Love Thy Neighbor

You may have heard about Rosenberg in the news lately. In fact, you may have heard about the very street I live on. If you have, its probably because a man that lives down the street from me is under suspicion for killing his wife and mother-in-law in her home, just a few streets away from my home.

Is it safe for me to write about this on a blog? Or even legal? I mean, its not like I know any information. Anyways, the point is that the police have been on my street, searching a man's house for evidence of murder. The man hasn't been around, and as far as I know, he hasn't been found. I know I should probably be afraid, but I'm not. What does that mean?

Its so terrible. They have children. I'm not sure how old the kids are, but I am sure that it doesn't matter. I don't know what else to say about the situation.

Well, there is this: I've been contemplating the old adage "love thy neighbor" quite a bit. I think, "Its difficult to conceive of loving someone despite an act like this." So then I start thinking about the times that I've visited prisons with Seekers, and I remember how deeply I felt for the inmates. Their guilt was visible, from their IDs to their jump suits, as was their shame. And as we all stood under the same roof to praise God, I thought, "What really makes me any different from these men? Aren't we all made the same way?" When we lined up at the door to shake their hands, many of them hesitated to make eye contact, and they let their handshakes go limp. There was no confidence there, no pride. They were stripped. It made me hurt for them. I know that criminals must be served justice, and that they have stripped innocent people of their pride, confidence, and in many cases, much more. But I struggle with revenge v. justice. Where do you make the distinction? I just don't know... but that's for a different entry. Still, I wanted them to know that I saw a different future for them, one where they are not convicts forever labeled as guilty. They are my neighbors, and I want to love them the way Jesus loves them.

But I am not Jesus (surprise, surprise). And I am finding that it is more difficult to conceive of loving my neighbor when he is truly my neighbor. I just can't stop thinking about those children.