If Your Neighborhood Could Talk
If Your Neighborhood Could Talk
If your neighborhood could talk, what story would it tell?
My neighborhood would tell the tale of Horace for whom it has been a long time since he was able to stand up straight because of his ailing back. Probably near 80 years old he has spent most afternoons this summer inviting the four kids who live next door to spend time helping him in his garden.
They are home alone most of the day when school is on summer break.
He winks at me as he tells me in front of them how he has no idea what he would do without their help. The truth is, even with his back pain, teaching the kids how to garden slows him down, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He won’t let race or age keep these important friendships from forming.
If my neighborhood could talk it would share the story of a school building that has been closed for years sitting empty at the end of my block. After many prayers, hopes and dreams the school will be reopened a year from now!
The story would include the excitement in the eyes of the new principle that has been hired for the school as she showed up to meet and greet with neighbors at our street’s National Night Out gathering.
She emailed me the next day with anticipation when she realized the connection with The Sheridan Story food program for kids, hoping that a church or community will sponsor Webster School when it reopens.
If my neighborhood could talk it would tell the tale of the marginalized men and women who live in Clare Housing.
They sit in the sun as we eat together each month, telling the woes of the stigma of the disease, HIV, that they all live with. They share with sadness the loved ones who have been lost and utter with disappointment the people who have failed to show these beautiful humans dignity.
If my neighborhood could talk it would tell a tale of young families with strollers, long lines for the bus downtown, ever so slightly shorter lines for the nightly bus to the casino.
My neighborhood would wax eloquent the stories of the 90 year olds who have seen more change then my “younin’ mind” could understand as the have lived on my block for nearly 70 years.
My neighborhood would tell stories of dancing in the street, ice cream socials, Latino soccer clubs filling the park every weekend of the summer.
There would be tales about drug busts and community gardens. Campaigns to keep people in their homes instead of foreclosure. Stories would be told in more native languages then I could count.
If you’ve spent any time around me, you’ve heard some of these stories.
I tell these stories because in the midst of all these tales is the movement of a loving God.
The WORD of God who became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood. (John 1:14 MSG)
Moved into MY neighborhood.
And whether you believe it or not, are looking or not, are seeking this God or not…
God has moved into your neighborhood as well. Long before you ever lived there.
What is God up to there? Will you tell the story?
To finish The Neighborhood Crawl, there is one final step:
Tell the story of God in your neighborhood.
What did you see as your being intentional this summer? Tell the stories of hope, restoration, healing and friendship. Tell the stories of unlikely friends and unexpected experiences.
Tell the story to someone today, perhaps someone who is less likely to believe that the living God is alive on your street. Perhaps they will begin to see what is just beginning to become clear to all of us:
The infinitely loving God is moving towards each one of us!
If Your Neighborhood Could Talk
If your neighborhood could talk, what story would it tell?
My neighborhood would tell the tale of Horace for whom it has been a long time since he was able to stand up straight because of his ailing back. Probably near 80 years old he has spent most afternoons this summer inviting the four kids who live next door to spend time helping him in his garden.
They are home alone most of the day when school is on summer break.
He winks at me as he tells me in front of them how he has no idea what he would do without their help. The truth is, even with his back pain, teaching the kids how to garden slows him down, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He won’t let race or age keep these important friendships from forming.
If my neighborhood could talk it would share the story of a school building that has been closed for years sitting empty at the end of my block. After many prayers, hopes and dreams the school will be reopened a year from now!
The story would include the excitement in the eyes of the new principle that has been hired for the school as she showed up to meet and greet with neighbors at our street’s National Night Out gathering.
She emailed me the next day with anticipation when she realized the connection with The Sheridan Story food program for kids, hoping that a church or community will sponsor Webster School when it reopens.
If my neighborhood could talk it would tell the tale of the marginalized men and women who live in Clare Housing.
They sit in the sun as we eat together each month, telling the woes of the stigma of the disease, HIV, that they all live with. They share with sadness the loved ones who have been lost and utter with disappointment the people who have failed to show these beautiful humans dignity.
If my neighborhood could talk it would tell a tale of young families with strollers, long lines for the bus downtown, ever so slightly shorter lines for the nightly bus to the casino.
My neighborhood would wax eloquent the stories of the 90 year olds who have seen more change then my “younin’ mind” could understand as the have lived on my block for nearly 70 years.
My neighborhood would tell stories of dancing in the street, ice cream socials, Latino soccer clubs filling the park every weekend of the summer.
There would be tales about drug busts and community gardens. Campaigns to keep people in their homes instead of foreclosure. Stories would be told in more native languages then I could count.
If you’ve spent any time around me, you’ve heard some of these stories.
I tell these stories because in the midst of all these tales is the movement of a loving God.
The WORD of God who became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood. (John 1:14 MSG)
Moved into MY neighborhood.
And whether you believe it or not, are looking or not, are seeking this God or not…
God has moved into your neighborhood as well. Long before you ever lived there.
What is God up to there? Will you tell the story?
To finish The Neighborhood Crawl, there is one final step:
Tell the story of God in your neighborhood.
What did you see as your being intentional this summer? Tell the stories of hope, restoration, healing and friendship. Tell the stories of unlikely friends and unexpected experiences.
Tell the story to someone today, perhaps someone who is less likely to believe that the living God is alive on your street. Perhaps they will begin to see what is just beginning to become clear to all of us:
The infinitely loving God is moving towards each one of us!