The knock came on my home office door about 10 that morning.  Not expecting anyone, I came to the door to find my neighbor, James (name changed), standing there, looking emotionally distraught.  He asked if I had had breakfast yet (“no”), and, with tears filling his eyes, he asked, “Do you have any time to talk?” 

I had met James not long after we moved into the Candler Park neighborhood here in the city of Atlanta two years ago.  I’ll never forget our first conversation in the kitchen of our home, when he came to introduce himself as the new next door neighbor, who was about to move in as well.  In his early fifties, James was married and had a two-year old daughter.  He had been successful in the home construction business for many years but had an inner ache for much of that time, to accomplish what he had always wanted to accomplish: graduate medical school, in order to become a doctor.  The son of an alcoholic father, he had been told many times while growing up that he wouldn’t amount to much, that he wasn’t “good enough” to achieve his goals in life.  And James half believed them, limiting his accomplishments and what he chose to do.

Two years ago, standing in my kitchen, I met a man who had really changed since then.  He had come to Atlanta enrolled in medical school, desirous to become a psychiatrist that he might help those caught in addictive patterns of living.  Spiritually, he described himself as a “Buddhist Catholic,” though he really seemed neither.  The Catholic in him was lapsed (and probably still struggling with guilt) and the Buddhist limited himself to cursory readings of Deepak Chopra.  But James was serious about it all—that I knew.  He was just as serious about his spirituality and desire to change the world for the better as he was with his medical training.

But, two years later, now standing at my door (and after countless conversations with him about everything from religion to politics), James was in trouble.  As he would tell me over breakfast that morning, he had finished his medical school training and was now preparing for the arduous task of taking the medical board exams.  To do this, he had signed up to take a “crash course” on the exam from a doctor reputed to be one of the best.  James says his notes were indeed stellar but, personality wise, they did not hit it off and as the days of the class went by, tension began to build.  The doctor was flying in from out of town and was almost always late for his “one on one” sessions with James, uncaring about it in the process.  He had paid good money directly to this doctor for his help and the doctor’s behavior was unbecoming and unprofessional.  James had confronted him about it earlier in the week and the doctor had flown off the handle about it, accusing James of being his worst student and for being an upstart.  And what had emotionally laid James bare just that morning were the doctor’s words, “You’ll never be good enough to do this.”

As a pastor planting a church among my neighbors here in this great city, I have been praying at length for opportunities to share the Gospel with them, to see the kingdom of  God advance into the hearts of the people living here.  And, amazingly, 15 minutes before James knocked on my door, I had prayed for him and for Gospel opportunities—the second time that had happened in the past year! 

And what an opportunity I had that morning as we downed our meal.  James says to me, “I feel so out of control of my life but so much good has happened to me, almost like I have a guardian angel.”  I responded by telling him that we are indeed out of control of our lives but God is in control, something we had talked about once before (and something he had brought up actually).  But the sweetest moment for us was my opportunity to share how much I had been forgiven by Christ for the mistakes I had made and how being given so much mercy allowed me to respond to injustice towards myself in a different manner.  I no longer lived as an angry man—I had some years before—but had learned to love justly, without excusing injustice.  James was intrigued by it all but didn’t pursue it further, other than to say, “I feel like our relationship has been equalized, knowing you have gone through injustice as well and have struggled with anger.” 

I am learning that the process of spiritual transformation is rarely quick.  We are taught by our culture to resolve things quickly and neatly—how most television shows and movies do in the space of 30 minutes or two hours—and I suspect that as Christians we do this too regarding mission.  Regarding James, I am trusting that He really is in control and He is guiding my neighbor towards eternal life—I feel this in my bones—but doing it one piece at a time.

Pray for James.  He needs joy, he needs peace, he needs real life.  And as you pray for your own neighbors, come with patience towards them, willing to be used by the Father in whatever manner He desires.