The Great Commandment Series

In John 17, as Jesus prepares to go to the cross, He prays not just for His disciples, but for all who will one day believe in Him. And what does He pray? That we would be one. Not just unified in theory or theology, but in life, love, and witness. Jesus says something incredible in verse 23: "May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me."

That means our unity, our togetherness, isn't just for us. It's one of the most compelling ways the world comes to know Jesus. And friends, in this divided, anxious world, we can show what unity, love, and hope look like.

So, what does that look like? It looks like neighboring, because before we can unite the world, we must unite our blocks.

Every great movement begins not with an answer, but with a question. And this particular movement, the one we're talking about today, was sparked by a few local pastors who began to dream together. They weren't trying to reinvent the church or compete with one another. They asked, "What would it look like if we linked arms—not just to do church better, but to serve our city better?"

That question was humble and bold at the same time. Humble, because it admitted they didn't have all the answers.

Bold, because it acknowledged that the Kingdom of God is bigger than any one church, and that maybe, just maybe, fundamental transformation starts when we move from isolation to collaboration.

So instead of crafting a vision in a vacuum, they decided to listen. They went out into the community and asked two questions:

1. What's your dream for our city?

2. What would it be if you could wave a magic wand and change one thing?

They asked teachers, business owners, city officials, community organizers, single moms, retirees—people from every walk of life. And what they heard was eye-opening.

Some of the answers were expected: better schools, safer streets, and more affordable housing. But underneath those practical hopes was a more profound yearning that didn't fit neatly into a program or policy. People were hungry for connection.

They didn't just want services, they wanted relationships. They wanted to feel like they belonged in their neighborhoods, that someone would notice if they were hurting or missing, that someone would knock on their door to say hello.

And perhaps the most insightful response came not from a theologian or a pastor, but from a mayor. When asked what churches could do to make the most significant difference in their city, he didn't say, "Run more programs" or "Build more buildings." He said, "The smartest thing pastors could do for the city is to start a neighboring movement."

At first, it might have sounded too simple. But the wisdom of that statement is profound. Because relationships always trump programs. Programs come and go. Events start and end. But relationships, the ones built in everyday places, over time, have the power to change hearts, families, communities and cities.

Community begins with connection, and connection begins next door.

What's more, research backs this up. Here are a couple of statistics:

• People who have close bonds with their neighbors tend to live longer.

• In neighborhoods where people know each other by name, crime drops by 60%.

• When natural disasters strike, it's not FEMA or the fire department that arrives first—it's your neighbor.

• And perhaps most sobering of all: studies show there is no measurable difference between Christian and non-Christian neighbors.

That last one should stop us in our tracks. Jesus said in John 13:35, "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." He didn't say they would know us by our theology or by our attendance, or by how many Bible studies we attend. He said they would know us by our love. Lived out, embodied, visible love.

So what happens when even our neighborhoods, the places we live, raise kids, mow lawns, walk dogs, and share fences, can't tell the difference? That should be a wake-up call. Because the truth is: this isn't about running a campaign. It's not about launching a flashy initiative. It's about discipleship. It's about rethinking what it means to follow Jesus in the real world, in real time, with real people. It's the Gospel with shoes on.

Imagine what would happen if we stopped seeing our neighborhoods as just the place we sleep and started seeing them as the place we're sent. Not just where we exist, but where we're called. That's what these pastors began to realize. And that's what this movement is about. Not programs. Not slogans.

Not even events. Just the simple, sacred act of being present with the people around us. Of seeing, knowing, and loving our neighbors. And Jesus, brilliant as always, already showed us exactly how to do that.