Where is God in your Neighborhood?

My question to you is this: Where does God live in your neighborhood? Have you met Him in passing at a gathering? Have you engaged in small talk to pass the time? Are you so busy creating yourself that you haven’t taken the time to know and love your creator?

This post is a little different for me; it’s more of an allegory than my typical posts. It is a journey through a broken and lonely world that ends in warmth, redemption, and love. We all travel this same road. Some of us are fortunate enough to arrive at the destination faster than others. Unfortunately, some of us never arrive.

I see in my head this timeline of my life stretching from left to right across the horizon. At the far left is the knowledge that God wrote my story before I came into existence. This story is God’s pre-story of my life. His account of my life was to prosper, filled with hope and a future. But as I move along the timeline toward the right, my life story plays out as I lived it. It goes something like this:

I knew God lived in my neighborhood, but I didn’t know which house was His.

As a child, I went to church and knew there was a God, but He was probably busy with some of the other 4 billion people on earth or maybe building the rest of the universe. I wasn’t sure what He looked like or where He lived, or what He did for a living. I didn’t care; I was busy creating my life.

I knew God lived in my neighborhood as I saw Him around once in a while

Later in life, I would see something that reminded me God was there. It was in the clear azure blue skies, the crisp fall mornings, and in the full moon perched precariously above a mountain range. It was a kind voice or a gentle gesture.  I saw God in the complexity of the world He created that seemed to flow so seamlessly. It was like marveling over the beauty and craftsmanship of a Lamborghini Sián Roadster without ever having met Ferruccio Lamborghini.

I knew God lived in my neighborhood because  He talked to some of the neighbors.

Still, later I met neighbors who had met Him and talked with Him. He even did things for them. I didn’t understand why or how, but they were convinced. I thought you had to be His friend to get His time. He seemed like a nice enough guy but had to be busy most of the time. I envied that they knew Him but felt out of His league.

I knew God lived in my neighborhood because we talked from time to time.

Finally, a friend introduced me to Him. He seemed open and receptive; our conversations were superficial, mostly me complaining about something I wanted. Maybe I asked Him why He didn’t fix something, but I never allowed myself to get close enough to Him to see him work. I wanted Him to help me but didn’t expect it to amount to much as I hadn’t done much for Him. Generally, you don’t get something without giving something.

I know God lives in my neighborhood because He took me in.

Then one stormy, rainy night, my house burned down. I stood by the curb in the cold, dark rain and watch the smoke rise. The life I had so carefully crafted came to an end. The things I have stored up for myself vanished. It was God who was there to invite me to live in His home. I lost a house, a shell of myself created to satisfy my worldly lust. What God gave me was a home filled with love and compassion. I have lived there since.

1 Corinthians 3:12-15 “Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw— each one’s work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If anyone’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.”

Great stories always start with great tragedies. We all like the overcoming-all-odds ending, but we skip past the overcoming part. The overcoming takes away from the thrill of victory. If we have to look at the cost, the prize seems a little tainted. We don’t like asking ourselves if the prize was worth the cost. We want to rejoice.

When we come out the other end after a traumatic encounter with our broken world, getting to the end seems less daunting than when we were in the middle of it all.

Where does God live in your neighborhood?

Many of us live ordinary lives that don’t strike us as tragedies. We pay our bills and are kind to animals. We try not to be overly angry, but there are many stupid people in the world. We help when we can, but we have a responsibility for our future too. Life is a compromise.

Job 4:19 “How much more those who live in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, who are crushed like a moth.”

That is the tragedy. When we surrender our will to the author of our lives, we no longer live with compromise. We live in the fullness of the life He created. Don’t wait for a storm. Decide to trust your life and all of its decisions to Christ.

Move out of your house into His home.

Ephesians 2:19-22, “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints, and are of God’s household, having been built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus Himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole building, being fitted together, is growing into a holy temple in the Lord.”