Love Your Neighbor

 

Love Your Neighbor

Love Your Neighbor - Audio/Visual 

Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that have trespassed against us. And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. (Matthew 6: 9-13)

Neighbors. They aren’t just the people next door, or the ones around the corner. Your neighbor, in its broadest sense, is anybody you meet on life’s journey. That’s the lesson Jesus gave when he told the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25-37. It’s the story of a man who was beaten and robbed and left for dead on the side of the road and as he lay dying, two religious leaders came by and both of them decided to look the other way. The victim might have died were it not for a compassionate traveler who carried him to the next city, got him medical attention and paid the expenses – and he didn’t even live in the neighborhood. It’s God’s definition of a neighbor: anyone you meet on the road of life.

So, let’s try to understand these neighbors; like why your employer is cranky, or why the homeless guy is, well … homeless. They share some common denominators that Jesus listed in his model prayer. “Our Father” – we’re all children in need of a father. “Our daily bread” – we’re all beggars in need of nourishment. “Our debts” – we’re all sinners in need of grace. “Deliver us from temptation” – we’re all strugglers in need of strength. In a way, we’re a lot like Ruth and Verena Cady.

From their birth in 1984, they shared a lot. Like most twins, they shared a bike, a bed, a room and toys. They shared meals, stories, TV shows and birthdays. They shared the same womb before they were born, and the same room afterward. But the bond between Ruthie and Verena went even further. They shared more than toys and treats. They shared a heart. Literally. You see, their bodies were fused from the sternum to the waist. And though they had separate nervous systems and distinct personalities, they were sustained by the same three-chambered heart.

Neither girl could survive without the other, and neither wanted to survive without the other. Thus, with separation not an option, cooperation became an obligation and they learned to live together as neighbors. Take walking for example. When they began to attempt toddling on their own, they developed their own style. Instead of taking turns leading each other, they began to walk sideways, as if in a dance. And they danced in the same direction.

They even learned to compensate for the other’s weaknesses. Verena loved to eat, but Ruthie thought sitting at the table was boring. In fact, Ruthie may have eaten only a half cup of fruit on any given day but that wasn’t a concern because her sister ate enough for them both. They even learned to tolerate consequences for which they weren’t responsible. When one girl was sent to a “timeout,” the innocent party tagged along.

Unfortunately, the twins died within minutes of each other on a languid summer day in 1991. But they still have a lot to teach us. For instance, though we may claim to be autonomous, we really aren’t. Though we may claim to be independent, no one actually is. Like the twins, we’re dependent on each other. Oh, we don’t eat off the same plate, but we’re sustained by the same earth. We don’t sleep in the same bed, but we sleep under the same sky. We don’t share one heart, but we share the same hope for eternity, and the same hunger to be loved. And, like the twins, we share the same Father.

Maybe that’s why the model prayer isn’t addressed to “my father,” or “your father,” but to “Our Father.” “Our Father who is in heaven.” And because he’s Father to all, his house has a lot of rooms. The rooms are large, and the hallways are busy. As you pass through the halls, you brush shoulders with Kenyan tribesmen and Russian peasants and Norwegian fishermen and any other soul who has looked into the skies and prayed, “Our Father.” Though you may not know them, and though you may not even understand them, you are linked to them by virtue of the fact that you share a mutual Father.

But what’s so important about remembering this community? Because before you talk to him, he wants you to be at peace with them. Remember his command earlier in the Sermon on the Mount? “When you offer your gift to God at the altar, and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there at the altar. Go and make peace with that person, then come and offer your gift. ”(Matt. 5:23-24)

It’s as if Jesus envisioned a person going to worship and sees that the person has a gift to give – perhaps it’s an offering, maybe a song or even an act of service. But on the way to offer the gift, the person remembers an unresolved conflict. He thinks of a neighbor he’s offended. Now, the worshiper has nothing against the person, mind you, but the person has something against the worshiper. The result? Jesus’ instructions are clear: before you come to my house, go to his house. Before you give me a gift, give her an apology. Before you give me an offering, give your neighbor an olive branch. Harmony is a cherished ideal in God’s house.

And isn’t it in your own? Sure it is. For instance, parents get it because they’ve been there: a couple of your children are in a cold war. They won’t speak to each other, but one decides to speak to you. He hugs your neck and says, “You’re a good Mom.”

Now, as much as you welcome the compliment, you want his attention focused on resolving the conflict. “The greatest compliment you can give Mom is to make up with your big sister.” Similarly, God is a parent who wants the same from his children. Can you imagine what the world would be like if we took this command seriously? What if we determined to be at peace before we sat in the pews? The phones would be ringing off the hook on Saturday night, maybe even earlier. “Sorry to call so late, but tomorrow I want to worship with a clear conscience and, well, I know I was rude to you this week. Can we talk about it?”

It’s hard to really worship your Father when you’ve been unkind to his children. It’s particularly hard when you don’t even like his kids. In fact, the apostle John says it’s impossible to worship in that state of mind. “If people say they love God, but hate their brothers and sisters, they are liars. Those who do not love their brothers and sisters whom they have seen cannot love God whom they have never seen.” (1 John 4:20) Of course, you can’t control the response of your neighbor to your gesture of peace. Truth is, you may do everything possible to make amends and still be rejected. But at least we can try. As Paul urges, “Do your best to live in peace with everyone.” (Rom. 12:18) A good place to start is by reminding ourselves that we and our neighbor have a lot in common: the same hopes, the same fears, similar pain and similar joys. We’re all children in need of a Father.

When Jesus used the term “Abba” in his prayer, he used the tenderest expression found in Hebrew for a child to use when calling his father. Not a distant, unapproachable father, but an “Abba;” a daddy, a papa whose hand holds ours, whose arms carry us, whose heart weeps when we weep. And it’s in this common need for “Abba” that we find our sense of community because aren’t we all in need of “Abba”? One who will come when we call, extend his hand when we’re afraid, and guide us when we trust.

I know that sometimes we think we’ve outgrown the Father’s hand, or that we’re too mature to need his help. And that may be where your neighbor is right now. He or she may have struggles that only God can understand, that only God can remedy. And they may be hard to like, or difficult to live with. But be patient, just as you would want them to be patient with you. Because it won’t be long before your neighbor looks up and realizes they’re on a busy street with no clue how to get home. It could be then that they may say, “Abba,” and it could be then that you’ll be there to show them the Father’s hand. That’s loving your neighbor.

Grace,

Randy