Did you grow up on Sesame Street like I did? Then perhaps you too know the song: Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? Say, who are the people in your neighborhood? The people that you meet each day It’s an outdated song because we don’t meet the people in our neighborhood each day. At least I don’t. I live in Winter Springs Village. It has green spaces, a community pool and mailbox area, and front porches on every house. My family has the smaller sized home—a bungalow—and our houses sits on a zero lot line. That means I can almost reach out and touch my neighbor’s house. And I still don’t know my neighbors. We live in an age of looking down at our phones, electric garage door openers, and minding our own business. Gone is the neighborhood economy (“May I borrow X?”) and the front porch leisure while kids play on the sidewalk. With the pandemic, talking to strangers is more than odd—it’s hazardous. Is this a problem? Not for some, but it is for me. Because God tells me to love my neighbor.

Admit it....sometimes we see something, make an assessment, and judge... in a few seconds...sometimes harshly. I know I do it, subconsciously and sometimes blatantly outright. You know what I mean–like, when I was a teenager and saw a really hot guy. I automatically assumed he was probably very cool in every other way as well; I would size up someone based on what I could see on the outside. I also believed others would decide what they thought of me by my clothes, whether I was fat, or even by my hair. As an adult, perhaps by my car, my home, my job, my family, my education...still my hair! You can put anything in here....I know you must have at least one thing you have judged people on, or feel you have been sized up by. Well, there is a time still sharp in my mind when I made some judgments and so many assumptions, and boy, did God get me!

“And Who is my neighbor?” WHY DOES HE DO IT? Two days a week, our trash goes out to the side of the road. On one of those days the recyclable containers are added. Once the cans are out, they are forgotten, even if the big noisy collection truck is heard. Later in the day, the emptied cans appear near our garage. Who brings them up? It has to be one of our neighbors.

Resurrection reactions move from fright to frivolity, or we might say from fear to freedom, for the disciples. The death of Jesus shattered the community of followers. They were fearful. ‘Strike the shepherd and the sheep scatter,’ as the prophet says. Hiding, gathering in secret places...in the minds of the disciples the death of Jesus not only ended his physical life but murdered the truth he believed in. In one final stroke the cross poses the ultimate religious question, which throughout his life Jesus had witnessed to! “Can the last power of life be gracious if this man is crucified?” Was the joyous confidence which characterized Jesus merely whistling in the dark? Was Jesus Wrong? Was he wrong? Does the sparrow fall and no one cares? Are the hairs of our heads left uncounted? What manner of love allows this? Pilate dies in his bed and Jesus is nailed to the wood? “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross” is not only the taunt of the high priest but the deepest question of the disciples.

The final week. If you’re a follower of Jesus you know it as Holy Week. It was a petri dish of experiences that Jesus lived his final week here on earth.

My birthday is coming up this week. The big 31…not so big I know, but it’s got me thinking back. I think about my 20’s and man were they a doozy. I’m sure most people can say that about their 20’s. For me, I think about the amazing experiences…and the heart-breaking ones. I think about the five surgeries I had, including one that was one of the most traumatic experiences in my life. I think about my very public struggle with health, both physical and mental. I think about the wonderful, amazing friends I made and the ones I lost along the way. I think about falling in love and getting my heart broken. I think about the people who lifted me up and the people who tore me down. I think about losing my faith in God and everything I believed in; and then finding my way back to a relationship with God, stronger than I ever could have fathomed. And so we keep going down the rabbit hole…

Our small group has been zooming together for sometime now. We recently read Dr. Larry Selig’s book together, Five Prayers God Loves to Answer, and we were blessed out of our socks. We’ll not hear or read The Lord’s Prayer the same again! For Lent we decided to take on the topic of “Healing” as some dear friends, Don & Anne Bloch, agreed to join our small group. Don & Anne began their healing ministry when I was rector of Christ Episcopal Church in Madison, IN during the late 70s to the mid 80’s. From there they went to work for Christian Healing Ministries with Francis and Judith MacNutt, and then on to be on the staff of a church in Jacksonville for 18 years. Anyway, our small group now reaches into Ohio, Indiana, and Kentucky. Don & Anne invited a good friend of theirs to join us, Greg Toole. Greg is a prayer minister with Christian Healing Ministries and has shared with us the last couple weeks about Inner Healing. Simple and Powerful What I have outlined below is a very simple and yet powerful way to pray for someone.

Let me tell you a story I am embarrassed to admit. When I first moved to Central Florida, I was amazed by all the radio stations. Coming from rural Virginia where there were literally two stations (and even they went in and out), I was delighted to find so many options, including a Christian radio station. One day soon after I moved here I was in line for the drive-up teller at the bank. I was blaring some Christian music. As I approached the teller, I turned the radio down. Way down. I can sit here and tell you it was because I anticipated needing to hear the teller clearly. But that wasn’t it.

In order to draw near to Jesus, one has to know Jesus. At the very least, one must know where to look. Sometimes, we just don’t know where to look unless someone tells us. My belief is that what the world always needs most is a clear picture of Jesus, locked into our hearts and locked into our minds. This is the only way we, as redeemed people, can continue to live out our redemption into a broken and unredeemed world. But how do we get this picture of Jesus? How do we, 2000 years removed from the actual historical events of the Gospels, catch a glimpse of Him that is so captivating we cannot let it escape?

I will never forget the morning I asked a friend, “How are you?’ and he answered, “Battling the black dog!” I responded, “What does that mean – the black dog?” “You’re not familiar with that term?” He asked. “Not at all.” “It’s depression. Winston Churchill called it ‘the black dog’.” “I am very sorry. How are you battling?” Before he could answer, we heard the signal for our meeting to begin. My thoughts turned toward Depression. It was only in retrospect that I surmised my friend used that term with me because of my work as a mental health counselor.