Davis begins his second chapter by explaining that the world around us is quickly shrinking, largely as a result of technology. This shift to a more global mindset has ramifications for the way we view the world and our neighbors:
In the past, what happened on the other side of the world didn’t always concern us. They lived in their world, and we lived in ours. But everything has changed. Now what happens in Iraq or Russia or Africa happens as if in our own yards. We are global next-door neighbors. There is no more they and we. We have to shift our old ways of thinking. We are global citizens, living in a connected world, governed by global principles. Either we realize this and accept it, or we will be swallowed by it. The forward thinkers of our world accept this truth. Some exploit it to grow their businesses. Some wield it as a political weapon. Some use it to do good work. But what are we, as Christ-followers, to do with the truth of a shrinking world? This is important—critically important—for us to consider. After all, this world was God’s before it was anybody else’s. (Chapter 2)
As Davis argues, this world is God’s world, and when we obey him by offering compassion to those in need, we bring glory to Him. Jesus sees the world as it is—full of sinners in need of salvation. Davis drives this point home, while challenging all Christians to follow after Jesus with compassion and neighborly love:
Consider Jesus’ last act of compassion before breathing his final breath: He forgave a thief who was dying on the cross next to him. This was not a wrongly convicted man of high standing but a dirty, rotten, rightly convicted thief. I suspect the man lived a horrible life. Certainly he didn’t deserve to be forgiven. And, of course, that’s the crux of the gospel message. I don’t deserve to be forgiven either. None of us deserves forgiveness, but God offers it anyway. Not just to some, but to all. We are created by a God who loves his creation. All of his creation. He wants all of us to know him and follow him. There are no geographical limits to God’s love. God loves me just as much as he loves the little African baby I met who was about to die from tuberculosis she got because of the AIDS virus. This little baby was created in God’s image just like I was. There is no difference between us in God’s eyes. But there is one difference in my eyes—one that compels me to reconsider my abundance and the manner in which I view the world around me: She was born in Africa. An Africa where poverty and disease and death are infinitely more ubiquitous than Starbucks. And, according to Jesus’ parable, she is my neighbor. Yours, too. (Chapter 2)
