James calls Abraham by a title nobody else in Scripture quite shares. He believed God, it was counted to him as righteousness, “and he was called the friend of God” (James 2:23, NKJV). The same phrase appears in Isaiah, where the Lord speaks of “Abraham My friend” (Isaiah 41:8).
It is a staggering thing to say about anybody. And if we ask where in Abraham’s story that friendship is most vividly on display, one of the clearest answers is not on a mountain or at an altar. It is outside his tent, in the heat of the day, with flour on Sarah’s hands and a calf being prepared for strangers.
Lunch at Mamre
Genesis 18 opens with Abraham sitting in the doorway of his tent by the great trees of Mamre. It is the hottest part of the day, the time any sensible person rests. He looks up and sees three men standing nearby.
What he does next is not calm. He runs. An old man, in the midday sun, runs to meet them and bows. He begs them not to pass by. He offers water to wash their feet, shade under the tree, “a morsel of bread.” Then he hurries to Sarah and asks for cakes made from fine flour, runs to the herd for a tender calf, and brings curds and milk. The “morsel of bread” turns into a feast.
Only as the story unfolds does it become clear that this is the Lord himself visiting, and that the meal becomes the setting for the promise of a son and for one of the most remarkable conversations in the Bible, where Abraham pleads for Sodom. God even asks aloud, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am doing?” (Genesis 18:17). That is how friends talk.
Friendship with God looks like a set table
There is something very homely about this. The friendship between God and Abraham is not only a private spiritual feeling. It happens in a doorway, around food, with the household involved. Sarah bakes. A servant prepares the meat. Abraham stands by while his guests eat under the tree.
Many of us grew up with this kind of welcome, or with grandparents who practised it. The pot on the fire that always seemed to have enough for one more. The chair pulled out for the neighbour who “just stopped by.” The rule that nobody leaves without at least a drink of something. We may not have called it theology, but it was.
The writer of Hebrews seems to have Abraham’s meal in mind when he urges believers not to forget to entertain strangers, “for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels” (Hebrews 13:2, NKJV).
When the door has closed
Modern homes can make this harder. High walls and electric gates, while often wise, send a message. Busy schedules mean the table is a place for eating quickly, not lingering. Some of us live in small flats where having people round feels impossible. Others have been hurt: the relative who borrowed and never repaid, the guest who stayed six months. We have learned, understandably, to keep the door shut.
None of that is sinful in itself. Wisdom sets boundaries, and safety matters. But it is worth asking whether our homes still have any doorway where someone could be welcomed, or whether we have let the house become a fortress that no one outside the family ever enters.
Abraham’s hospitality was not grand because he was rich. It was grand because it was eager. He ran. He did not wait to be asked. A small household can practise that kind of eagerness with very little: a cold drink offered to the man reading the meter, a plate saved for the elderly neighbour, the church visitor invited home for Sunday lunch, even if lunch is only rice and peas and a little chicken back.
Friends of God make friends at the gate
Jesus told his disciples, “I have called you friends” (John 15:15). If that is true of us, then the quality of welcome Abraham showed is part of our inheritance too. Friendship with God is not only something we receive. It spills over into the way we treat people who come to our door.
We never know which conversation over a shared plate will matter. The neighbour who has been lonely since her husband died. The young man who has never seen a family pray before a meal. The visiting cousin carrying a burden he has not told anyone. God has a way of turning up at tables.
For reflection
- When did someone last eat at your table who was not family?
- What is one small, realistic way your household could make a doorway of welcome this month?
Lord, thank you that you call us friends. Make our home a place where that friendship overflows. Give us Abraham’s eagerness, Sarah’s generosity and the wisdom to welcome well. And when strangers sit at our table, let them find you there. Amen.
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