

You don’t have to overhaul everything.

Just begin with one redeemed moment.