The other day, I was driving through a suburb we almost bought a house in. You know how your brain sometimes wanders into the parallel universe of what could have been? It was one of those weird sliding doors moments.

If we had moved there, everything could be different.

Different school catchment.
Different parents to chat with at pick up.
Different barista learning my coffee order.
Different people for my kids to play with at the park.

And I realised something simple but massive. Right now, I am introducing three people to Jesus because we live where we live. Not because we planned it. Not because we followed a strategy. Just because our lives overlap. Our boundaries touch. Our stories collide in one school catchment.

It made me think of something long forgotten in a lot of church conversations today. The idea of the parish.

Back in the day, a minister never parachuted into a building for a few hours a week. He moved into a place. A neighbourhood. A street. The church building was the meeting point. The parish was the mission. Ministry happened in kitchens and corner shops and front lawns. Wherever people actually lived.

Jesus said the greatest commandments are to love God with all that we are and to love our neighbour as ourselves. Not metaphorical neighbours. Not theoretical neighbours. Actual neighbours. The ones within reach.

Paul doubles down in Acts 17 saying that God determines the exact times and places we live. Not accidental placement. Not random coordinates on Google Maps. Strategic. Intentional. There on purpose.

Where you live shapes who you meet.
And who you meet might shape eternity.

I think that is what God has been whispering to me lately. We often think calling or mission, is somewhere else. In the next suburb. The next house. The next country. The next dream. A bigger platform. A better job. A move that changes everything.

But what if the only thing that needs to change is the way we see what is right in front of us?

Your everyday parish might be:

• the parents you chat with at the school gate
• the kid next door who kicks his ball over the fence too many times
• the barista who knows you order a batch brew
• the mate who always seems a little lost but never says it out loud

Maybe God has not just placed you in a suburb. Maybe He has planted you.

Jesus told the disciples to go and make disciples of all nations. But first He told them to start in Jerusalem. Start where your feet already are. Start with the people you have already earned the right with; the ones you do life with. Start where the Spirit has already gone ahead of you.

It is easy to miss what God is doing horizontally when all our prayers point vertically. I have asked Him to use my life in big ways. I forget He might already be doing that through school drop off and the neighbours who awkwardly wave every morning.

So here is the question I am asking myself.

Have I found my everyday parish?
Or am I still waiting for a different one that feels more glamorous?
More exciting? More missional? More obvious?

Jesus did not hide His ministry in crowds. He walked the streets. He sat at tables. He wasted time with whoever was in front of Him. It is a gift to waste time on other people. 

I want to live like that.
Eyes open.
Feet planted.
Not in a Rush.

Maybe it is time for us to rediscover the parish. Not as a ecclesiological term but as a rule for life. The place where we show love. The place where we carry hope. The place where we quietly, faithfully join in what God is already up to in our neighbourhood. 

Maybe you do not need to move to find your mission field.
You are already in it.

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