“Every Christian,” said Charles Spurgeon, “is either a missionary or an imposter.” I find that line convicting. Too often, my missionary zeal doesn’t equal my profession of faith.
The pillars of God’s law are twofold. Love God and your neighbors. But after two years in Philadelphia, I didn’t even know who my neighbors were.
I tried to justify myself. I’m a nice person, but Philly is a notoriously unfriendly place. Right?
Wrong. To my shame, I went out of my way to avoid my neighbors. I’d make eye contact with someone in the elevator and ask, “What floor?” but immediately put my headphones in to avoid a conversation. Meanwhile, the inner dialogue starts: Haven’t I seen him before? What’s his name? It’s too late to ask, Dan.
I was stuck. Too unfamiliar to love my neighbors, but too ashamed to become familiar.
I suspect your experience is like mine. Where would I find the motivation to love my neighbor as God commands? Surprisingly, it came through recognizing my great need.
Neighbors Are Hard to Love
According to Pew Research, only 26 percent of Americans know most of their neighbors. About a quarter of adults under 30 don’t know one.
In his book Bowling Alone, Robert Putnam exposed the pandemic of loneliness sweeping across America. He showed how structural changes like the rise of technology, altering work patterns, and shifting roles have contributed to the decline of community. These factors resonated with me and my situation.
But I knew the problem was deeper—it was with my heart.
The reality is that neighbors are difficult. They’re noisy. Some leave their shoes out in the hallway. Some cook food that smells gross. Jesus knew I wouldn’t always like my neighbors, yet he called me to love them anyway, just as he loved me.
I’m the Problem
I want to build my own little kingdom in my apartment. I want to be in control. Not surprisingly, everyone else has the same idea. So, naturally, we gravitate toward people who can help us build that kingdom, people who make us feel good about ourselves. Because we live so close to our neighbors, there’s greater potential for friction.
People who want to be kings and queens don’t like friction.
Our autonomy is viewed as sacred, but nothing reminds us of our finiteness like someone banging on our castle wall, telling us to shut up.
As Dustin Willis and Brandon Clements write, “Many Christians have bought into the cultural view that our homes are our personal and private fortresses.” Our autonomy is viewed as sacred, but nothing reminds us of our finiteness like someone banging on our castle wall, telling us to shut up.
No, the problem wasn’t my environment. I’m the problem in my neighborhood.
What was I to do?
How Do We Repent from Self-Love?
Providentially, God gave me an opportunity to turn over a new leaf when I relocated to Boston. I hatched a plan. I’d write a little note to invite neighbors to dinner, include my contact info, and then attach a small gift card as an innocent bribe.
I felt proud slipping the notes under neighbors’ doors, and I waited for the acclaim to roll in.
My neighbors weren’t as impressed with me as I was with myself. Some didn’t respond to my note or come over for dinner. One was genuinely nice and reciprocated. One came over for dinner and left after 30 minutes.
I was disappointed. Why? Because I’d made the endeavor about me. I’d allowed my desire to love my neighbor to morph into love of self.
Though I’d identified my lack of love, I still needed God to change my motivation. In his book How to Talk About Jesus, Sam Chan wrote, “I once heard Timothy Keller compare our work of evangelism with Elijah’s work of building the altar at Mount Carmel in 1 Kings 18. Elijah built the altar, but it was God who sent the fire. Elijah couldn’t send the fire.”
I’d wanted to pull myself up by my bootstraps and earn an attaboy from above. Like the Pharisee who asked, “Who is my neighbor?” I wanted to justify myself (Luke 10:29). The essence of the good news is I’m simultaneously a failure and loved by God, and the first step toward repentance was admitting I’m needy.
Needy, Not Impressive
We continue to invite neighbors into our home. We’re intentional about doing this even when all we have capacity to offer is delivery pizza. But one additional step my wife and I have taken to lean into our neediness is to take people up on their offers to bring something over. I used to say, “No we’re good”; a statement that revealed more about my perceived self-sufficiency than it did our actual food needs for the evening. But now by remembering how God loved us in Christ, I’m enabled to move toward others with greater honesty and vulnerability.
I made the endeavor about me. I allowed my desire to love my neighbor morph into love of self.
Christ emptied himself, left the impressive majesty of heaven, and became obedient to the point of death on the cross. “It takes a hard and stony heart,” wrote John Stott, “to remain unmoved by love like that.”
1 Thessalonians 2:8 (NLT) says, “We loved you so much that we shared with you not only God’s Good News but our own lives, too.” What a motivation! Fueled by Christ’s love, we share the gospel and our lives. By opening our homes, having vulnerable conversations, and reaching out, we invite people into his kingdom life.
Involved in Women’s Ministry? Add This to Your Discipleship Tool Kit.
We need one another. Yet we don’t always know how to develop deep relationships to help us grow in the Christian life. Younger believers benefit from the guidance and wisdom of more mature saints as their faith deepens. But too often, potential mentors lack clarity and training on how to engage in discipling those they can influence.
Whether you’re longing to find a spiritual mentor or hoping to serve as a guide for someone else, we have a FREE resource to encourage and equip you. In Growing Together: Taking Mentoring Beyond Small Talk and Prayer Requests, Melissa Kruger, TGC’s vice president of discipleship programming, offers encouraging lessons to guide conversations that promote spiritual growth in both the mentee and mentor.
