Jim Moberg is a saint. You may have never heard of him, but he’s a saint nonetheless, and I say that, beautifying him, because he has taken hospitality to a saintly level.
At Jim’s place, what’s his is yours. Need a bed? Done. Need a meal? Pull up a chair. Need some conversation? You got it. Need an internet connection? Plug in.
This hospitality thing in Jim’s life could have come from good genetics, but it didn’t. His gift came from a new birth – a second birth. If he were so bold, Jim would tell you that he’s generous because he’s been the recipient of God’s love, forgiveness, and grace.
His face may never adorn a cathedral’s façade, but that doesn’t matter to Jim. He may never receive a Nobel for showing warmth and kindness, but Jim won’t lose any sleep over it. He’s got something better than fame or reward. He’s got satisfaction. What Mick Jagger complained he could “get no,” Jim has by the boat load. And he’s hospitable for the best of reasons. Jim’s a Jesus freak.
When he reads this – my tribute – Jim’ll blush a little and say, “It’s no big deal.” But it is. It is a big deal, Jim! You enrich the planet. You model the love and grace of God. You’re a good friend. If you worked on your ping-pong, you might be perfect. Ha! Kidding aside, I wish Jim could bottle his version – his recipe – for hospitality. You’d love its taste. It goes down sweet and smooth, and refreshes its recipients to the bone.
Good for you, Mobes! You’re the best.
Oh, and can I come back?
(St. Mobes is the guy on the right … with Ryan, Brandon, and me)