Who Is My Neighbor?

Have you ever heard of "intentional communities"? Neither had I, until recently, when a friend of mine introduced me to the concept. Intentional communities are made up of people who are convicted to live a life of voluntary service in and among the poor and disadvantaged. It is far beyond charity, it is pure relationship. There is such a community in the city where I live, and yesterday, my friend invited me to come and see for myself, what it was all about. Friday nights are for community meals. So, between getting my house cleaned, doing my laundry and getting Cub down for his nap (twice) I managed to bake a batch of cookies and google directions to where I needed to be. From the address, I knew that it was in a "sketch" part of town. And when I pulled past the place, looking for a parking space, I have to say my first thought was "What the h-e-double hockey sticks am I doing here??" All I saw were faces of people, with whom, it seemed obvious, that I had little in common with. I got out of my van, slipped cub into my sling, grabbed my plate of cookies and set off down the sidewalk. I felt very awkward as I approached the house. I scanned the yard quickly for my friend. I did not see him and so I decided that the best thing to do was to make myself at home. I introduced myself to a lady named Joanie...she and her husband with their young children have made the decision to follow what they believe to be the call of God on their lives and live in a place and among people that are very different from their own culture, ethnicity and social background. And then there was a man there, with a beautiful little girl and he knew me from my days working in a health food store. It didn't take long for me to feel that I was among familiar people...that common ground is as easy to find as saying "hello". I ate good food, met good people, had a good time talking about scripture, gardens, chickens, backgrounds. I stayed there, with my friends, old a new, until it started to rain. Cub and I walked back down the sidewalk, got back in our van and drove back to our world. Back under our own roof and our four walls I felt a happiness knowing that "mission work" isn't always about traveling to some far away country. Sometimes the people who need to be reached are as close as the neighborhood you don't want to drive through and the person to change the most is the one in your bathroom mirror.

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