Some time ago, a movie came out that was aptly called The Village, a story about a tight-knit community whose village is surrounded on all sides by a deep, dark, and deadly forest.
Continual stories of the danger that lurks within the surrounding woods ensure that the residents don’t venture beyond the boundaries, into the woods, and ultimately through to the “outside.”
(Insert obligatory spoiler alert here)
Some of the village’s elders know the truth of what’s on the outside. It certainly isn’t all bad – some of it is actually quite good – but they prefer the controlled environment that the village gives them.
Because of what the elders deem as bad and dangerous on the outside, they propagate their carefully constructed stories, certain that it’s for the safety and betterment of the residents.
Now the village isn’t a bad place. It provides the people with a great deal of safety, security, and community.
Most of the people who live there are content and don’t think twice about their lives. There’s no reason to consider that the woods aren’t truly filled with dangers, let alone consider the possibility that beyond the forest lies something amazing and beautiful and greater than what they can possibly conceive.
On the contrary, they’ve adapted to a lifestyle of reinforcing the importance of keeping a safe distance from the established boundaries.
But some of them aren’t content. Some yearn to explore, certain that there’s something more. Certain that, as great as the village is, it simply can’t represent all that life was meant to be.
Amid the people of the village, such thinking isn’t well-received. It’s threatening. It’s an indicator that someone is potentially wayward or rebellious, but most certainly in grave danger.
It’s all an interesting, almost ironic parallel to how life in Christian circles can be.
Doing life together in Christian community can be a cherished gift, provided we keep a safe distance from the edge of the woods.
Fireside chats and discussions over meals are fine as long as we don’t question the truth of the surrounding forest or speak with intrigue about what lies on the outside.
The doctrines and beliefs and creeds of Christianity – along with occasional lines drawn in the sand – all serve as boundaries that provide us with the security, certainty, and safety that we crave as people.
We can live within these boundaries, certain that we’re experiencing all there is, or at least all that we’re meant to experience. Certain that what we believe as true is not merely something we’re choosing to believe is true for us, but is ultimate truth – complete and accurate and not to be tampered with.
Just like the people in the village.
But what if something deep in our souls tells us there has to be more? Do we have the courage and faith to venture out, or do we hold back because we’re so certain of the boundaries that define and protect our village?
What if our understandings of the village and the surrounding dangers have been misshaped, whether intentionally or not?
What if there’s actually something out there worth leaving the safety of the village for?
And what if the creatures lurking in the dark forest aren’t nearly as dangerous as we’ve been led to believe or don’t truly exist in the ways we’ve thought?
I relate to it all.
To the safety of the village. The security of established boundaries. The fear of the forest.
And the potentially risky question of “Is this really all there is?”
I’m getting very close to publishing my book, Brand New Day: How Questioning the Answers Rocked My World, Reformed My Faith, and Released My Soul.
I invite you to check it out, especially if you can relate to the scenario of the village or the question of whether there’s more.