to bounce off of flicker, the biggest question that I am accustomed to answering without even thinking is the simplest and most fundamental of all:

Who is my neighbor?

When I am hiking with STEP or Highlander adventure trips, the answer is incredibly easy: it's something I have no choice over. My community is my kids, and their neighbors are the eight other people arbitrarily assigned to that group. You cannot ignore them, clique them out, or simply choose to spend your time with someone else. And you most certainly cannot ignore what is increasingly becoming obvious to you: their amazing beauty as human beings in the image of God, and their needs and faults as ordinary people.

But when I am not hiking, my neighbors are my choice. They are the people that live in my suburban neighborhood, the worshippers in my upper-class church, the parents at my private school or in my homeschool support group, and the coworkers in my office. If I want, I can spend my entire life around people who are easy for me to live with, relate to, and love, without even making a conscious choice to do so.

The problem is, the most challenging and fulfilling relationships I've ever had were on the trail with people I either couldn't stand, or was sure I would never feel comfortable or loved around. They were so alien and often intimidating that I never would have chosen them for my neighbors. But the richness that came out of a whole group of radically different people with no other choices for fellowship was so beautiful compared to the blandness of my little homogenous groups that I was awed and brought to tears at the beauty of God's diversity. I was humbled before a God who's creativity so shockingly and refreshingly transcended my comfortable space.

It is unquestionable that once we have chosen a neighbor, and become involved in their community, it is almost impossible to not love them and minister to their needs. The question we will either embrace or ignore for the rest of our life is, simply, who will we choose to be the neighbor to?

After seeing the needs of Latin America, Cuba, Africa, the inner city, the outcasts, the poor, the trafficked humans, will I make them part of the patterns of my life--living in their neighborhoods, shopping in their markets, going to their churches, living in their world--or will I carefully or unconsciously allow myself to be insulated from their lives and their needs, avoiding their presence so that I will not stand condemned for failing them as my neighbors?

Who is my neighbor? For the best missionaries and happiests Christian I know, that answer is the people of the Rukwa valley of Tanzania.