When we moved into our new neighborhood it was less than 48-hours before a man rang the doorbell to our home. I have since learned to recognize the particular way he rings the doorbell; much longer than the average person. I have also since learned to understand a little more about my new neighbor.

Clarence has one of those smiles that implies he's got some hard stories to tell. He is about 45 years old and is always ‘looking for work’. And, frankly, Clarence works hard and has the ability to focus on one project much better than I ever could. He is a proud worker and will tell you about the neighborhood house he painted by himself. His life is exposed and visible to us.
 
With my new friendship with Clarence comes new questions in my life: How do I love my neighbor when my neighbor has no home? My previous worldview always defined my neighbor as living in the same context as me: in a home. I thought the fabric on our couch may be a little different or the choice for dinner may be unique, but I never really imagined my neighbor without a couch or a refrigerator. This piece of Jesus’ call to “love my neighbor as myself” was new to me until Clarence.

With one doorbell ring, I instantly stepped into a new perspective. At the start, I felt like the relationship was oppressively lopsided because it was entirely dependent upon whether I granted his regular requests for money, work or food.  It was my decision to feed him or my decision to give him money for work. I was pushing my decision down on him. It felt unequal and unjust. What could I be learning or gaining from him? What could he possibly do for me? What would I gain by knowing him?

Just recently, our relationship moved into a different level when he needed to use my phone. I showed him my iphone. “Your I-what?” He didn’t know how to use it and told me I needed to get a real phone because the sound is too quiet. As he left a voice mail message, I overheard him say, “Now you have my number. Just call me back and my friend Jeff will find me.” I was torn in that moment. I was slightly offended that he considered me his personal assistant, but I felt proud that he considers me his friend.

A new level of dignity in our relationship has been reached.

I believe the things I learn from Clarence are birthed from a frustration of him being different than me. The selfish way that I see the world is always broken when I have to consider him in conversation. Without Clarence I wouldn’t think about how people on the street feel when it rains. Without Clarence I wouldn’t know that all homeless people are not looking for handouts. Without Clarence I wouldn’t think about how the changing seasons and temperatures will influence the living conditions of the impoverished. Without Clarence I wouldn’t understand what it means to love my neighbor.

I have a huge house compared to the bench in the park where Clarence sleeps, but without Clarence my world is very small. I'm thankful Clarence is my neighbor.

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