OPINION
My wife and I moved out to Providence Village three months after we got married, leaving behind the smog, horns, and traffic in search for something quieter and more meaningful; a shared life where we could start a family.
Not quite Andy Griffith, but maybe something like Friday Night Lights—waving to a passerby on the road, smiling at someone in the grocery store, what some might call the simple life.
Yet, when we arrived, we discovered something we didn’t expect: Community isn’t created by location alone, but by the culture within that location.
Over the past two decades, I began to wonder— while we live near each other, are we neighbors in any meaningful sense?
Many of us value a privatized life: self-directed, selfcontained and independent.
But privacy can create distance and independence can turn into isolation.
Somewhere along the way, the word neighbor has been reduced to geography rather than relationship.
Ironically, many of our dynamic relationships now exist across area codes, state lines and time zones.
Meanwhile, the people closest to us physically are often the least known.
While our proximity increases, our connectedness weakens.
And yet, even as our culture drifts, something within us resists it.
Research is showing that many of us persistently feel the heaviness of loneliness.
We long to be known, to be seen, remembered, and cared for.
Young adults are experiencing this even more, while teens seem lost in a sea of disconnection, what should be called anti-social media.
This is not a wholesale attack upon technology, but an honest assessment of where we stand culturally.
We have a deep, internal longing for more, within a culture that seems determined to drive us away from each other.
Jesus reframed the concept of neighbors in a shocking way.
He challenged His audience to consider a neighbor as someone you show mercy, rather than the person next door (Luke 10).
The Scriptures also gently warn that some of us have a habit of drifting into isolation (Hebrews 10:25). Long before the complexities of modernity, there was a shared understanding that we are formed within community and that relationships are gifts to receive.
Reshaping our concept of community should not require some dramatic change in our actions, but small, simple gestures, and maybe a change of perspective.
Start with intentional awareness.
No need to bring a cake to a neighbor (although, if you have an extra cake, I won’t refuse).
Small and consistent actions help.
Learn someone’s name. Slow down long enough for a real conversation.
Join a church or go back to the one you stepped away from.
Offer small acts of kindness, like moving trash bins, or helping with someone’s yard.
A few years ago, we had a leak in our kitchen and a neighbor we hardly know offered us his wet/dry vac to clean up the mess.
Simple acts like these go a long way.
We aren’t adopting new ideas, rather we are reclaiming concepts we lost along the way.
Neighbors should not be defined by proximity, but presence; quality rather than quantity.
Our communities are not built overnight, but through small, repeated choices that reflect a deeper belief: People matter and life is meant to be shared.
It might not change the complexities of life, but it will certainly help ground you within those complexities.
And, in a world increasingly shaped by screens and distance, a bit of grounding matters more than you realize.
Steve Stanley is a Providence Village resident with a doctorate in ministerial leadership with a platform on YouTube, https://www. youtube.com/@Formed-NotPerformed, and on Instagram, https://www.instagram. com/formed_not_ performed. He can be reached at [email protected].
