Welcome Stranger

The Year a Stranger Became a Passenger in My Car

A stranger is someone who is unfamiliar to us or our surroundings. To move toward xenophilia, a love for strangers, rather than xenophobia, a fear of strangers, we must learn to walk in another person’s shoes. After all, every one of us has been a stranger at some point in our lives.

In Fear of the Other, William Willimon, professor of practical Christian ministry at Duke Divinity School in North Carolina, describes the fears we carry toward those we label as “the other.” He writes about how our differences in race, gender, sexual orientation, and religion can lead to suspicion instead of curiosity and compassion.

Willimon writes, “Our problem is not that we fear; it’s that our fear is often misplaced, and that we sometimes fear excessively.” He continues, “Too much fear is the problem, as we allow our lives to be dominated by the avoidance of evil rather than the pursuit of good.”

Even neuroscience affirms this tendency. When we encounter someone new, the brain immediately begins to assess whether the person might harm or help us. In a matter of milliseconds, our minds are deciding if an interaction will minimize danger or maximize reward. We judge instinctively, long before we choose how to respond.

If the brain senses that a person may offer something good, we naturally move toward them. If that person feels like a potential threat, we pull away. Meeting new people requires mental work, so most of us retreat into the safety of what is familiar and predictable.

We often fear “the other” not because they are dangerous, but because we have not invested the effort to move toward those who look, think, or live differently than we do. Without curiosity and engagement, unfamiliar people remain strangers, and strangers remain untrusted.

With intentional effort, we must challenge our brains, bodies, and hearts to stretch beyond our comfort zones. We need to seek conversations with people who hold different stories and come from different social classes, skin tones, political parties, sexual orientations, and faith traditions. When we move toward others instead of away from them, we begin to understand their experiences. We may even earn the privilege of sharing our own.

Paul reminds us to make room in our lives for others, not out of obligation but out of Christlike love: “Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” Romans 15:7 (New Revised Standard Version)

Cold Weather Shelter held at Westminster Presbyterian Church, Waynesboro, Virginia

I remember one of the years when the church where I serve as pastor hosted our community’s thermal shelter. I walked into the social hall, wrote my name under the column marked “Volunteer,” and placed a “Hello” name tag on the upper left side of my chest. Over the past week, I watched the room slowly transform from a fellowship hall into a bedroom for neighbors without homes.

That first night, I noticed a guest with long, straight hair and a gentle demeanor. Mary (not her real name) spoke softly at the dinner table and spent her evenings quietly knitting on her bed. At the end of her weeklong stay, she handed me a thank-you card addressed to the congregation. Inside were folded one-dollar bills and a handwritten message:

The week was so nice, restful, with fun moments. Thanks for bringing us some Christmas cheer and inviting us to the service. Thanks for making your efforts personal to meet the needs of us at this time—a task that wasn’t yours. You are saving some lives in the difference made. I’m sure God above all sees this and will not forget. I hope you and your families are blessed and that you will enjoy your Christmas times this year too. Here is a small offering from a little extra I have right now—for all the toilet paper and second helpings. Just a little gesture, I know. Thanks again.

Mary and I stayed connected throughout that December as the thermal shelter rotated between churches. Guests arrived by 6:00 p.m. and had to leave by 7:00 a.m. each morning. I offered Mary rides from rural churches back to her daytime spot downtown. Most mornings it was just the two of us, though sometimes my daughters or our dog rode along. During those rides, I began to learn about her hometown, her family, her faith, and her previous work.

When I discovered she had worked as a professional house cleaner, I immediately thought of my own house that could use some attention. I asked if I could pay her to clean, and she agreed to work for minimum wage. She approached her work with remarkable care, even cleaning the woodwork on my dresser with a toothbrush. I invited Mary to come inside on cold days, even when there was no work to do, but she always politely declined.

As seasons changed, so did our connection. When the shelter season ended, she no longer needed rides, and we gradually lost touch. Yet Mary had already left a lasting impression on me and my family. I noticed it most when my children shifted their prayers from “the homeless” to praying for people without homes by name.

Those car rides and cleaning days became a sacred time in which both Mary and I made space for faith conversations and support of one another. We each offered what we had to give, and in exchange, we discovered the gift of companionship. Welcoming a stranger into your life is not always practical, but when heart, mind, and spirit align, it can be a holy act worth the risk.

So the next time you wear a volunteer name tag, consider the deeper invitation. The task in front of you may be more than service. It might be the beginning of a mission.

Prayer: God of welcome and warmth,
Thank You for meeting us in unexpected faces and unfamiliar places. Open our eyes to the sacred possibilities within simple acts of service. Teach us to see beyond tasks and into relationships. Move us from fear to mission, from obligation to love. May our hearts welcome others just as You have welcomed us. Amen.

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Our church will host the cold weather thermal shelter next week, December 15–22, 2025. We still need a few more volunteers, especially toward the end of the week, to provide breakfast, lunch, or dinner, to visit with the 30–50 guests in the evenings, or to stay overnight alongside a W.A.R.M. staff member. If you would like to help, please click here to view open spots, sign up, and be part of making someone’s Christmas season a little brighter this year.

Serve and Love Well,
Rev. April H. Cranford