Loving My Neighbor by Listening

Within the past few years, I’ve heard numerous sermons defining “neighbor” in the “love your neighbor” commandment.  These recent sermons have taken my close-to-home definition and expanded it to a global level, which is a definition I’d rather not have known.

Not that I was doing a great job of loving my neighbors in the apartments around mine (or now the houses around mine), but the commandment, with its new definition, ignited fear within me.  To be terrified of flying and to think that I now needed to somehow force myself to go to Africa to fulfill this commandment made me feel like a failure.  A role I’m not comfortable with.

I also strapped on to this new “neighbor” definition a requirement, in my mind, that I needed to build houses or somehow meet my neighbors’ physical needs in order to love them well.  Not being even the slightest bit skilled in carpentry or masonry, I again felt like a failure, knowing that there was no way I could build houses for these people out of anything more than Legos (and even that may be stretching it).

So to rid myself of those self-defeating thoughts, I went back to what I know:  I know how to listen well. 

On numerous occasions, I’ve been sought out by people I’ve barely met so that they could share their deepest, darkest secrets with me.  I guess I come across as a “safe” person.  And I’ve tried to use this in my job to help people feel like they’ve been heard.  Like what they say matters, even if in the end it doesn’t change their overall situation.

How many people walk around frustrated because they don’t feel heard?  I think the millions of blogs in cyberspace give us an indication that the number is tremendous.  People want their voice to be heard, even if it’s just a random person stopping by to read what’s on their minds.  

Just as Michelle mentioned, I’ve got to get to know people before I can love them well.  For me, I think listening is the first step.  I need to be willing to pay attention to those who aren’t given the time of day.  I need to be willing to stop what I’m doing and lend an ear, even when no one else wants to.  Especially when no one else wants to.

Maybe this is very elementary, but I think that one way I can love my neighbor is by listening.  Now it’s just a matter of being intentional about it.

 

Who is your neighbor and other questions…

When Jesus was asked to clear up the whole “who is your neighbor” question.  He answered in true Jesus fashion.  With a story.  The Good Samaratian.  A tale of an expected enemy caring for an injured man.  I have heard lots of takes and sermon on this parable but all of them are about loving not just the person across the street, or your friends, or the people the same color as you, or the people that believe what you believe but love that is bigger and broader than any of the labels we like to put on people.  Love that doesn’t always come naturally.

Lately, I have been reading a few books that are fleshing out some of the conflicts going on across the globe.   Last week it was, A Long Way Gone: memoirs of a boy soldier  by Ishmael Beah.  It is a firsthand account of an orphaned boy struggling for survival amidst the recent conflicts in Sierre Leone.  Although the civil conflict has been officially declared over, there are still unspeakable things going on in Africa and millions of residents whose lives will never return back to “normal”.  Currently I am wrapping up Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. Greg is working in Pakistan and Afganistan to build schools, especially for young girls.  He is single handedly fighting terrorism with books instead of bombs.  Reading these accounts has made me question what contributions am I making? 

Ironically, I am supposed to post this week about “loving my neighbor”.  Most weeks I would think Jesus was trying to tell me that these stories going on across the globe aren’t quite as far removed as I might think.  These are my neighbors and now that I know their stories I can’t ignore them. 

I won’t ignore that conviction, or at least that won’t be my intentions but a stronger conviction resonates within me when I try to come up with a blog posting about loving my neighbor.  I don’t know them.  You know, my real across-the-street neighbors.  I think God wants me to tackle my own street before/or in addition to becoming an activist for a cause across the globe.

Growing up I knew everyone’s name on my street.  Sadly, most or them were older and didn’t have kids my own age but that didn’t stop me from slipping into their house for a snack and knocking on their door trying to sell them my girl scout cookies.  Even in college there were probably 20+ girls on my dorm hall and I knew almost every one of them. I could have told you all where they were from. The brand of shampoo they left in the showers and most of their majors, who was in what sorority and who had boyfriends back home.

In comparison, I have lived in my current house for almost 6 years.  There are only 9 houses on my cul-de-sac and I have only stepped foot in 3 of them.  I know less than half of their names.  I know only what my immediate next door neighbors do for a living.  I have occasionally asked to borrow an egg.  I have babysat a time or two in a pinch.  I have a picked up mail once or twice.  But I am worlds away from community.  Somehow the task of getting to know my neighbors seems harder than sending a check to Pakistan.  It is more impressive to tell my friends or people at my church about my passion for children in Africa, than it is to pause to chat with my neighbors while my hands are full of groceries and trying to chase my three year old out of the street. 

A question that should be paired with “who is my neighbor?” is “do you know them?”.  Whether they are across the street or across the globe.  What are their needs?  What is their story? I can’t begin to love my neighbors until I know them.

 

Writing Space

Being a Type A personality, I realize that I have a few control issues.  I’ve come to grips with that and have been trying to see how that plays out in different areas of my life. 

With regard to my writing, I thought my control issues were related to constant editing–a desire to have sentences properly constructed and punctuated.  And then I came across this on p.161 in Writing Down the Bones Freeing the Writer Within by Natalie Goldberg:

Some people are afraid of space and so fill every nook and cranny.  It is analogous to  our mind’s fear of emptiness, so the mind constantly stirs up thoughts and dramas.  But I think it is different with a writing space.  A little apparent disorder is an indication of the fertility of the mind and someone that is actively creating.  A perfect [writing] studio has always told me that the person is afraid of his own mind and is reflecting in his outward space an inward need for control.  Creativity is just the opposite:  it is a loss of control. 

Well, no wonder I often struggle with coming up with something creative!  My writing space could have its picture beside the word “organized” in the dictionary.  It is the antithesis of “loss of control,” and thus creativity. 

I feel better (more in control) when things are organized and had thought that this would allow my brain to concentrate on writing.  But maybe a splash of color or putting some objects other than books and a computer on my writing desk would fuel some creativity. 

What does your writing space say about you?  What have you done to make it a place where creativity ignites?

 

Today’s Menu…

One of the things this group has helped me do is to just say it.  To say that yes, I am a wr..wri…writer.  No, I’m not going pro anytime soon, but after years of denial, it feels so good to finally be around like-minded women who share my passion.  Still, though, I don’t share this with any Joe-shmoe. 

So last weekend we went swimming over at our new neighbor’s house.  We were doing the normal get-to-know you chit-chat when the guy and I started to talk about films.  He seemed to have quite a bit of knowledge when I said, “Yeah, I’m a writer.”  Actually, I’m sure I threw in a “kind of” before the “a writer” part, but nonetheless, I got it out.  And boy did it feel good…for about 1/10 of second when he replied, “Oh yeah, my Dad’s a writer.”  Hmmmm.  “What does he write?”  I asked.  Turns out this guy’s Dad is a legendary screenwriter, producer, and did I mention…an Oscar-winning documentary filmmaker!!  Right.  Ok, did I just tell this guy I was a writer? 

Ok, I know I’m still a writer and this is a God-given passion.  I know that I need to just learn from those who have walked before me. . . I know, I know, I know.  But that was a BIG bite of humble pie and as bitter as it always tastes, it usually keeps me from going back for more.  I don’t want to cower in the midst of more serious writers, more successful writers, but like some of us say in our group, “Who am I kidding?” 

How do you all react to more successful writers?  Do you ever find yourself “playing down” your writing to those people?  Share a humbling moment

 

 

Adding Hope

I caught the end of a piece playing on a classical radio station recently.  Afterwards, the announcer described the piece as having an “added sixth,” which he said that composers often used to hint at eternity.   The last note of that piece kept gnawing at me because, just as the announcer had explained, it denoted a hint of eternity or hope beyond the end of the piece.

I took piano lessons for eight years and didn’t remember the “added sixth.”  I jolted my memory with a little online research and found that it is the ”[m]usical term invented by the French composer Jean-Philippe Rameau to describe the addition of a sixth from the bass to a subdominant chord when it is followed by the tonic chord.”  Basically, an A added to the C-Major chord of C-E-G.  (If you have a musical instrument nearby, play this and see what you hear.)

With that explained, I began to wonder how this interesting concept could be translated to written works other than music.  I liked how that one little note, added to a piece filled with other notes, left the listener wondering.  Hoping.

When I write, I want to give readers hope.  Not just a hope, but THE hope that comes from Christ.  But I don’t want it to be formulaic or a repeat presentation of the Gospel over and over again.  I want it to be like that one added sixth, which isn’t the same note for every piece.   For creativity like that, I have to depend on God’s guidance.  And although I don’t know what the “added sixth” will look like for my pieces, I look forward to seeing what God provides.

In what ways have you been able to add a bit of hope or hint at eternity in your writing?

 

What’s in your bag?

I recently finished a book called Bringing Home the Prodigals by Rob Parsons as a part of a blog tour for the book. For me, this book was a great reminder of our role in the church body, and how we can serve both parents (or loved ones) of prodigals and prodigals themselves.

I highlighted this particular point in the second chapter of the book:

The truth is that many of us carry a little bag on our backs. It is labeled “How to Be a Good Christian.” The bag contains, among other things, the way we have been taught to worship, to tithe, our attitude toward alcohol, the way we use our money, the movies we see, the way we think we hear God’s voice, and our attitude about politics. In my more foolish moments I kid myself that I have managed to lose the bag - that I am now free of it - but the truth is the old bag will not so easily be laid down. Each of is tied more closely to our culture than we can possibly imagine. The great danger, both to myself and others, is when I decide to put my bag on the shoulders of another Christian.

As writers, we often seek to teach Biblical truth or encourage others in their faith through our writing. How can we guard against putting our “bag” on the shoulders of another Christian?

 

Double Dose

 

I missed my last posting….so thought I would double up this time to make up for it.

DELETE

I am not big on editing ( as maybe I have mentioned before).  I brain dump when I write.  Kind of like the pensive Dumbledorf has in the Harry Potter series. I write to remember, to process and hopefully connect.

But even a girl like me is fond of the delete button.  I can’t tell you the number of blogs that have been erased before ever making it on to the world wide web.  It makes me miss the old fashioned journal a bit.  There was no deleting there.  It all remained.  The good with the bad.

I hit delete for different reasons. Because I can’t get the words out quite right.  Because I am afraid to offend.  Because it isn’t as good as my friend’s postings.  Because I am not sure will know relate to what I am talking about and confirm that indeed I am some kind of freak. Because I am afraid it stinks.

I’m sure you can see the common theme. Fear. Hitting delete is far easier than facing these fears.  I wonder what kinds of wonders real writers curmpled up and threw in their trashcans?  Yes, some of what comes out is junk. Even from the best of us……….and maybe not every little thought deserves to go up on my blog ( or even worse this writers group one)…..but fear should not be the deciding factor.

Ready for the irony?  I am running out of things to say here and questioning this post in the first place.  The delete button to my right is looking really tempting.   I will leave it, even if this is not my “best” work so that the rest of you will think twice about hitting delete. 

A DIFFERENT VIEW

Our titles define how we see things.

Our eye adjusts to the names we call ourselves.  Christian. Mom. Friend. Daughter.  If I am watching a movie as a mom, I notice every cuss word.  If I am out with a friend, I am just as likely to let a few slip.

One of my good friends recently took up photography and we keep talking about having a good eye for shots, lighting, moments and so on.  A good camera can only get you so far.  Your eye has to do the rest.  This is true of all artists.  Especially writers.  My finished product may not be a visual one but it all begins with a writer’s eye.  When I am writing consistently moments happen differently.  I seem to notice more details.  Remember funny phrases and process my emotions simultaneously.  When I am not writing – sometimes they just happen.  I might remember them later.  I pay more attention when I take in a scene or event as a writer, in addition to whatever other role I am playing at the time.  Even the mundane boring moments can find richness and depth that I would not have noticed otherwise.

I often think,   “I should blog about this” and my writing eye kicks in.  Unlike the photographer I am not hiding behind a lens.  I am in the middle of it, trying to memorize as much of it as I can.  I don’t always remember to get it down on paper………but the experience is always enhanced. 

Is this the norm?  Do the rest of you see things differently when you are writing consistently or is your “eye” just always on?

 

 

Saved From A Writer’s Nightmare

Last week, I took my computer in to get fixed because it had been acting a little funny.  With the one-year warranty date rapidly approaching, I figured the computer just needed a little tweaking.  Like a car needing a tune-up.  Little did I know that the diagnostics that the computer geniuses would run would cause the computer to comletely crash.  Only after I heard that my computer had died did I realize that I hadn’t been routinely backing up my documents.  For MONTHS.

Thankfully, one of the computer geniuses revived my computer briefly.  Long enough to allow me to back up all of my pictures and documents.  I was so thankful not to have lost the past year’s worth of writing.

That experience has made me think about how I can get into a habit of backing up my documents on a more regular basis.  I can write myself a note and stick it to my computer screen as a reminder, but I was wondering if any of you have fun tips for remembering this important, but often overlooked, part of the writing process.

 

No more excuses

I’ve been reading a book called Never Say Diet by Chantal Hobbs, and one of the keys she shares to achieving sustained healthy living is to stop making excuses. She encourages her readers to recognize that all of the reasons they give for not exercising - as justified as they seem in our brains - are just excuses. And we need to stop allowing excuses to keep us from achieving the healthy body and lifestyle we desire.

As I mentioned last time, when we have a passion and desire to write, we should exercise that gift. As I thought through this lesson of not making excuses, I began to see how it applies to other areas of my life. Time is my number one easy excuse for almost everything, and yet I find time to blog, watch TV . . . even make lists. If I see exercising my gift and passion to write as an issue of stewardship, then no excuse is worth burying that talent in the ground (Remember Matt 25:26?).

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that exercising this gift of words looks the same in every season. For now, it may be journaling, writing a blog post a week, or jotting down ideas for the future. But for some it might be actually setting word count goals, writing a magazine article, or drafting a proposal. Or perhaps it is reading really great books or attending a conference or training.

But before we get there, we have to overcome the mountain of excuses we let pile up between us and our passion to write.

So what’s your excuse?

 

My Blogging Hang-ups

Not that you could tell from my own blog, but I really do think blogging is the coolest.  It’s like driving by someone’s house and looking thru their windows at night.  You get a glimpse into their life and boy is it good…most of the time.  But I suppose I’ve always been the person to close the curtains when the sun goes down and the lights turn on so that no one gets that little glimpse of me.  Call it privacy, insecurity, whatever you’d like; it’s just hard for me to let people into my private world. 

I really only set up my blog because this Writer’s Group made me.  Joking, of course, but it was hinted at strongly.  :)  I don’t want my blog to be a theme like motherhood or spirituality or film reviews or politics - all of those things are me, but I don’t want to compartmentalize myself with my writing.  I am all of those things and not limited to any of them.  And essentially, blogging is just for fun for me.  I have bigger projects that I want to work on, so when I blog it’s really more of an antecdote.  You would think it would be easy to find something to write about, and it is, but I often think, “I should blog about that,”  and don’t.  Maybe I think the post would be dumb, maybe it would offend someone, maybe it would just sit out there in space and not get any comments like a bad haircut…or maybe I just wait too long to write and it seems irrelevant later. 

The question to fellow bloggers…Do you have hang-ups about posting?  And how do you remain consistent about posting?