EASING TENSIONS WITH CHURCH NEIGHBORS

When the Baker family moved to the outskirts of town twenty years ago, they intended to escape the roar of the greased streets and the smell of the crowd. They happily exchanged a teeming suburban neighborhood for a two-acre parcel hemmed by walnut trees and a creek.

For eight years their oasis of obscurity remained unthreatened. But then a rapidly growing bedroom community began its inevitable crawl in their direction. Housing developments sprouted everywhere. A ten-thousand-seat outdoor concert theater was constructed half a mile from their door. So although unwelcomed, the news that the five-acre plot next door had sold wasn’t unexpected.

The problem was, a church-our church-had purchased it. The Bakers, like many property owners today, feel that churches make poor neighbors.

Growing Discontent

“Not a church,” the Bakers protested. “Anything but a church!” As later we’d discover, Mrs. Baker had attended church as a child, but in adolescence had grown embittered. Whenever a spiritual topic entered the conversation, her vocabulary turned venomous. We quickly learned not to mention God or church in her presence.

Even before construction of the church building began, I’m told, the Bakers had already erected an invisible wall the entire length of the property line.

They turned down an invitation to the dedication of our new building. Their body language made it clear; they shunned any invitation. Seclusion-that’s what they desired.

To make matters worse, three years before I arrived as pastor, the unthinkable happened. One Sunday afternoon when a group was renting the church facilities, the estranged husband of one of the visitors tore into the church parking lot, pulled out a pistol, and shot his wife dead on the asphalt.

What made this all the more horrible was that a terrified bystander stood braced against a walnut tree thirty feet away-the Bakers’ 10-year-old boy. The invisible wall doubled in height.

My first contact with Mrs. Baker was less dramatic but equally memorable. It happened the morning after a sleepless night. The church’s burglar alarm had been tripped by a wind storm. Because we live but a hundred yards away, I was awakened by the clanging bell. Anxiously I crossed the vacant lot to check for intruders and turn off the bell. Finding no one there, I reset the bell and returned home. Twice more the alarm went off, and twice more I roused myself from sleep to repeat the ritual.

After the third trek I knew the culprit-the wind. But, new at the church, I was reluctant to leave the alarm off. Therefore, when the alarm sounded the fourth time, I stayed in bed, hoping the trustees had told me the truth-that the alarm shuts itself off after forty-five minutes.

At daybreak the telephone startled me from sleep.

“That blankety-blank burglar alarm has been ringing all night. You’d better get your body over there and turn it off.” It was Mrs. Baker.

A discouraged young pastor slumped at his desk later that morning. How could we be serious about wanting to reach our community with God’s love when the “community” across the parking lot hated our presence? I was devastated. My gregarious personality generally helps me win people over, but in the Bakers I found only rejection.

Not Insisting on Our Rights

Where could I turn? As a pastor it would not be the first time I had looked to see what God’s Word said. The Bible spoke about the less than enthusiastic response of the Canaanite nations when the people of God moved in next door. God gave permission to the Israelites to wipe them out, a solution not without a certain appeal-but, alas, inappropriate here.

I did, however, find a promise that related to individuals and their opponents: “When a man’s ways please the Lord, he makes even his enemies to live at peace with him” (Prov. 16:7). I wondered if that principle would apply to a church and its backyard foes. If so, I needed to discover a way to respond to the Bakers that would “please the Lord.”

Then I read what Jesus suggested as an appropriate response when confronted with chronic critics. In the Sermon on the Mount, he said, “Turn your other cheek,” “Go the extra mile,” “Forgive without limit,” “Make friends with your accusers quickly.” In other words, Jesus called for actively loving people like the Bakers, people who were neighbors but who felt like enemies.

This provided the biblical insight I had sought, but the context also suggested the possibility of being persecuted while practicing the ways that please the Lord: “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” In other words, it’s one thing to know the right way to approach the Bakers, but the process might be an arduous one. Quite simply, though our ways please the Lord, we may be persecuted by his enemies, even while the Lord is bringing about peaceful coexistence.

Christian missionaries often experience the dilemma of delayed acceptance. My wife’s brother and his wife are missionaries on a remote island in Indonesia. Lee and Paula have been living among a non-Christian tribal people for almost three years. At first they were questioned, criticized, ridiculed, and ostracized. Although they seemed unwanted, they had been granted permission to be there by the tribal chief and the Indonesian government. They had rights and privileges.

Lee and Paula could have bulldozed their way into the village, permission slip in hand, insensitive to their neighbors’ attitudes. But who would listen to their message of a God of understanding and love when the messengers of such a God were examples of anything but that?

Instead, they felt called to give in tirelessly to the irrational demands of their tribal critics. They must seek peace at every turn, if the villagers were ultimately to make peace with them and find peace with their God. Their strategy already is beginning to pay off. Lee and Paula now are returning here for their first furlough, leaving behind friends who are interested in their message.

Likewise, I realized that when our congregation seriously attempts to be the kind of neighbor God desires, he is more likely to effect peaceful relationships with those who live nearby.

Here, then, are a few principles that we have found make a difference for peacemaking with church neighbors.

The Neighbors Are (Almost) Always Right

After ten years of being mercilessly maligned, we rightfully could say to our neighbors, “It’s a shame you don’t understand why our church is here or appreciate what we’re doing in people’s lives. But your not wanting us here doesn’t change our purpose or plans. We’re going to be God’s church regardless of your objections. After all, the city zoning department has approved our master plan.” Thus we could write off our neighbors and be within our rights.

But perhaps the most redemptive response to troublesome neighbors is also the most difficult. Sometimes it pays not to protest but simply to agree with neighborly complaints.

I unwittingly discovered this principle years ago while shopping for shoes. My favorite store as a teenager was a Seattle institution. What earned this store its envied reputation was its attitude toward customers. Returns were rarely questioned; refunds were freely offered. The customer was always right.

This amazing attitude remains the store’s hallmark, and thus the store remains my favorite place to shop for shoes. It’s also why Nordstrom is the fastest growing department store chain in the nation. People respond to others who give them the benefit of doubt when they aren’t obligated to.

Nordstrom’s key to successful retailing has become our key to relational peace: demonstrate unconditional trust in another, and they, in time, will trust you.

A few years ago a church in Naperville, Illinois, desired to convert two private residences into additional parking. The city denied the church’s request, claiming such a move would lower property values of the surrounding neighborhood. But an appeals court ruled that in denying the church permission, the city was in violation of the First Amendment. The court maintained that a church’s rights outweigh considerations of public convenience, annoyance, or unrest, thus giving a green light to churches to develop their property despite the complaints of neighboring landowners.

But having the legal right to disregard our neighbors’ feelings doesn’t, in my mind, make it the right response. To do so would be like my brother-in-law holding high his permission slip from the Indonesian government and disregarding cultural barriers. It’s counterproductive, unless, of course, a missionary or church is concerned only with people other than those immediately across the property line. We determined we wouldn’t be such a church.

As I contemplated the run-in with Mrs. Baker over the unsilenced burglar alarm, I decided it would be imprudent and ineffectual to try to defend my actions (or lack thereof). Rather, I asked my wife if she would bake some Greek pastries and arrange them attractively on a plate. Nervously, I walked to the Bakers’ home and presented the plate as a peace offering.

Mrs. Baker wasn’t impressed. I shouldn’t have been surprised; after all, my gift acknowledged that she was right and I was wrong. But by agreeing with my neighbor, I had begun to build mutual trust.

A few weeks later Mrs. Baker called, upset that loose newspapers from the church recycling container were blowing toward her yard.

It was ironic that the newspaper bin was intended to boost our missions income to extend Christ’s love. In reality its existence resulted in damaging home missions fifty yards away. How could we focus on the needs of nonbelievers halfway around the world before taking as seriously the concerns of our nonbelieving neighbors?

I thanked her for her call and assured her that we, too, were concerned with the unwanted litter. We attacked the loose paper with evangelistic fervor and placed it in the recycling bin. Within weeks the church council voted to have the bin removed.

Communication Lines Over Property Lines

My first meeting with Mrs. Baker had given me little reason to expect a cordial relationship any time before Armageddon. I didn’t want to speak with her ever again. But I did.

She was in the yard as an elder and I were walking by. We approached her, and somehow the conversation turned to church activities. She complained about the beams of headlights that shined in her bedroom windows on Sunday nights. I apologized and tried to say warmly, “Mrs. Baker, we really want to be good neighbors, and perhaps even become your spiritual family.”

“Don’t give me that religious crap,” she quickly countered. “I just want a fence between our house and your church.” The words stung.

While walking to the office in the weeks that followed, I often would see Mr. Baker in his yard, tinkering on some project. I seized each opportunity to call out a greeting. I knew we had to keep communicating. To my surprise his responses always were pleasant. At times he even smiled or commented about the weather. We were making progress.

Several months later while we awaited a planning commission hearing over our projected classroom addition, I saw Mr. Baker. We talked about the forecast of rain and his current construction job. Then he alluded to the proposed hearing. He, along with all our neighbors within a quarter-mile radius, had been invited to attend.

“What do you guys have up your sleeve?” he asked suspiciously. I replied that we simply had run out of classroom space for our Sunday school. “Well, I’ll see you at the meeting,” he added, as if to intimidate me. So much for attempting to keep the lines of communication open, I thought, discouraged.

Our hearing with the planning commission was scheduled for Maundy Thursday. Since I had to be at church, our church chairman attended. It was three hours before our case came up, and for those three hours, our chairman joked with, listened to, and chatted with Mr. and Mrs. Baker (the only neighbors who showed up). Our chairman later reported an amazing mellowing of mood that transpired during the course of the evening. He had exhibited concern for the Baker family, and by the time the commissioners considered our request, the Bakers voiced guarded support.

While walking to work a week after the meeting, I asked Mr. Baker for his impression of the evening. “Oh, it all went quite smoothly,” he said.

I was glad we had maintained two-way communication.

The Second Mile Isn’t Just for Joggers

In spite of my occasional conversations with Mr. Baker, our goal of peaceful coexistence continued to be a frustrating challenge.

Then a letter from the planning commission reignited hope that the barrier with the Bakers would one day be abated. My presence was requested at city hall to respond to a request made by the Bakers to move a large storage barn onto their property.

The barn, we determined, would visually detract from our future development. We could have objected to their request and most likely have blocked the project. Yet here was an opportunity to model grace. Perhaps a gracious response would win the Bakers over.

A church board member accompanied me to the planning commission, where we sat across the table from the Bakers. It was with genuine joy that we gave our endorsement to their proposal.

They seemed appreciative, but not nearly as appreciative as the day not long ago when I called and asked, “Would Thursday be okay to have someone come and survey for a fence along our property line?”

“Oh, yes!” came the delighted response But then, as if to remind me they were still our adversaries, Mrs. Baker added, “We’ve been waiting a long time for that fence.”

At the time of the parking lot shooting, the Bakers had insisted that a fence be built. The city had agreed shortly thereafter that our church would need to construct a fence prior to any major building program. But since our congregation was small, major construction was years away.

Then several months ago we began to increase our parking capability and add landscaping. The thought occurred to our church chairman that even though our improvements didn’t require it, it might be a redemptive time to go the second mile and construct a fence. By building the fence before we had to, we wanted to model the power of grace to tear down whatever offense remained.

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

In his poem Mending Wall, Robert Frost challenges the folk wisdom that claims “good fences make good neighbors.” Rather he says, “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, that wants it down.” Frost fails to acknowledge, however, that when you’re learning to live at peace with your neighbors, in order to move beyond small talk eventually to big talk (about eternal life), fences can serve a positive purpose. They help define the boundaries of relationships.

Building a fence has indeed enhanced our church’s ability to befriend our neighbors; it tells them we care about their concerns. To the Bakers, a hundred yards of vertical redwood planks symbolize our acceptance of their privacy.

The fence has taught us that a key to winning the right to be heard is recognizing and honoring felt needs. Joseph Aldrich’s Life-Style Evangelism reminds us how we must take seriously the needs of potential converts and then show how the gospel can help. That includes recognizing a naysaying neighbor’s need to be left alone. Only to the degree that resistant neighbors invite us across the fence do we have a right to proceed.

We intend to bend over backward to accommodate our neighbors’ requests, limiting our entitled freedom in hope of becoming friends with them.

Yet we are determined not to compromise our original purpose for buying that five-acre nut orchard. Our aggressive outreach will mean more headlights in the parking lot more evenings than Mrs. Baker would prefer. It means more people, more parking, and more buildings. (It also means more prayer for the Baker family from more people.) It means if push comes to shove, we’d insist on pleasing the Lord and his desire for the Bakers (and those like them), rather than pleasing the Bakers’ desires for our church.

Even a store as committed to customer satisfaction as Nordstrom doesn’t let the customers’ critical whims alter its specific goals. Management sets the course the chain will follow, and it is along that course that the heralded sensitivity and accommodation take place. But it’s in that order.

The same is true for Crossroads Covenant Church. We will render unto the Bakers what is their rightful due as long as in the process we are rendering unto God what is his desire for an obedient, outreaching church. Our love of God constrains us from simply rolling over and playing dead, to our neighbors’ delight.

Possibility Thinking

As much as I’d like to report that Darrell and Becky Baker are attending church, teaching Sunday school, and serving on the property expansion task force, I can’t. They remain reclusive, reluctant to let our church into their well-protected world. So we carry on, wishing it were different but waiting for God to open a tunnel through the redwood divide.

In the meantime, Robert Schuller’s “Possibility Thinker’s Creed” has become our strategy: “When faced with a mountain, I will not quit! I will keep on striving until I climb over, find a pass through, tunnel underneath, or simply stay and turn the mountain into a gold mine with God’s help.”

And God is helping. I understand Mrs. Baker is baking graduation cakes for the Christian school down the street. That’s a breakthrough.

And there’s more evidence of gold in the making. While picking up a pizza at a local restaurant, I noticed the Bakers’ son (now in high school) plying dough in the kitchen. I called out a greeting.

He looked up and, recognizing me, smiled.

At this point, I’ll settle for that.