I’LL ADMIT IT: I enjoy a good superhero movie — and judging by their success at the box-office, I’m not alone. But not all superhero movies are good. I prefer those with a good story that usually involves some kind of growth or transformation. There’s Tony Stark, the rich, egotistical genius who has to be humbled before he finds his desire to keep the world safe as Iron Man. There’s Steve Rogers, the wimpy kid with a good heart who is willing to sacrifice himself to become Captain America. Stories like these foster the pop-culture notion that even ordinary people have some superpower, if only they can dig deep and find it.

Similarly, when we think of the miraculous things God did through Moses, we might read the story in heroic terms. Moses, a relative nobody, confronts the powerful Pharaoh, demanding that he set God’s people free. When Pharaoh refuses, Moses stretches out his staff, Gandalf-like, and deadly hail falls from the sky, or clouds of locusts overtake the land.

Or picture Moses at the shore of the Red Sea, stretching his hand over the waters. The waters part, creating a way for the people to escape from their pursuers. On the opposite shore, Moses stretches out his hand again, and the waters close over the helpless Egyptians troops who dared to follow. Later, as the people trekked through the wilderness, God provided water through Moses when he struck a rock with his staff as instructed. And through Moses, God also gave the people victory in battle.

But the little vignette we read in Exodus 17 backs the story down to a less heroic level. The details are small but important. The Amalekites have attacked the people, and Moses tells Joshua to choose men and meet the Amalekites in battle. Moses, for his part, climbs a hill and stands with his hands extended toward the battlefield. Here’s the story:

So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword. (Exod 17:10-13, NIV)

Who was responsible for the victory? Well, God, obviously. But note that the text says that it was Joshua who overcame the Amalekites. He and his soldiers naturally had a part to play. And so, of course, did Moses, but in a curiously un-heroic way in which his physical limitations were on full display. Like us, he was incapable of standing with his arms raised for hours on end, and who knows — he may have been holding the staff of God aloft as well. Aaron and Hur had to come alongside him to help. If lives weren’t on the line, the situation would almost be comical. They brought him a rock to sit on. Then they stood beside him and propped up his hands all day until the sun went down.

The victory was God’s, but through the agency of Moses, Aaron, Hur, and Joshua’s army. All of them had a part to play, and none of them were superheroes. Moses is the most prominent human figure throughout the book of Exodus, but this story reminds us that he didn’t work alone. He needed support — in this case, literally.

I SAY THIS because I think the story helps us read John correctly. The pragmatic issue at the heart of 3 John is whether Gaius will continue to be the hospitable person he’s already demonstrated himself to be. For him to welcome Demetrius or any of John’s emissaries may put him in conflict with Diotrephes, a powerful person in the community with an unexplained grudge against John. Gaius must choose to either take the risk or bow to the pressure and turn Demetrius away.

How should we apply this passage to our own lives? Is it that we need to become more hospitable, even to strangers, as Gaius was? Well, yes, at least at one level. But we can’t leave it at that, partly because of the word John chooses to describe Gaius’ hospitality. Here again is the text in the New International Version:

Dear friend, you are faithful in what you are doing for the brothers and sisters, even though they are strangers to you. They have told the church about your love. Please send them on their way in a manner that honors God. It was for the sake of the Name that they went out, receiving no help from the pagans. We ought therefore to show hospitality to such people so that we may work together for the truth. (3 John 5-8)

The word that the NIV translates as “to show hospitality” is only used five times in the New Testament, and nowhere else does it have the sense of hospitality. In Acts 1:9, for example, it’s used to describe how a cloud “received” or “took up” Jesus as he ascended back to the Father. In Luke 10:30, it’s used to describe Jesus’ response to the lawyer who challenged him; in a sense, we might say that Jesus “took up the challenge.”

At root, the word suggests someone using their hands to take or hold something from the bottom; metaphorically, it can mean “to carry upward” or even “give support.” That’s why in The Message, Eugene Peterson translates John this way: “So they deserve any support we can give them. In providing meals and a bed, we become their companions in spreading the Truth.” Gaius is providing hospitality to Christians he doesn’t know; he’s giving them “meals and a bed.” But the larger point is that in doing so, he’s giving tangible support to the work of the gospel. And similarly, because the words “meals and a bed” are not actually part of the text, the New American Standard renders John’s words more simply: “Therefore we ought to support such men, so that we may be fellow workers with the truth.”

The translation “hospitality,” in other words, fits the situational context — but is not demanded by the word itself. Indeed, there are other words John could have chosen instead. We’ve already seen 1 Peter 4:9, “Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.” Peter’s word is different; it literally suggests offering friendship to strangers (see also Rom 12:13). Similarly in 1 Timothy 5:10, Paul uses a word for hospitality which means to receive or entertain strangers. Given how John praises Gaius for the way he has lovingly welcomed other Christians into his home even though they were strangers to him, either of these words would have been highly appropriate — but he chooses a word meaning “support” instead.

DOES IT MATTER? I think so. Though we might like to think of ministry in heroic terms, the work of the gospel is not to be done alone. None of us are superheroes, nor are we called to be. Just as Moses needed support, just as Demetrius and others depended on the faithful hospitality of men like Gaius, so too does everyone in ministry need tangible support.

The work of the gospel is a team effort. We shouldn’t go it alone, and we don’t have to be the ones on the platform to contribute. Like Gaius, we can offer the gift of hospitality. Or we can support others financially. And everyone could use the support of faithful prayer.

So think about it: what kind of support might God lead and empower you to give, and to whom?