Counting Blessings and Tomatoes: Life in an Ecological Community

“How big is my social battery?” I wondered, as I was added to a flurry of Whatsapp groups. I had just acquired a plot of land in a nature-inclusive construction project, and while the prospect of building a sustainable, innovative home excited me, I also realized I had signed up for more than just construction. I was joining a new community—70 households embarking on the same journey, soon to become my neighbors. As a fulltime lecturer at Viaa Christian University and an active member of my church, I felt that my social life was already quite complete. In my previous home, I lived an anonymous city life, where it is much easier to lay low and choose your interactions as you please. Moving to a small town with a strong commitment to active community involvement meant that I would probably have to pour myself out even more. In my first weeks in my new home, I discussed this with a new neighbor who I ran into on the train. She jokingly suggested that if I convinced the whole neighborhood to come to my church, it would solve my problem. Her remark captured the tension I was feeling: I was beginning to understand that community life isn’t something you can simply turn on and off at will.

On January 4, 2024, I moved into my new home. I was one of the last residents to move in, and I immediately noticed how community life in my new neighborhood mirrored the life of the church. Having been part of a church family all my life, I recognized similar patterns: a multi-generational community with people from all walks of life who share a common goal. In my church, that purpose is a mutual love for Jesus; in my neighborhood, it is a mutual love for the planet and for one another. As a Christian, I see the one as an extension of the other.

The Dutch dialect word ‘noaberschap’, meaning ‘neighborship’, has become a strong aspect of our community. When a baby was born, we organized a meal train for two weeks. When a woman got injured, neighbors created a schedule to help meet her daily needs. When another neighbor had to get a hip replacement in Germany, neighbors organized transport.

Here, in our lush and green area with sustainable houses—varying in size, both rental and owned properties—simple gestures of generosity echo what I’ve seen in the church’s commitment to care for others: ordinary people lovingly meeting ordinary needs. A group of pensioners, who call themselves “Gray and Green” have set up shop in the middle of the neighborhood. They built two apartment blocks with a communal social space, that is often used for meetings. We are not allowed to put up fences, which prompts us to both plant native hedges and limit unnatural barriers between neighbors. The first months felt like living on a campground, where you saw your neighbors every morning. Soon, however, strategically planted willows and other shrubs started to provide green screens between houses, turning boundaries into gardens.

My biggest surprise, however, is how much I have come to enjoy the communal bond in our neighborhood. For example, because we share a common space, we also share in the responsibility to steward it well. Through this, not only am I acquiring a green thumb, but I am also learning about and reminded of the value of roots. They communicate underground, they form the foundation of everything on the ground, they hold the secrets to regrowth, and they can weather the biggest storms when rooted firmly.

Jeremiah writes to the people of God in exile: "Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper” (Jeremiah 29:7 NIV). Even though I came here voluntarily, I believe in the power of prayer for my neighborhood. I believe that God has given me opportunities to bless people with my time, my attention, and my contribution to the wellbeing of our community. In the same way that I have served my church for almost 25 years, and my university for 12 years, I believe that God leads me to places where I can make a difference. And if I decide to go elsewhere, God will still find ways to use me, but the power of rooting is strong. It provides you with time to invest in others and to make a lasting difference.

Maybe you read this as you are on a crossroads in your life. Perhaps you have uprooted your life for university, work, or some other calling. Perhaps you’re wondering where you will go from here. Will you go back to where your roots once were, or do you see a future where you allow new roots to grow in new soil? Some plants can grow anywhere; others are very specific to a local environment. Pray about it and talk to the people who know you. Also, realize that you are hardier than you might give yourself credit for. My personal growth happened in the most difficult places, but also where I could nurture others and be part of a living, breathing community.

As cocooning season starts in my tiny house, I count my tomatoes and my blessings. Living in this community has brought me so much more than the peace and quiet I bargained for. It has taught me patience, generosity, and the beauty of shared life. I am proud and grateful to belong, to care, and to grow with others in this community—all to the glory of God.

Photos of Janssen's home and community taken by Henry van Belkom