|
|
GENTLE AMONG THEM by EVIE LEBOW In the 1700 block of W. Sunnyside Ave., sits a cozy culdesac of ten homes - our neighborhood. When we moved to California from Washington State we were astounded and pleased to be part of a neighborhood that greeted us with a welcoming party and hosted regular gatherings during the year. We soon discovered that they exemplified the meaning of “neighbor”, watching over vacationing members homes, keeping an eye out for wandering “strangers” and organizing to help neighbors in need. Neighbor John was so diligent that, during one of our vacation times, he called the police when he noticed strangers coming and going from our back yard. Young couples from our church had to talk fast to convince the officers that we had given them permission to swim in our pool while we were gone. Our neighbors make it easy to follow the scriptural admonitions, “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31 NIV) and “Each of us should please or neighbor for his good - to build him up”(Romans 15:2 NIV). I’m far from loving my neighbors as I love myself. But I do yearn to please my neighbors for their good and the glory of our Lord. The Holy Spirit sparked my yearning through a heart piercing experience in another neighborhood in another time My friend was dying. Her once solid, healthy frame was skeletal. Skin desperately stretched to cover depadded bones. Blue eyes, always large, appeared king-size above hollow cheeks. Formerly physically active, she used a cane for each agonizing step. Relentless, never ending pain trampled her keen mind. Description of a tragedy? Certainly! Yet a greater tragedy dominated. A tragedy in which I was involved. I became acquainted with Stephanie as a direct result of prayer. When our family moved into a new neighborhood we believed that God had a specific purpose for us in that place. We prayed that He would lead us to the neighbor whom we could lead to Him. Soon we began to see signs of His working as our son developed a friendship with a neighbor boy. Gradually I became acquainted with his mother, a talented artist and fitness enthusiast. On a bleak November day we learned that Stephanie had undergone breast surgery a few days earlier. When my husband and I visited her in the hospital, we found a terribly frightened young woman crushed by the her surgeon’s pronouncement. Cancer! Stephanie was frantic at the possibility of being snatched from her family. She appeared willing to try anything to change her situation, to alter the paralyzing fear and threat of death. During that visit Stephanie made a profession of faith in Jesus. On our next visit we gave her a Bible and started her on a follow up Bible Study. Within weeks she informed us that her family was attending a Bible believing church in the area. We were disappointed they weren’t attending our church, yet relieved that their spiritual needs were being met. Months raced as I busied myself with my personal and church families and left my neighbor to hers. One bright June day I asked Stephanie’s son about his church. Brightness fled as he described it and named his church. Our neighbors belonged to a cult! Guilt and remorse saturated me as I considered my busyness, lack of follow through in prayer and reaching out in loving concern. I had failed to follow the Apostle Paul’s example in 1 Thess. 2:7. “We were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her little children. We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us. We dealt with each of you as a Father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting, urging you to live lives worthy of God.” My neighbor needed that same gentleness, that love that shares time as well as words, that encouragement and comfort. I asked the Lord for forgiveness. . . and another chance. God graciously granted my request. He gave me one year to minister to Stephanie. Some things changed. Stephanie became more than a neighbor. She became my friend. Prayer for her became a regular part of my life. As her condition worsened I had the privilege of serving her in many ways. At times we talked for hours about God and His plan of salvation through Jesus Christ. At one point there was some indication that Stephanie prayed to receive Christ during her teen years. I yearn to report that Stephanie abandoned her cult. She did not. She continued to embrace their beliefs. They convinced her that positive thinking, mind over matter, love and good will brought both physical and spiritual healing. Her God was the positive in and around her. Stephanie died without a personal relationship with a living, loving Heavenly Father. Would the situation have been different if I hadn’t allowed apathy and busyness to block my spiritual vision? I believe so. Remembering Stephanie hurts. But I rejoice as the Holy Spirit uses the memory to remind me of the responsibility and privilege of being “gentle” among the good neighbors in our California culdesac. |
Copyright ©2001 Dale Freeman. All rights reserved.