Lessons In Neighbour-ology

Don't worry about looking up the Oxford definition of neighbour-ology. It's a term that one of my lecturers used to describe the art of taking seriously the challenge of Jesus' parable of the good Samaritan.

It's also a term I had forgotten about until an experience last Monday night where I undertook an unscheduled refresher course.

I was outside the Southampton Guildhall waiting for the doors to open at the Arctic Monkeys gig I was attending. Being sat down made me a target for a guy who shuffled up to me and asked me if I knew was diabetes was.

Upon hearing my positive affirmation, that yes, I did indeed know what diabetes is, the man pulled out a needle box and began to explain that he had to get home as he had argued with his girlfriend and needed to get home to get the required medication. This was where I came in, as the man was requiring my loose change in order to get the bus home and safely get some medication on board.

I backwards bartered with him, providing the £3 required for the bus fare rather than the £1.50 he was prepared to compromise and ask me for. There followed what appeared to be a look of genuine disbelief that he had found someone prepared to help.

So, for about another ten minutes I felt relatively satisfied and mused on the possibility that this act of grace would somehow start this guy on a journey that would lead him to know the author of grace himself.

And then I saw him again.

This time he was talking to some other people in the queue. The needle box was not being employed this time but change was still being handed across by well meaning gig goers.

I looked at him, determined to engage eye contact and make him aware that I knew I had been lied to.

Eye contact was made, he pulled his hat down over his eyes and shuffled off in a different direction.

And that was when I took the refresher course in neighbour-ology.

Martin Luther King Jr once said of the good Samaritan story, two people walked past the injured man and asked 'what will happen to me if I help', whereas the good Samaritan asked 'what will happen to this man if I don't help'.

I'd got that bit right I think. That if I was being told the truth, there was no option but to help.

But my involvement is simply to extend grace to those who are in need. If they then choose to abuse that, I cannot complain. As pointing the finger quickly points three right back at me as a reminder of how often I abuse the grace of God that has been extended to me by not living in gratitude every moment because of that gift.

The temptation is to become cynical and to start to analyse people asking for help. I can start to judge who I deem worthy of help and minimise the risk of my generosity being abused.

Or I can learn from the concept of neighbour-ology as outlined by Jesus' parable. Everyone is my neighbour. It is not an option to chose who will be my neighbour.

Everyone is.

Everyone.

So, the chances are I'll give again to someone who comes up to me with a need and asks me for money to help them. And no doubt again I'll have further experiences where that help is then treated with disdain. But the alternative is that I live for myself only, refusing to see anyone as neighbours. And then I would develop a cold, cynical heart and would need to be pitied more than any street beggar.

Everyone is my neighbour. There's no option not to help those in need.

On a connected note, there are some links on this blog to organisations who are being great neighbours and living out daily the parable of the good samaritan. I urge you to check them out, maybe there's something you can do today to help them change some lives.

How Things Really Are

I'm convinced that the mirror in Rachel's bathroom hates me with a passion.

You see, when I am at my flat, I am used to the way I appear when I stand before it in the morning whilst I get ready for the day.

And yet when I am visiting Rachel in Bristol, as I am this weekend, I am constantly shocked by the way I look in a different mirror.

This other mirror has clearly not been in discussion with the mirror at my flat.

The mirror at Rachel's is more than happy to mercilessly expose the growing number of grey hairs emerging at the side of my head. It makes my skin look rubbish and my eyes even puffier and bag ridden than I had expected.

It's not always a pleasant experience to be shocked into seeing yourself as how you really look, especially when you have a perception of how you look to others. But it is necessary.

As well as the physical rude awakening yesterday, I had the same experience spiritually at the Good Friday service I went to.

I saw myself spiritually as I really am.

Ugly.

That no amount of hours invested in church related service can change that. Years of theological study cannot change that. Pretending to know and do the right thing cannot change that.

The only possible way that I have any hope of being changed from my spiritual ugliness is through what Jesus accomplished on the cross.

And I'll be forever grateful that He went through what He did.

For my sake.

And yours.

More Writing About Not Writing

I was engaging in what could loosely be described as 'research' yesterday and ended up on a random blog where I located the following sentence:

'I'd like to be a writer, but then I go weeks without writing anything. And I think that I like the idea of being a writer more than I like writing'.

I smiled as I read that.

Mainly because it seems like a sentence that could also apply to me. I wondered that despite the explosion of blogging and people being able to freely publish their own work over the internet and dream that they would be able to do this for a living, how many are actually serious about putting the effort in. Or how many, like me, can manage to work a full day and still be motivated to sit in front of a computer screen after they get home from sitting in front of a computer screen all day.

But, to give an update on the imaginary book that I got so excited about writing in a previous book. I came up with some chapter titles, and a theme for each. And then scrapped them because they were rubbish.

So I'm back to square one.

But then, as my friend Tim used to tell me, everytime you throw something you have made away, you get closer to what you really want to create, even if you don't feel like you are making any progress.