The Fence Post My Neighbor Moved Eight Inches Onto My Side of the Line
The Fence Post My Neighbor Moved Eight Inches Onto My Side of the Line
The surveyor's stake is still sitting in my garage, orange flag curling at the edges, three weeks after I paid a man two hundred dollars to prove what I already suspected. My neighbor's new fence sits eight inches onto my property, the whole length of it, cedar posts set in concrete he is not going to want to dig back out. I have rehearsed the conversation I am going to have with him more times than I can count, standing at my own kitchen window watching him mow a strip of grass that is legally mine. Some version of that rehearsal ends with me being generous and reasonable. More of them end with me saying something I would regret, delivered in a tone I have not used on another human being in a long time.
I used to settle disagreements with my fists, back before I knew the Lord, in parking lots and at kitchen tables that did not belong to me, and I told myself for years that getting sober had put that man away for good. What this fence has taught me is that the fists are gone, but the war underneath them never fully left. It just learned to argue instead of swing, and it is just as capable of ruining a Tuesday as it ever was of ruining a Friday night. James does not let me pretend this is really about eight inches of grass. "Where do wars and fights come from among you? Do they not come from your desires for pleasure that war in your members? You lust and do not have. You murder and covet and cannot obtain. You fight and war" (James 4:1-2, NKJV). I want to be right. I want to be respected on my own property. Underneath the survey stake, that wanting is doing more of the fighting than my neighbor's fence ever did.
Here is where my own reasoning keeps losing the argument it thinks it is winning. I can tell myself accurately that eight inches of grass will not change my life, that the man has three kids and a mortgage and probably never once checked the plat map before he built, that I have torn apart better relationships than this one over smaller things than a fence. Every sentence is true, and none of it has cooled a single rehearsal in my head, because conflict was never actually a facts problem waiting on a calmer argument. It is a surrender problem, and no amount of correct perspective has ever once talked a clenched jaw down by itself.
Solomon knew exactly what my rehearsed speeches were likely to cost me before I ever opened my mouth. "A soft answer turns away wrath, But a harsh word stirs up anger" (Proverbs 15:1, NKJV). I have tested both halves of that verse enough times in my old life to know it is not a suggestion. And Jesus made reconciliation something more urgent than I ever treated it as, more urgent, even, than worship itself. "Therefore if you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift" (Matthew 5:23-24, NKJV). He did not say wait until the matter is settled in your favor. He said go first, before the gift, before the proof, before I am even certain I am right.
This is exactly what abiding in the Spirit offers that my own rehearsed speeches could never finish producing. Paul does not tell an angry man to stop feeling what he feels. He tells him where the feeling is allowed to end. "'Be angry, and do not sin': do not let the sun go down on your wrath, nor give place to the devil" (Ephesians 4:26-27, NKJV). Anger itself was never the sin he was warning me about. It was the nursing of it past sundown, the slow curdling that turns a disagreement about a fence into a grudge that outlives the fence entirely. Paul tells the Colossians what actually dissolves that grudge, and it is not a better legal argument. "Bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do" (Colossians 3:13, NKJV). I have a complaint against my neighbor. Christ had considerably more against me, and forgave it anyway, before I had moved a single inch toward Him.
I notice, too, that Paul never promises peace will depend on the other man cooperating. "If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men" (Romans 12:18, NKJV). As much as depends on me. My neighbor gets a vote in how this resolves. He does not get a vote in whether I walk over there with a soft answer instead of a surveyor's report folded up like a weapon in my back pocket.
I watch nations threaten each other on the news some nights, old grudges dressed up in new uniforms, nothing settled, everyone certain they hold the rightful line, and I think the whole world is standing exactly where I was standing at my kitchen window, convinced the eight inches is the real issue. Scripture tells me Christ is returning for a people He is teaching to make peace now, in small disputes, as practice for a kingdom where every border dispute finally ends for good. Until that day, Paul hands me the only peace that has actually survived three weeks of rehearsed arguments. "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:6-7, NKJV).
I walked over there yesterday evening without the survey stake. I do not know yet exactly how the fence gets resolved. I know I said considerably less than I had rehearsed, and it cost me nothing I will miss.
If you are standing at your own window tonight, rehearsing a conversation that keeps getting sharper the longer you wait, know this. God is alive, and He already knows exactly which eight inches has you awake. He has a plan for you that was never contingent on winning the argument, and a peace that goes further than anything your own reasoning could build. He will never leave you alone with that grudge, not tonight, and He is coming back to settle every line the world has ever fought over.
Scriptures used (NKJV): James 4:1-2; Proverbs 15:1; Matthew 5:23-24; Ephesians 4:26-27; Colossians 3:13; Romans 12:18; Philippians 4:6-7.
The surveyor's stake is still sitting in my garage, orange flag curling at the edges, three weeks after I paid a man two hundred dollars to prove what I already suspected. My neighbor's new fence sits eight inches onto my property, the whole length of it, cedar posts set in concrete he is not going to want to dig back out. I have rehearsed the conversation I am going to have with him more times than I can count, standing at my own kitchen window watching him mow a strip of grass that is legally mine. Some version of that rehearsal ends with me being generous and reasonable. More of them end with me saying something I would regret, delivered in a tone I have not used on another human being in a long time.
I used to settle disagreements with my fists, back before I knew the Lord, in parking lots and at kitchen tables that did not belong to me, and I told myself for years that getting sober had put that man away for good. What this fence has taught me is that the fists are gone, but the war underneath them never fully left. It just learned to argue instead of swing, and it is just as capable of ruining a Tuesday as it ever was of ruining a Friday night. James does not let me pretend this is really about eight inches of grass. "Where do wars and fights come from among you? Do they not come from your desires for pleasure that war in your members? You lust and do not have. You murder and covet and cannot obtain. You fight and war" (James 4:1-2, NKJV). I want to be right. I want to be respected on my own property. Underneath the survey stake, that wanting is doing more of the fighting than my neighbor's fence ever did.
Here is where my own reasoning keeps losing the argument it thinks it is winning. I can tell myself accurately that eight inches of grass will not change my life, that the man has three kids and a mortgage and probably never once checked the plat map before he built, that I have torn apart better relationships than this one over smaller things than a fence. Every sentence is true, and none of it has cooled a single rehearsal in my head, because conflict was never actually a facts problem waiting on a calmer argument. It is a surrender problem, and no amount of correct perspective has ever once talked a clenched jaw down by itself.
Solomon knew exactly what my rehearsed speeches were likely to cost me before I ever opened my mouth. "A soft answer turns away wrath, But a harsh word stirs up anger" (Proverbs 15:1, NKJV). I have tested both halves of that verse enough times in my old life to know it is not a suggestion. And Jesus made reconciliation something more urgent than I ever treated it as, more urgent, even, than worship itself. "Therefore if you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift" (Matthew 5:23-24, NKJV). He did not say wait until the matter is settled in your favor. He said go first, before the gift, before the proof, before I am even certain I am right.
This is exactly what abiding in the Spirit offers that my own rehearsed speeches could never finish producing. Paul does not tell an angry man to stop feeling what he feels. He tells him where the feeling is allowed to end. "'Be angry, and do not sin': do not let the sun go down on your wrath, nor give place to the devil" (Ephesians 4:26-27, NKJV). Anger itself was never the sin he was warning me about. It was the nursing of it past sundown, the slow curdling that turns a disagreement about a fence into a grudge that outlives the fence entirely. Paul tells the Colossians what actually dissolves that grudge, and it is not a better legal argument. "Bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do" (Colossians 3:13, NKJV). I have a complaint against my neighbor. Christ had considerably more against me, and forgave it anyway, before I had moved a single inch toward Him.
I notice, too, that Paul never promises peace will depend on the other man cooperating. "If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men" (Romans 12:18, NKJV). As much as depends on me. My neighbor gets a vote in how this resolves. He does not get a vote in whether I walk over there with a soft answer instead of a surveyor's report folded up like a weapon in my back pocket.
I watch nations threaten each other on the news some nights, old grudges dressed up in new uniforms, nothing settled, everyone certain they hold the rightful line, and I think the whole world is standing exactly where I was standing at my kitchen window, convinced the eight inches is the real issue. Scripture tells me Christ is returning for a people He is teaching to make peace now, in small disputes, as practice for a kingdom where every border dispute finally ends for good. Until that day, Paul hands me the only peace that has actually survived three weeks of rehearsed arguments. "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:6-7, NKJV).
I walked over there yesterday evening without the survey stake. I do not know yet exactly how the fence gets resolved. I know I said considerably less than I had rehearsed, and it cost me nothing I will miss.
If you are standing at your own window tonight, rehearsing a conversation that keeps getting sharper the longer you wait, know this. God is alive, and He already knows exactly which eight inches has you awake. He has a plan for you that was never contingent on winning the argument, and a peace that goes further than anything your own reasoning could build. He will never leave you alone with that grudge, not tonight, and He is coming back to settle every line the world has ever fought over.
Scriptures used (NKJV): James 4:1-2; Proverbs 15:1; Matthew 5:23-24; Ephesians 4:26-27; Colossians 3:13; Romans 12:18; Philippians 4:6-7.
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