The "For Sale" sign went up next door and I began to dream. We'd never seen the people who had lived in that house, or maybe they didn't live there much, just used it occasionally. But soon we would have new neighbors and that meant new possibilities. I've always wanted to know my neighbors, but previous experience had made me gun shy (language barriers, party lifestyles, constant transition -- all made me question if it was really worth it).
But it was worth a try. The new neighbors were very nice and seemed to want to be friends. They already knew more about the people around them then I did and I've lived here for three years already. They wanted to exchange pet care, and know our family and although we had some differences, we also had a lot going for us.
Then came the discussion of the land. It seems that their deed measured out their plot very differently from the way it currently was parsed out, namely that they owned another 5-10 feet that currently was fenced as part of our property. That fence had been there a while and had been used as a garden by the previous owner of our house and was one of the beautiful things that drew me to the property. Room for a veggie garden of my own. Truth be told, I had spent more time in that part of my yard than any other. We moved raised beds from our previous home to that area, planted corn and tomatoes, and lettuce to feed our family. That land wasn't just sitting around being neglected, it was the land where we worked and produced and we felt heartbroken that they wanted it, that they would take it by force if necessary. Suddenly the best relationship we had going with our neighbors had turned sour and we had done nothing to offend other than work land we believed was ours.
First, we were offended. Why would they want to create all this work and heartache for us, when they couldn't possibly use the land as well as we were? Why do they want to destroy our garden? Every conversation that started with the goal of compromise led in the direction of antagonism. It got to the point where I knew I needed to talk with them, was trying to do the right thing, but I just couldn't breathe. It hurt too much and was too dangerous. Next, we decided to fight. Everyone we talked with was righteously indignant at the effrontery of these people and we should get a lawyer and battle it out in the courts. Not one person I talked to believed that we should give it up. In trying to be "helpful" they built up our resolve to fight, convinced that we were in the right. And it felt so powerful to be the wronged party, to know that we were the victims here and that it should be put to rights in the court of law where such things are made perfect.
But it also felt awful. If they only knew what good, kind people we are, they would never ask such a thing of us. If they knew how we served the poor, loved people around us, surely they would give up. But then I realized that they didn't see what good people we were because we weren't being very good to them. We delayed, we ignored, we heard their case and didn't even bother to respond with any love or compassion for their needs, what they considered their right. How in the world would they see our goodness if we weren't willing to show it to them?
And then I started looking in the Bible, to see if God wanted to say anything about this. He usually does, I just don't go asking for several months, while I weigh in with every family member, church friend, lawyer friend I could think of first. And right there in the law, where God is using Moses to teach about fairness and justice (the two things I claimed I wanted in this whole situation) is this verse, "When you arrive in the land the Lord your God is giving you as your special possession, you must never steal anyone’s land by moving the boundary markers your ancestors set up to mark their property." Deuteronomy 19:14.
So here's the deal. When the land was divided up and handed out a hundred years ago, that part of the land belonged to them, not us. Someone, no one will ever know who, moved the boundary marker by building a fence. It was a wrong, not committed by us, but we benefitted from the crime. The right, the fair, the good thing to do was to give it back graciously. But I just didn't want to.
Which is why God wrote this in chapter 27. "‘Cursed is anyone who steals property from a neighbor by moving a boundary marker.’ And all the people will reply, ‘Amen.’" Now I am cursed if I continue to fight this change? And all God's people who agreed with me before should be cursing me for taking what belongs to someone else. That's because sometimes American law is different from God's law. I had to decide whose law I wanted to live under.
It was shortly after this that things came to a head with the neighbors. We had tentatively agreed that when the spring came, we would go about removing the plants that we cared about and allow the neighbors to take over. It was April and we had done nothing and said nothing. So in frustration in our delays, the neighbor cut down the raspberries that we had wanted to save. I arrived home one day to find them piled in a heap of debris and I cried. That was it. We HAD to make this work. We needed to give up fighting a losing battle and start to be gracious.
Within a week, we met with the neighbors. We explained our emotions and our grief and also how daunting it was for us to have to re do all this work of laying out the garden. We had a plan to move things and we just needed some patience and some communication from them. We decided not to fight and finally repaired the relationship. And it worked. It was lots of hours of digging and pulling grass and learning irrigation, but we have a bigger garden in a different place. The neighbors even bought us a gift card to help cover the expense of moving things and installing new water lines. We talked about how we were progressing, let them know when the new fence sections could be built. We learned more about them and their lives in that month than in the previous ten months. And it finally felt right, not strained. And I could breathe again.
When I think about the phrase, "love your neighbor" I think of friendly chats and can I borrow some flour and summer cookouts with smiling faces. I don't think of tearing down my hard work and sacrificing for the sake of another. Which is ridiculous, because love always involves sacrifice. It is putting the desires of another, a stranger, above your own and making that stranger family. It is heartache and struggle and pain and vulnerability. It is scary and dangerous and world changing. And it is also good and right and true and just like what Jesus did for me.
