"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,
who comforts us in all our troubles,
so that we can comfort those in any trouble
with the comfort we ourselves receive from God."
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 (NIV)

Pain doesn't seem to play favorites. The brokenness of life is everywhere and some days I feel so tired. Some days I feel pain in my own life, and some days I deeply sense the pain of others around me. Sometimes I can't help but feel distant from others as I experience the wide chasm of isolation among people caught between worlds, cultures, and perspectives. Sometimes my faith feels weak even though my hope is sustained in the One who has been here all along—the Divine Neighbor.

Years ago, I met a man named Steve. He was in his mid-forties and dying of cancer—the doctor had recently told him he had only a few months to live. Steve reached out to me as a pastor, but we quickly became friends. We met nearly every week, and sometimes we met several times a week. One month turned to another month, and then several more months turned into a year. Steve spoke into my life, prayed for forgiveness over pain he caused in his family, and grew in compassion for those closest to him. He didn't use churchy language and he grew to love God with an honest love, one that only comes from God.

I remember the Tuesday afternoon when Steve asked me to share about Jesus at his poker tournament. How could I turn down the opportunity to speak at a poker tournament? The next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of a packed open bar with a mic in my hand. The energy was electric and the soul of my five-minute message was focused on the essence of relationship. I told the story of the time I played basketball at a tournament in Ivory Coast. The African arena was filled with about 5,000 fans. We knew we were in trouble when we learned that our little hodge-podge unit of former college grads was playing their national all-star team. These guys were good. Really good. One player literally jumped over me for a fast break dunk. I've played ball in many big cities, and I've seen some players. This guy? I saw the bottom of his shoe flying over my head.

We lost.

As soon as the game was over, several thousand people rushed the floor and a small riot began to break out. It felt like our team was about to get trampled by the pushing and shoving and celebrating fans. The police arrived with machine guns and billyclubs and began beating people. That was the moment our team grabbed each other's arms and formed a circle. We held each other up against the wave of the crowd around us, and it was then that I knew everything would be okay.

As I finished the story in that bar, everyone locked arms and surrounded our friend, Steve. Somehow the Divine Neighbor met us that evening at a poker game in an old building off the beaten path, where hard-working people stood beside a man and his family saying, "No matter what happens, we're with you."

Sometimes loving our neighbor is allowing our neighbor to love us.

Not all stories end like that though. I have had to face my futility in the face of incredible pain more often than I care to remember. Like the first funeral I officiated. It was for a stillborn baby of friends of mine. They exemplified a spirit and grace and forgiveness and depth rarely discovered among families. Then there was the moment when a woman from our church called me to share that her husband had committed suicide. What could I tell her? There are no words. And then there was the time a man was crawling around my office floor oppressed by some kind of demon, scratching at the carpeting near my desk with his eyes rolled back. There was the time when my pastor decided to leave everything he knew, including his wife and children. And I can still envision the time when gunfire filled the air in front of my living room, when my neighbor was searching for a place to live and only had a few days to do it, and when my friends experienced racism and somehow found a way to respond with peace and grace.

I could go on and on. The list of stories never really seems to end. Some days I still feel pain that I forgot was there. Why do I still struggle? Why is this same old thing resurfacing after all these years? Crises abound and our ability to breathe takes a concerted energy. I have no easy answers. Most of the time, I will never fully understand the extent of the pain people feel all around me, much less my own. Yet I do know that God knows my pain and the pain of others, more than I could ever begin to fathom. I do know that there is hope and healing and forgiveness, and that I have much to be grateful for as I experience new mercies at daybreak.

There are times when we need to step back and observe what's happening within us and around us. Sometimes we need to slow down and wait, allowing the quiet whisper of the Spirit to rejoice over us with singing. For some of us, we need to be still. We need rest. We need the God of all Comfort to heal us, mending us back together, allowing the Divine Neighbor to love us first. Somehow, God seems to absorb our pain. He meets us in the most obscure moments when we have nothing left, when we don't feel like laughing, or when the well is empty and dry. But Christ doesn't offer the absence of pain. He offers himself. Christ extends a hand as our neighbor as we grapple with the extent of the healing that we need. He also invites us to stand with each other so that together we can discover that, while some experience pain or poverty, others are experiencing joy and celebration.

Joy and pain are more closely related than it seems—the two live side-by-side. They too are neighbors, living in the same zip code, on the same street, and even find each other bound up together in the same home. In all the extremes of life, Christ kneels down and enters our world. In joy and sorrow, we can experience God as the ultimate neighbor, a Divine Neighbor within us and with us at our side. Somehow, the Spirit of God continues the process of healing me when I least expect it, when I discover that another layer to the onion is about to peel back toward the center of my heart. And I come to understand that God hurts with me in my deepest moments of discouragement. I learn to become a neighbor with others when I embrace God as the first and ultimate Neighbor in my life. As I choose to receive the unending love and grace of God, then I am able to show love to others and receive it from them.

The brilliance of Jesus awaits fresh discovery in the open places of our hearts where we find that there is plenty of room for love. It is a relentless love that brings strangers together in strange places like poker tournaments and churches, streets and offices. We in the Western church are one small expression in God's kingdom, and our moment in global church history depends on our smallness—one risk at a time, one breath at a time. One small choice to love leads to greater opportunities to love.

May we be people of action, serving one another with such passion and endurance that the most trying of tasks and the most difficult of times would seem like only a few days to us. May we never stop showing the grace and love of our God to each other. In humility, may we regard each other as better than ourselves, determined to be people of hope in the midst of personal and global crises.

Jesus is leading us into our neighborhoods, standing ready to embrace us in the unknown of our pain and joy. Are you hearing the tune that is being sung for us? When the fullness of God's new song crescendos, joining all of creation with that chorus, " . . . members from every tribe and language and people and nation . . ." then we will know why the law and prophets hang on a command to love—to love God and our neighborhood as ourselves. Let us dream up new ways to live and share and lead and love.

The Divine Neighbor awaits us with open arms.

"Stand at the crossroads and look;
ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
and you will find rest for your souls."
Jeremiah 6:16 (NIV)

Download: The Divine Neighbor (.pdf)

“Until the process of transformation begins in us, we cannot love others as we must to demonstrate God’s love to them.”
Dr. John M. Perkins, Beyond Charity

We’re infected. The love of God is and always will be. And we’re compelled by the outrageous love of God for all people. This love awakens us in the morning. We’re saying yes to this love. We remain focused on this love. Love has no limits, and we long for every person to know the indwelling, expansive life of God.

In a media world emphasizing crises and trauma, we’re convinced that hope is already here among us—hope for the world, our neighborhoods, our families. The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood. And in the likeness of Jesus, we’re called to demonstrate the hope of God’s love right now— on a street near you and me. It’s been said that, “There are no God-forsaken places in the world, just church-forsaken.”

As we work to eradicate poverty, God is transforming us. As we partner to restore local neighborhoods, we’re working out our own salvation into practice—with fear and trembling. God’s heart for beloved community awaits us. And it takes a while. We’re seeking first God’s Kingdom, a life of process. Love can take years to build trust, push back the darkness, heal hearts, and regenerate neighborhoods— even beyond our lifetime. Many have gone ahead to show us the way we should go. Urban elders. Wise counselors. Pastors. Practitioners. Neighbors. The work is challenging, and we face real struggles. And the work is pure joy. Celebration is always in order. And the Spirit’s voice is leading the way as we learn to practice the presence of God.

This isn’t a traditional process. As a part of Focused Community Strategies (FCS), we continue to raise 100% of our funding as a non-profit ministry. We envision healthy blocks in the city where neighbors from all walks of life are thriving together in the peace and presence of God. A block-by-block approach involves everything from church house gatherings to business development strategies, to playing hoops on the block, family dance parties and much more— the whole gospel for a whole neighborhood—right here. And listening is the foundation for love, because everything rests on local relationships. We’re serious about honoring people’s dignity, culture and history. We’re committed to community development, seeking to join with neighbors to restore lives and entire communities.

Why did Jesus originally come to town? How do neighbors see or experience God’s love right here? What do we long for or dream about as neighbors? What are people’s fears and what’s holding us back? What’s at stake? Who’s gone ahead and how can we partner together to strengthen the effort? What are the spiritual implications for all of us? How can we stand together? What questions do we need to be asking?

We invite you co-invest with us in this life-long process. We’re working toward several dreams that we’re praying will soon become reality. And if you’re serious about prayer, will you commit to pray weekly with us? If you’re a connector, will you consider introducing us to a few of your friends? Or maybe you’re a business professional. Will you consider investing a financial gift as a part of our giving community? Or we’d love to have you join our Metro Merge initiative as we seek to establish a business development center. And at the core, we need regular, everyday people to pray and give; a small monthly gift helps to create a steady stream without too many ups and downs. Will you partner with us as we listen to the heartbeat of the city—as we work and pray in the pursuit of God’s enduring love? Let’s spread the contagious love of God with our boots on the ground. We’ve got some work to do.

To learn more, write to riseup@awakenneighbor.com

“If I give all I have to the poor, and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.”
I Corinthians 13

Mister Totem is a friend of mine who happens to be a veteran graffiti artist in the ATL. His work commands respect. We met a few years back after “the big search” when I decided I had to meet the man, the legend behind the sway of the southern streets. For months I kept searching, asking folks all around the city, “Who painted that?” Finally, someone came clean. “Totem” was the name.

After another mad search, a friend of mine pointed me to his website, and I finally was able to get ahold of him. I quickly learned that Totem is a man of integrity and candidness, and his way of engaging people while being fully Totem is marking my life to this day. I’m grateful for the way God is changing me through Totem’s commitment to listening and truth telling. The first project we worked on together was a set of small murals in our neighborhood through an initiative called Metro Merge, and the pure fun of those initial moments seemed to ignite a process of imagination between us. We soon found ourselves exchanging ideas and views on life, walking away with a sense that this was the beginning of a new partnership.

Several years later, Leroy Barber invited me to join him in launching a project called Green My Hood, and we asked Totem to partner with the community of South Atlanta to create one of the largest murals in the city. Totem agreed to be the lead artist. Together, A-towing, Inc, the South Atlanta Civic League, the city of Atlanta and Totem agreed to move forward. Now, months later, the wall is nearly complete.

What I find compelling about this project is that it seems to tap into a practical imagination that God intends to draw out of communities. God’s glory is wide and high, but it also runs deep—right here on the ground where you can taste and see beauty in the streets. Maybe God’s glory is gritty, bearing witness through the imagination of people partnering together. We might call this “interdependent imagination.” What really draws my attention is not only our formal times of “dreaming” or “strategizing” about a goal or mission, but engaging the process in real time, listening to people’s thoughts and dreams as they walk by the wall. Imagination embraces the moment, discovering vision out of the context of life-on-life relationships. I believe the fullness of our creativity is discovered when people who are unlike each other step into the unknown, praying, imagining, and working together.

Imagine that.

“The interplay between prophetic texts heard imaginatively and concrete practice is a defining one for the church that will become more crucial and more difficult, and perhaps more joyous, in time to come.”

–Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination