He lives right next door.
He lives right next door.
Not down the street or across town, but only a few yards away. My neighbor is a United States Marine Corps veteran who is living with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, better known as ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease.
For years, we barely spoke. I had helped his daughters receive their veterans’ education benefits when I worked at the college, but outside of that, our relationship was mostly a wave, a quick hello, and then back to our separate lives. I never really stopped to know him.
Then came the diagnosis.
Now he rarely leaves the house. His speech is slurred, and his body is slowly giving out. The man who lives only a few yards from me is dying, and I cannot escape the question that keeps pressing against my heart: Why did it take this for me to finally see him?
God placed this man right next door to me. I do not believe that was an accident. He was not meant to be background scenery in my life or simply the person who lived in the house beside mine. He was my neighbor, someone to love, someone whose story mattered. Yet I was too busy, too distracted, or perhaps too afraid to walk across the yard and truly know him.
That is painful to admit because I say I want to follow Jesus. But Jesus never rushed past suffering. He noticed people. He sat with them. He touched those others avoided, and He entered their pain without needing to explain it away. Too often, I want to serve God in ways that feel important, visible, or comfortable. But sometimes obedience looks much smaller. Sometimes it looks like knocking on a door, sitting in a chair, listening patiently when words are difficult to understand, and staying when silence feels uncomfortable.
I cannot heal my neighbor. I cannot stop ALS from taking more from him. But God has not asked me to fix him. He has asked me to love him.
Maybe that is where I have gone wrong. I have spent too much time believing I need the perfect words, the right answer, or something meaningful to offer. Maybe my presence is the offering. Maybe listening is ministry. Maybe walking next door is an act of worship.
My own life is difficult right now. I am carrying fear, uncertainty, regret, and questions of my own. But perhaps God is using this season to pull my eyes away from myself. Perhaps He is reminding me that even in my pain, I can still love someone. Even when I feel weak, I can still show up. Even when I have no answers, I can still be present.
I wish I had done it sooner. I wish I had known the man before I knew the diagnosis. I cannot change that, but he is still here, and so am I. There is still time to walk next door, to listen, and to become the neighbor God called me to be.
Maybe there is someone near you whom God has been asking you to notice. It could be someone you keep meaning to call, someone you wave to but do not really know, or someone whose pain makes you uncomfortable because you do not know what to say. Do not wait until tragedy forces you to see them. Ask God to show you who is right next door, and then go. Make the call, send the message, or knock on the door. You do not need to fix anything. You only need to be willing to love.
