Peering out our living room window, I watched a couple enter the apartment across the driveway. The man’s dark, curly hair and olive skin suggested his Middle Eastern heritage, confirmed by the figure beside him draped from head to foot in the dark-gray garb of a Muslim woman. I turned to my husband. “Honey, we have new neighbors to meet.”
We had recently moved into this large apartment complex adjacent to the local community college — the mission field to which God had sent us. Already we had met several neighbors including a family from Saudi Arabia who welcomed us warmly. Now we had the opportunity to meet another Muslim couple.

One evening about a week later, I noticed that the apartment door across the way was open. Bearing a freshly baked apple pie, my husband and I crossed the driveway and paused at the door. Two young men sat cross-legged on the floor, schoolbooks open before them. They cordially invited us in and accepted our gift. Khalid introduced himself and his companion. Both had been sent by their oil company to study in the United States. We exchanged names and phone numbers, and Khalid asked if I could tutor his wife in English.

Thus began a deep and lasting friendship with people from another country. Soon Khalid invited us to their apartment for our first meal in a Muslim home. I met his wife, Mayassah, and we chatted while she prepared the meal. Barely 17, she had studied English in school for four years before her arranged marriage and was glad to meet an American friend. Soon we were all sitting on the living room floor partaking of delicious Arabic food, using our fingers instead of forks. My husband asked if he could pray a blessing for the food and their home, and Khalid readily agreed. This opened a discussion about our similar and contrasting beliefs. We accepted the booklets he offered about their religion, knowing it opened the door to give them a Bible and Christian literature in return.

During the next two years, we spent much time with our Arabic friends. Muslim wives — in the privacy of their homes and away from the men — shed their inhibitions as well as their burkas, and talk incessantly. Mayassah asked me dozens of questions about my life, family and faith in God. In turn, she taught me so much about her people’s customs, religion and language.

We grew especially close when Mayassah became pregnant with her first child, so far from her own mother. After her husband graduated, they stayed to await the baby’s birth, and when Mohammad was born with a life-threatening congenital defect, they turned to us for support and prayer. During the next few months we stood faithfully by them as their baby struggled for life — aided by a committed team of medical experts and undergirded by the prayers of our Christian friends. Khalid and Mayassah readily acknowledged that God had spared their baby’s life in answer to prayer.

Finally little Mohammad grew strong enough for them to return to their country. They assured us that they would never forget all we had taught them, and shortly before their departure Mayassah confided, “Virginia, I now know — not only in my head but also in my heart — that Jesus died and rose again.” Recently Khalid called from Houston, Texas, where he had brought a young orphaned relative for extensive medical treatment. “I want him to meet you,” he said. “You guys are the best friends we ever had, and I trust you more than anyone else in the world.”

During the past 10 years, since returning from my own three-year sojourn in a foreign land, I have become increasingly aware of the “world at our doorstep.” In our neighborhood we regularly encounter people from different races and cultures: international students, migrant workers, immigrants and business leaders. A steady stream of tourists from all over the world come to our state, eager to observe the American dream firsthand. Our guest book, as well as the world map on our wall, indicates the friends we have made from over 50 countries. God has brought the world and its diversity to our neighborhood. How greatly our lives have been enriched!

God gives all of us opportunities to practice the Golden Rule as well as the Great Commission — two basic tenets of our Christian faith. In contrast to all the preparation, sacrifices and funding required for missionaries to go overseas, it doesn’t require much to be a channel of God’s love to the strangers in our midst. Newcomers to our country are the ones facing the stress of adaptation. We have a God-given opportunity to meet them at their point of need — helping them adjust to our culture, learn our language and feel accepted in our community.

Some will return to leadership positions in their native countries; others may become valuable American citizens; most will judge Christianity by what they observe in those who claim to be Christians. Will our attitudes and actions convince them that Jesus came to save those from every tongue and nation? Will they learn of His unselfish, committed love through us? Will we invite them into our homes, churches and social circles?

Many Christians support missionaries generously and intercede regularly for specific countries and needs. Yet they often seem oblivious to the representatives of those countries within walking distance of their homes and churches. We need to be “missions-living” not just “missions-giving” Christians. In our fast-paced, comparatively affluent society, it is easier to invest money than time. However, the investment of time — through personal involvement — in strangers from other countries will inevitably result in abundant dividends — in our lives as well as theirs.

How will we answer our Savior one day when He says, “I was a stranger, and you did not take me in.” He has made it so easy to obey His final command to “Go and make disciples of all nations.” Even those from countries closed to all missionary activity are open to friendship evangelism in our back yards. As we pray for unreached multitudes in the “10/40 Window,” let us not ignore the faces in that window — the faces of our neighbors.