How to More Than Just Survive the Zombie Apocalypse

My wife and I have kinda been binge-watching a zombie show the last few weeks. After we get the kids to bed, we're like two codependent junkies. “Just one more episode,” has become our notorious last line. The story is driven by a group of average people who find themselves in the midst of a global zombie outbreak. Their old lives are only a distant memory, as they are now preoccupied with the more pressing and all-consuming task of staying alive. In many cases the individual members of the group have nothing in common beyond their catastrophic circumstances, but they are firmly unified and mobilized by their shared objective. They must work through their differences, forgive, and resolve their conflicts because their weightier task compels them to band together. Their marital conflicts, parental teaching moments, and occasional leisure times and impromptu celebrations must happen in community and on the go, while scavenging for supplies, defending each other against the undead, strategizing, and constantly moving forward. Throughout their extraordinary ordeal they inevitably become family. Those of us who have succumbed to the gospel are similarly caught up into something far bigger than ourselves (and there really is no way to smoothly transition from zombies to the gospel). Our entire outlook should be completely shifted. According to Scripture, we live in a world filled with the walking dead, but we’ve also been entrusted with the Cure for the zombie apocalypse. 

Most Christians are familiar with Jesus’ Great Commission (recorded in Matthew chapter 28). There is some discussion among Greek scholars as to whether Jesus is commanding his disciples to “go” or if he is just assuming that they will be going (something like “as you go...”). I am unqualified to settle this linguistic debate, but it seems irrelevant to me if in either case Jesus is expecting forward movement. What comes after is, I think, very clear (and only a heart of disobedience could muddy it). We are told to “make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything [Jesus has] commanded [us].” Thankfully Jesus promises to be “with [us] always” in this endeavor. Far from mere survival or escapism (like in the zombie show), we are given a triumphant and redemptive kingdom task. We are charged with declaring and demonstrating the victory and boundless jurisdiction of our liberating King—who is waking the dead to life—and his coming kingdom. The urgency and the centrality of the mission are similar to that of the folks in the zombie saga, but the rewards and dangers are infinitely greater. 

As followers of Christ, we are not to be consumed (totally fits with the zombie theme) by the cares of the world. We are instead to be captivated by his better kingdom and driven by his heartbeat to seek and save the lost. Like the folks in the zombie show, we find ourselves in extraordinary circumstances. We must recognize the dangers of being complacent or unengaged. “The time is short,” says the Apostle Paul. “From now on those who have wives should live as if they do not; those who mourn, as if they did not; those who are happy, as if they were not; those who buy something, as if it were not theirs to keep; those who use the things of the world, as if not engrossed in them. For this world in its present form is passing away.” (1 Corinthians 7:29b-31). Likewise, Jesus explained to his would-be followers, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26). Are Jesus and Paul telling us to neglect and/or despise our families, to just suck it up when we’re grieving, and to never celebrate or smile in the good times? Clearly they are not. Elsewhere Jesus famously commands us to love even our enemies, and Paul says that husbands should love their wives as “Christ loved the church” and warns that Christian men who fail to provide for their family are “worse than unbelievers” (Ephesians 5:25 and 1 Timothy 5:8). Jesus also wept with those experiencing grief and celebrated with those who were rejoicing. It seems then that Jesus and Paul are describing a devotion to Christ and his kingdom that supersedes all other relationships and obligations, a kingdom perspective that causes us to hold loosely to our physical possessions and personal safety. Jesus warns, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). Our families, jobs, finances, and leisure time can be huge blessings and potential assets on the journey, but they are not to become distractions or idols that draw our hearts away from the mission. 

It's so easy for our schedules to become filled up with school activities, soccer practice, work deadlines, hobbies and leisure (this is coming from a guy who just confessed to binge-watching a television show). Our hopes and dreams start revolving around our upcoming family vacation, a new car, promotion at work, a sport’s season, or retirement. With our short-sighted vision, our prayers also become limited to requests for parking spaces when we're running late, escape from suffering and illness, clarity from God regarding which new house he wants us to buy (and that he'd give us a great deal), and a miraculous transfer to another division for our hard-to-get-along-with supervisor or coworker. How silly (not to mention dangerous) it would be for the zombie show’s survivalists to go about their lives as if nothing had changed, to pretend that they weren’t surrounded by immense death and decay. 

I think our intentions are good. In many cases, we just don't know any other way. We tragically may not even know what we said “yes” to when we decided to follow Jesus. Several of us responded to another gospel—the popular Americanized gospel of personal salvation, isolation, and eventual extraction—instead of the gospel of the kingdom of God that Jesus and his apostles preached. The latter gospel, the true gospel, is a bigger story that doesn't end after we say “the prayer.” It's a story of rescue and restoration, in which we not only become recipients but also participants in his ambitious redemptive plan for our neighborhood, our city, and the world. It’s about Light heroically crashing into a dark world, transforming once-agents of darkness into his light-bearers, and commissioning them to spread out and shine in every dark corner. It's an extraordinary story that requires the presence and power of the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead. There are important rights and responsibilities that accompany our kingdom citizenship. The Holy Spirit was not given to us merely so we would have a supernatural leg-up while investing in all the same mundane things that our not-yet-believing friends, family, neighbors, and coworkers are pursuing. “Something is wrong,” says Francis Chan, “when our lives make sense to unbelievers” (Crazy Love). 

It's not that we will no longer be participating in any of these things. We still need to work, raise our kids, and buy stuff. Rest and leisure are also useful blessings from God. But these ordinary rhythms of life have the potential to be dramatically transformed when our vision aligns with his. The Holy Spirit will begin to organize our time and resources in a way that promotes his agenda and not ours (After all, we’ve died to ourselves, right?). We’ll start seeing great opportunities to make room at our dinner tables and to open up our homes to those who are presently far off (holidays, birthdays, and various other celebrations become natural occasions for this to happen). We will notice how we can actively bless our kids’ classmates and their classmates’ families, teachers, and coaches by serving and inviting. In God's story, there is a “good infection” (to borrow C.S. Lewis' term)–the Cure—that can be transmitted in close proximity from the living to the dead. We may begin to view ourselves as “disciple-makers” who work for FedEx, “priests” who are also dental hygienists, “ministers of reconciliation” who tent-make as contract lawyers, and “ambassadors” of his better kingdom who are assigned to teach kindergartners. Once we've caught his vision, there's no going back. Our aspirations, prayers, priorities, hopes and dreams will quickly and organically start reflecting our changed hearts. 

The 1st Century followers of Christ seemed to understand what they were saying “yes” to. They certainly weren't perfect. The Holy Spirit had his metaphorical hands full dealing with their deeply entrenched prejudices, legalism, bad theology, and immorality (pretty much the same stuff he's still working with the Church on today). But they seemed to have caught the vision of God's kingdom and Jesus' radical agenda. Ordinary and unnamed followers of Christ, tent makers, merchants, tanners, soldiers, slaves, and business owners banded together to carry the good news of God's kingdom to the ends of the earth. The ground they covered, the obstacles they overcame, is nothing short of miraculous and a testament to the Spirit-led life. Aquila and Priscilla were among many Jewish Christians who were expelled from Rome by an unjust edict. They lost their home and business and became wandering refugees. But they didn't let these setbacks stop them. They didn't lose sight of their calling. They continued to share the good news in everyday life as they rebuilt in Corinth. We're told in Acts how they partnered with Paul and opened up their home for ministry. And they didn't get too comfortable. We read how they packed their life up and moved on again when an opportunity to serve with Paul in Ephesus presented itself. An anonymous multitude of transformed Christ-followers stubbornly stayed the course amidst extreme persecution. They gave generously and recklessly out of their poverty. They practiced lavish hospitality both to their spiritual family and to outsiders. They were clearly not living for anything this world had to offer. Their prayers were not for comfort or safety but for boldness to preach the gospel, for courage to suffer well, and for power to take more ground. As a result, they “turned the world upside down” (Acts 17:6). 

I know there are times when we feel like we're barely surviving. We may feel the zombie hordes pressing in on all sides. The weight of living in a dark world, of “fighting the good fight,” can seem overwhelming. Our own fears and failings can be crippling. But this is not the time to abandon the mission. Something has gone horribly wrong when the living start envying the dead. In these times we must press in even more to Jesus, and rally with the church. We must remind ourselves that our inheritance is not of this world. “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead,” says Jesus (Matthew 8:22). The concerns of the living should be drastically different from the concerns and preoccupations of the dead. 

This is what I want for my family, my church, and my neighborhood. I want to live this paradoxical life-abundant in community through service to others and death to self. As Jesus said, it is only when we give our life up that we truly live. Ironically, it is in “wartime living,” when we are giving of our time and resources sacrificially, that the celebrations become sweeter, the bonds of friendship deeper, and the victories more meaningful. I have what I think is a healthy fear of slipping into apathy, so I beg my fellow Christ-followers to keep me on track when I lose the vision, when I settle for the things of the world. We need each other. I also want to partner with my spiritual family members who are urgently seeking the kingdom of God among the unreached and unengaged in cross-cultural contexts around the world, and I want to see our interconnectedness as we labor together toward the same end. I know that I could hunker down, wait for the return of Christ, and live an empty life full of common things. But I will have missed out on the adventure of a lifetime. It's the one who seeks to save their life, explains Jesus, who loses it in the end. Those who have yet to meet Jesus are still dead in their sins and stumbling around aimlessly, pursuing their destructive and insatiable appetites for lesser things (my last zombie reference, I promise). How confusing it must be to them when our lives resemble theirs. I don't want to work the kingdom into my busy life; I want to let Jesus build my life around his kingdom agenda.

“…let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith” (from Hebrews 12:1 and 2).

 

   

The House that Jesus Built (is Building)

 

 

If you grew up in church culture like I did, chances are you had a moment in which you were instilled with awe for “God's house.” Maybe it was when you were maniacally running through the “sanctuary” (not really sure why we call it that, by the way) or “worship center.” Perhaps you were gently instructed to show proper respect for “the house of the Lord.” My family and I would “go to church” every Sunday morning and at various other times throughout the week for midweek Bible studies, youth group, potlucks, game nights, Awana, VBS, rummage sales and so on. God loved having people over. If you knew someone who needed to meet Jesus, you would bring them to church too. Of course I understood through Biblical teaching that God was everywhere and lived in my heart, but it was also strongly implied through our behavior that the building was where we were the church and where all important church stuff took place. Don't misunderstand me; I'm not a bitter ex-church kid. I loved hanging out at “God's house.” I think there are a lot of good things going on—genuinely redemptive activities—in the typical, building-centric, church model. As I look through Scripture, though, I can't help but wonder if there could be another model that more closely embodies Jesus' intent for His Church.

“You are not the one to build me a house to dwell in,” was God's response to King David's well-intentioned offer to build Him a sweet pad (1 Chronicles 17:4b). Ever since the tragedy of Eden, God has given us glimpses of His endgame to once again dwell among humanity. He symbolically represented His presence among His people, for example, with various structures and artifacts. The first God-house was designed by Him to be extremely mobile. He is a God on the go, after all. By the time of David's reign, the people of Israel had been in the promised land for generations. It seemed like the perfect time to go all out with an upgrade to God's house. After God politely declined David's offer, He made the shepherd king a significant counter-offer. “I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, one of your own sons, and I will establish his kingdom. He is the one who will build a house for me, and I will establish his throne forever. I will be his father, and he will be my son” (1 Chronicles 17:11b-13a). On the one hand God is apparently giving the green light for David's son Solomon to build the proposed structure, but there is also a sense in which God is looking through Solomon to another “Son of David” and to another “house” to be built. Solomon himself seemed to recognize the limitations of the beautiful building he constructed. “The heavens, even the highest heavens, cannot contain you,” he says to God, “How much less this temple I have built!” (2 Chronicles 6:18b).

Centuries after Solomon's death, David's other Son arrived on the scene ready to get to work. In the second chapter of John's gospel, Jesus referred to His own body as the true temple of God. “For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form” (Colossians 2:9). And when His disciples commented on how beautiful the man-made building appeared, He was quick to remind them that its days were now numbered. It had become obsolete, as the “shadow” is supplanted by the “substance” (Colossians 2:17). Jesus elaborated in a conversation with a Samaritan woman in John chapter 4. He had just described the new Spirit-filled life, which is made possible by His good news. She asks Him to clarify where she should go to worship God. She presupposes that His answer will be one of two possible locations. He, of course, chooses neither. Instead He says, “A time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks” (John 4:21, 23).

The author of Hebrews explains, “Jesus has been found worthy of greater honor than Moses, just as the builder of a house has greater honor than the house itself...Christ is faithful as the Son over God’s house. And,” get this, “we are his house” (Hebrews 3:3, 6a). Peter says it like this, “As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 2:4-5). And Paul adds, “You are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit” (Ephesians 2:19-22). We get a prophetic look at Jesus' completed structure, made from “living stones,” in His revelation to John. “Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb,” says John's angelic escort, “And he carried me away in the Spirit to a mountain great and high, and showed me the Holy City, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God” (Revelation 21:9b-10). “And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God’” (Revelation 21:3).

So what does all this talk about the structure Jesus is assembling have to do with our church buildings and the emphasis we typically place on them? Well, the key ideas that I take away from these passages are as follows: First off, God wants to dwell among His people, the Church! How awesome is that?! Secondly, and this is obvious but hugely important, Jesus builds the Church. Thirdly, the Church is not a brick and mortar building. It is comprised of “living stones,” who are pulled from the rubble and made suitable by the finished work of the Cornerstone. Jesus is the true temple, and it is only by the grace of God that we participate in the structure as an extension of His body. And finally, Jesus' Church is not confined to a building or tied to a geographic location. He means for us to fill the earth with His glory as we collectively declare and demonstrate His Gospel in everyday life. Yet the building-centric model of church often corrals and occupies the Church with its perpetual onsite programs and extensive overhead (measured in both time and resources). I've heard it rightly said that our buildings say “come” while our Jesus tells us to “go.”

I'm not saying the Church shouldn't gather. It's imperative that we do. I'm not even saying that churches shouldn't build worship centers. There is no biblical mandate or prohibition either way. It is documented that the First Century Church met in homes and public spaces, but, in fairness to the current model, there was nothing else available to them. And while he was in Ephesus, Paul seemed to have rented or borrowed a lecture hall for ministry purposes (Acts 19:9). Ultimately, if we become dogmatic about gathering exclusively in living rooms and coffee shops over traditional church buildings we have completely missed the point. Where we worship isn't the issue (to paraphrase Jesus' comments to the woman at the well). Furthermore, I would never want to jeopardize the positive elements currently found in the prevalent model with a mass exodus to nothing. There is a growing counter movement to the building-centric model, for example, that casts off all submission and structure in favor of an undefined and individualistic Christian anarchy of sorts. This is not the “progress” that I am suggesting. Whatever model we embrace, the Church is to be a family, a community, with accompanying obligations of accountability, submission, and service. Given some of the alternate models, I can understand why many Christians passionately defend a continued reliance on our church buildings and their accompanying programs. It's all many of us have known. Numerous people who pass through our doors meet Jesus, are often discipled, and can become genuine followers of Christ. And I certainly don't mean to disparage the numerous hours, resources, blood, sweat, and tears that untold American Christ-followers have poured into the current centralized model. It pains me to think that the questions I’m raising are often seen as most threatening and hurtful to those who are very invested in the current model—faithful brothers and sisters who love and serve Jesus’ Church with all that they are. But if we aim to be faithful representatives of our incarnational King, then we must be brave enough to question some of our arbitrary traditions. More than this, we must be willing to die to our preferences and preconceptions if need be.

The American Church is increasingly living in a post-Christian culture. Statistics show the number of our friends, co-workers, and neighbors who will never set foot in our buildings—regardless of how “current” or “relevant” we make them—is growing exponentially. We need to figure out how to take everything that's going right in the current model (declaration and demonstration of the Gospel: confession/repentance, baptisms, celebrating the last supper together, worship, teaching, discipleship/modeling) and move it into our neighborhoods, common areas, and places of business. It seems that most American Christians believe that faithfully attending and contributing to the weekly gathering(s) encompasses all or most of what it is to be an active member of a church. Our frustrated and exhausted pastors and elders may be preaching “go,” “love,” and “serve,” but the prevalent building-centric model is silently contradicting them with “come,” “sit,” and “spectate.” Or at best, “come and participate in all that goes into our Sunday gathering and midweek programs so that others can come, sit, and spectate.” The less than 10% of church members that typically answer the second invitation and dedicate more than 90% of the time and resources required to maintain the building and programs are often left with so little time or energy that they are unlikely to invite their Muslim neighbors over for dinner or to join a bowling league or book club with Gospel intentions. We have in many ways unintentionally crafted a system that leaves no time or energy for what we most want—what God most wants—to see: That is redemption and restoration, up close and in everyday life, in our neighborhoods and workplaces through the Gospel of Jesus Christ. If only we could place less emphasis on our gatherings and put more energy into our goings. We are not called to congregate in “sacred spaces.” We are called to be a sacred people who, like Jesus, bring the good news of the kingdom of God into the midst of a hurting and broken world. This is the nature and function of the house that Jesus built and is building. This is the sort of house that God will dwell in.

Love your Neighbor

 So the last few years I've been trying something new—new for me, anyway. It started with a neighbor, or at least I think it did. It's sometimes hard to put your finger on the beginnings of the often long process of God's patient attempts to shift our hearts toward His. Perhaps there were many other moments He intended me to take note of, but I remember this one. We had a neighbor, a young single guy, who for three to four years lived right next door to us in our apartment complex. His door was literally a few feet from ours. I don't know his name. We would greet each other politely when we passed. One day on my way out the door, I saw him loading his furniture into a moving van. I think I stopped and asked the obvious, “are you moving?” I didn't really have much to say after that beyond a generic “good luck.” I didn't know him. I remember feeling like I had completely wasted the years that I had lived in such close proximity to this guy. I wasn't a good steward of the time or the space we shared or, most importantly, of the Gospel with which I had been entrusted. The whisper of the Spirit was not condemning, though. God was instead welcoming me to view my neighbors the way He does. He was inviting me to follow him into the terrifying and exciting realm of actively loving my neighbors, seeking to bless them however I could, and pursuing them the way He pursues me.

I quickly realized that before I could love my neighbors I would have to first meet them. This obvious initial step can be an Everest of an undertaking for an introvert such as myself. How exactly does one meet one's neighbors anyway? I had to think on it for awhile. Our first attempt to meet the neighbors came about near Halloween. I had been conspiring with the Holy Spirit for a few weeks to devise a plan to meet everyone in our complex. Finally, He gave me the idea of doing what we ended up calling “reverse trick-or-treating.” We bought a bunch of candy, dressed our seven-month old up in her cute little Disney's Stitch costume, had a quick family prayer, and off we went. I gotta tell you, it was terrifying. Just knocking on doors and talking to strangers is really tough for me. Having an adorable baby as your wingman definitely helps, though. Family, and particularly kids, can be awesome ice breakers. We introduced ourselves, passed out some candy, and let people know where we lived. No big deal. These initial introductions eventually lead to a weekly neighborhood BBQ and a growing community within our previously guarded apartment complex.

I wish I could tell you it was all an easy ride from anonymity to instant community—that we didn't have any obstacles or heartaches. Getting to know people, earning the right to peer into their lives, and becoming vulnerable by welcoming them into your life can be a messy business. There really isn't any other way to go about it, though. The good news of Jesus' incarnation is best delivered incarnate, face to face. If He can leave Heaven to become Immanuel, “God with us,” then we can cross the hall to love the folks in the next apartment. The first door that opened to us belonged to an older woman who was desperately afraid to leave her apartment. She was addicted to painkillers and had burned all bridges to her remaining family. It was into this darkness and despair that Jesus invited us to shine His light. She eventually came with us to our weekly church gatherings, and we gave her rides to the grocery store and her doctor's appointments. She had some profound emotional/psychological wounds. Sometimes she loved us, and sometimes she was inexplicably angry with us. To be frank, it was often an extremely taxing relationship. Even so, I am grateful that He trusted us with her.

There were many encouraging moments, new friends, and redemptive glimpses of the kingdom of God breaking through. One notable highpoint of our time at the apartment complex was meeting a young family who later became our good friends and ministry partners. They were really great at inviting people and helping us put on our neighborhood BBQ every week. They were kind of shy like us, introverts set in motion by the power of the Gospel. Just like God to intentionally use our weaknesses to emphasize His strength. They opened doors to a bunch of Spanish speaking and Filipino neighbors with whom they already had ties (their kids being in school activities together and such). I remember the husband later telling me that he had been crying out to God to show up in his life, to offer some hope, a way out of his addiction and depression. He saw our knock at the door as God's answer to his prayer. As he spoke, I remembered back to when God was stirring in my heart and calling me out of my comfort zone. It's a beautiful thing when He gives us a brief peek into the bigger picture.

I'd say the biggest factor in this whole journey toward loving my neighbor thing was the new perspective that God gave me. Instead of simply “doing my laundry,” for example, I started actively looking to meet people and start conversations in the communal laundry room. In my previous life, I had learned exactly how long the machines took at each stage of the process, and I would drop my clothes off only to return briefly when I needed to move them to the next machine. With my new outlook, however, I started bringing a book, so I could stay in the shared space and visit with some of my neighbors if the opportunity arose. Going to get the mail became a trek across my mission field, greeting neighbors by name, and learning to notice the heartbeat of the neighborhood. Just being outside where you can be seen and become known by your neighbors is a huge part of the process. I would often play with our daughter on a shared patch of grass outside our apartment where we had our BBQs. We went for a lot of walks around the complex and to nearby shops. Our everyday tasks, stuff we are already doing, have the potential to be conduits of the Gospel. These are mundane activities that can be utilized by God if we are willing to seek His kingdom first in all things—even while washing a load of smelly socks.

I'm excited about this next chapter in our new neighborhood. We've been renting a house for a little over a year now, and we're eager to get to know everyone. We've especially been praying about and on the lookout for some other believers living in our neighborhood who would be interested in partnering with us. We try to use holidays and hospitality to foster the initial introductions. We've had an awesome neighborhood Memorial Day BBQ and a Halloween costume party. My wife made some great banana bread for Christmas that we recently passed out as a family. I've also been frequenting a local coffee shop within walking distance of our place. Whenever I meet one of my neighbors, I write their name down in my notebook (my memory is pretty pathetic). My goal is to pray for them and hopefully remember their name the next time I see them. Even doing yard work can be a kingdom activity. While I'm raking the leaves or cutting the lawn I'm also observing the neighborhood and praying for the families I've met and asking God to facilitate introductions to those I've yet to meet. I've already met a few neighbors while working in the yard. If we set out to merely rake the leaves, then odds are that's all we'll accomplish.

Ultimately, meeting the neighbors and seeking to bless them is about more than just expanding our social circle. We currently have all the friends a couple of introverts could ever want. However, the heart of God compels us out of ourselves. He is a perfectly content community within Himself, and yet He makes space at His table and welcomes us wandering orphans into His family. This missional DNA is transmitted to His adopted children. Play-dates, Superbowl parties (even if you don't like football), BBQs, and neighborhood game nights become the highway on which the Gospel can be delivered. As His ambassadors, we are to both declare and demonstrate the good news of God's kingdom. So I try to learn the story of God well—to know what He is up to in the world and in my neighborhood. I'm convinced that the declaration happens best in our living rooms or over coffee, and the demonstration happens most effectively and authentically in our Gospel-centric, everyday lives. Community is the unassuming and organic means by which God frequently advances His kingdom, so we seek community with Gospel intentions. I wouldn't want the reader to conclude that we're even close to proficient at this exciting endeavor. We're still awkwardly trying to figure this new way of life out, but I'm happy to report that it's a genuine pleasure to love our neighbors. My longing to see redemption in our neighborhood and city—for His kingdom to come—has been an incremental gift from God. Furthermore, I find that my commitment to God's global mission grows in direct relationship to my commitment to the folks living next door to me. I'm inspired by good friends who have left the comfort of the U.S. to make their home in Thailand (They also gifted us with their BBQ before they left!). They pursue their Thai neighbors with the love of Jesus in simple and profound ways, faithfully obeying the command to love neighbor as self in a cross-cultural context. Wherever you live, I can assure you that there is profound brokenness behind every door on your street. Our innate hunger for Christ manifests in a myriad of different fallen ways that end in death. Depression, addiction, abuse, empty pursuits of pleasure and things, hurting and broken families dwell in darkness behind white picket fences and nicely manicured lawns, awaiting the good news that has miraculously found us on its way to them.

“For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: 'Love your neighbor as yourself'” (Galatians 5:14).