Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

The clubhouse was bigger than we anticipated.

Our plan was to have the guys build the clubhouse in the woods behind our house. We had cleared a flat space and put in some railroad-tie steps down the incline. But the builders nixed the idea. There was no way they could build the shed-turned-clubhouse in the woods. So we punted and had them erect the building in the corner of our yard, with windows overlooking the woods. Problem solved (and likely with fewer spiders and other woodsy creatures).

Until we got a knock on our door at 4:45 pm on a Friday. An inspector from the city’s building department was on the porch. He explained his office had received a call from a neighbor inquiring if we had a building permit. Um. No. The move from the woods to the yard apparently required a permit (Don’t worry; we got it with no problems on Monday morning). The clubhouse/shed had apparently irked an anonymous neighbor.

All weekend, I fumed. Which neighbor? Not the family across the street whose kids have been pining along with mine for a clubhouse. Not the guy who trades beer brewing tips with my husband. Not the new folks who are as friendly as can be.

Why couldn’t the neighbor have talked with us if he/she was concerned? Why were they nosing in our business? It’s not their yard! Why couldn’t he/she been, well, more neighborly? 

Not a day later, I ran smack into Jesus’ admonition to love your neighbor. We’d been working for days to get the yard and house ready for our son’s outdoor birthday party. Our next-door neighbor had mowed his grass, and when I left the house to run some errands, I noticed that our driveway was covered in clippings. I muttered, “I hope he plans to sweep that up.” And I fumed. 

Until I realized that I was acting in the same self-focused, self-absorbed way that I had railed against the day before. While I was stewing in my juices, mad at how one neighbor was treating me, I was quick to judge another. And I was doubly embarrassed when I returned from the errand, driveway nice and tidy.

Sermons I hear on Sunday are much harder to live out on Monday. How quickly I went from feeling wronged to inflicting the same judgment on another. How often I tout the golden rule, only to fail miserably when it’s time to put it into practice. Loving thy neighbor feels pretty good when I’m receiving the love; it’s a lot harder to give it—even to the nosy person who called the planning department!

Dear God, Help me to love thy neighbor as your Son, our Savior, commanded. Amen.