So I found myself loathing my neighbors upstairs a few nights ago.

Alexis and I moved house a few months ago to the other side of “downtown Belchertown”. We moved from being in a nice duplex to a semi-apartment-complex. We are in a first floor apartment in a square house with four apartments, two on the first floor and two on the second floor. There are three such houses in a row here, making for a total of 12 apartments.

It’s a different environment than the one we got used to over the past year - last year we had a large two-floor apartment that was one-half of a quiet duplex on a quiet cul-de-sac. Our neighbors were a great young family - a UMass professor, his wife, and their two adorable kids aged 3 and 1.5.

We loved our neighbors - it was quite easy actually - and we met with them regularly. They became good friends whom we still meet with weekly.

We miss them

Now, don’t get me wrong - we are trying to get to know our neighbors at our new place too… but…

Well, I’m learning just how much distance there is between all my big words about living recklessly in community and actually, you know, like, living in community.

For one thing, I find myself having quite a snobbish and condescending attitude toward my neighbors upstairs. They are a young couple, with a four-year-old kid. I don’t think the couple is married (judgmental observation number 1), and I think the lady has some serious issues (judgmental observation number 13), and I think the guy is a wannabe-punk (judgmental observation number 42), and I think the kid is a hellion (judgmental… ok, you get it, I’m venting), and I think the floors are really thin, and I think the neighbors shouldn’t have friends over for parties beyond midnight on weeknights, and I think they shouldn’t be drinking Bud Light, and I think we really shouldn’t be living here, and I think the money we are saving on rent by being in a smaller place isn’t really worth it, and I think this is part of being self-sacrificial and choosing to condescend to the level of the unwashed masses and share the blessing of God’s presence with them.

In other words, I’m being a royal arrogant judgmental whiny ass.

So cut to a few nights ago when I’m rolling around in bed trying to sleep at 1.15 am and failing miserably because there is a lot of foot-stomping going on upstairs. Something similar had happened a couple of nights prior and Alexis and I had walked upstairs, but our neighbor was very apologetic and kicked out her guests a few minutes later.

This time around, though, the noise was much lesser than previously, but I was awake, and annoyed.

I found myself *straining* to hear the feet walking around, just to make myself madder.

Thing would go quiet for a little while, but I wouldn’t go to sleep because I knew, I just KNEW, that they would walk around again, just to annoy me, I KNEW!

I was grumpy, and grouchy, and mad, and mad at Alexis for making us move here, and mad at God for forcing us to live in community with these punks instead of being a comfortable distance away from them where “community” would be a nice after-dinner conversation topic with wine and cheese.

The next evening, Alexis and I were watching the season-premiere of Lost, when during a commercial break ABC previewed an upcoming series titled “What about Brian?”, yet another show about “friends”.

One of the taglines for the show was : “Friends are family that you choose”.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks : Neighbors aren’t friends, aren’t family, and you don’t even get to choose them. You just get to love them.

Suddenly Jesus’ words about loving thy *neighbor* became a little more significant.

I’ve been thinking (and feeling) that loving our neighbors and living in community with them is all about being a blessing to them, being a loving influence in their lives. Arrogantly enough, I’ve been thinking that we would be God’s gift to our neighbors, that our neighbors ought to feel *blessed* that we have chosen to love them!

In practice, though, it’s a LOT easier to love people who are already easy to love. It’s a LOT easier to love people in a “covenant” friendship, where you get to define good boundaries and get to withdraw your friendship if they hurt you.

It’s a LOT harder to choose to love people who rub you the wrong way.

It’s a LOT easier to think the best of friends you already love - and to forgive their faults and blemishes and late-night loudnesses. In fact, doing such things with them becomes “fun”!

It’s a LOT harder to think the best of neighbors who keep you up late at night.

And I know there are people who have it a lot worse, okay, I know that this is still Belchertown where at least we get to hear our neighbors’ feet upstairs, and not gunshots outside. And I know this is all quite shallow and doesn’t go anywhere near as deep as that missionary lady who forgave the dudes that slaughtered her husband.

Shallow as it may be though, this is what I just learned about living in community - you don’t get to choose the parameters of the community you live in, you simply get people, raw and messy, just like you. You may think you are ready to choose to live in community with them, but you have no assurance that THEY want to live in community with YOU. In fact, they may want exactly the opposite - in this individualistic culture, the goal is to get AWAY from forced apartment community!

And you get to love them anyway.

So on my drive to work the next day, in the morning, I prayed : “God, okay, I am ready to love my neighbors! I *WANT* to love them, so please go ahead and provide opportunities for us to learn how to do that and to love them!”

And I realized how arrogant I am, and I felt the divine shrug - what if us simply moving here was the opportunity God provided, and what if He’s now saying, “what do you mean, you are ‘ready’ to love them? what are you waiting for!”

But, but but but…

Yeah.

Faith sucks.