I had been dreading this visit for months. A trip to the DMV rarely stirs joy. Strife, anxiety, and frustration? Yes. Waiting, wondering, and wishing we could run that office better ourselves seems to be the name of the game.

I’d already had an unsuccessful appointment once before, so this time I came armed with every document imaginable. To sweeten the deal, I tucked a novel into my bag, convincing myself I would turn wasted hours into reading hours.

I walked in ready for a quiet retreat into my book, but what I stepped into was pure chaos. The waiting room was jam-packed, and a confusing line twisted through the foyer. After scanning the sign’s QR code to secure my place in line, I squeezed onto the hard hallway floor with about thirty other weary souls. Unlike the chatter of the main waiting room, this space was silent except for the occasional cough, a phone buzzing, or someone muttering a frustrated question.

Before long, more people streamed through the doors. The QR code quickly became everyone’s enemy, as most had no idea how to check in. Their stress was palpable, and I realized I could help. In that moment, I let go of my dream of uninterrupted reading time and recalled one of the most well-known stories Jesus told — the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

Jesus tells of a Jewish man who was attacked by robbers and left for dead along the road to Jericho. Several religious men passed by, yet only one person stopped to help — a Samaritan, the very enemy of the Jews, and the most unlikely of heroes. He bandaged the man’s wounds, provided for his care, and showed compassion when no one else would.

It’s a story many of us could retell in our sleep, but it is worth pausing to revisit (Luke 10:25–37). Jesus paints a clear picture of who our neighbors are and ends with a charge that is as relevant today as it was then: “Go and do likewise.”

When I was researching for my Bible study, Just Open the Door: A Study on Biblical Hospitality, that simple charge changed everything for me. While I desire for all of us to swing wide our doors, that kind of hospitality doesn’t always come easy. With a “hospitality on the go” mindset, it can occur in the most ordinary and inconvenient places, basically wherever our feet take us throughout the day.

My daily conviction now asks: Who is on my Jericho Road today?

It’s easy to make excuses about why we can’t invite people into our homes, and I’ve made plenty myself. But what about when the Lord brings people right to us — along our Jericho Road? In those moments, we have a choice. Will we cross to the other side of the street, avoid eye contact in the office hallway, or ignore the gentleman who needs help at the DMV? Or will we go to meet the one in need?

They say the third time’s the charm, and it took three nudges from the Holy Spirit before I finally got up off the floor, positioned myself by the QR code sign, and began helping people. It felt awkward at first, but it was far worse to watch one person after another stumble with no idea what to do. I’d been waiting long enough to step in and meet a need.

One by one, I showed people how to use their phones to scan the code. I discovered that some elderly guests had been waiting for over an hour without ever knowing they needed to be on the digital list. I walked them to the desk, explained their situation, and helped get them squared away.

At one point, a gentleman in the hall called out, “The DMV should pay you for becoming their official greeter. You know more than the people at the desk!” The whole hallway chuckled, and I replied, “Well, I think the DMV has turned me into the ‘Queen of Forced Bonding.’ Looks like we’re all going to get to know each other today.”

And we did.

That once-cold hallway slowly sparked to life. I asked one gentleman where he lived, which prompted another woman to share memories of her grandfather’s farm nearby. As I continued asking simple questions, stories revealed diverse backgrounds  — fascinating and heartbreaking.

What struck me most was how eager people were for connection. Soon, strangers were laughing, reminiscing, sharing pieces of their lives, and yes, even bonding over mutual grievances. In that cramped, uncomfortable hallway, I saw loneliness begin to break apart. Smiles replaced sighs. Stories replaced silence. And somewhere between scanning QR codes and swapping local tales, our weary group of strangers became a little community.

It wasn’t the day I had planned. I didn’t get to read a single page of my book. But it was exactly the day the Lord had planned. Interruptions became divine appointments.

Hospitality didn’t happen around my kitchen table that afternoon — it happened in a fluorescent-lit DMV hallway. And it reminded me that the heart of biblical hospitality is about being present, noticing the people God places in our path, and extending kindness right where we are.

The Good Samaritan didn’t plan to encounter a wounded man. But he did. And he stopped. And he made room for a stranger. In the same way, we are called to open our eyes to the “Jericho Roads” we walk every day — whether that’s the DMV, the grocery store, or even the school pickup line.

So the next time you feel the nudge of the Spirit — whether it’s to speak up, lend a hand, or simply listen — don’t brush it aside. Those nudges may be the very opportunities God is giving us to “go and do likewise.”

Who is on your Jericho Road today?