A door, a bag and a castle
Some time ago there existed a castle surrounded by walls twenty feet in height. The castle was known by the surrounding people to have exquisite feasts and parties. However, it was not just the feasts and the parties that all those outside of the castle were envious of. It was even more so the joy and laughter and what seemed an indescribable peace that would waft over the walls as an inviting fragrance. It was every outsider’s dream to come live in the castle, and many would travel there, hoping for the opportunity to gain entrance. But few would be willing to make the sacrifice that was necessary.
You see, the castle walls extended entirely around the perimeter, and there was but one opening in which to gain access. This was a small wooden door that led to a tunnel that was so small that only a single person would be able to squeeze through. In most scenarios this would be okay, but the people of the surrounding land lived and died by the tools that they carried in their backpacks. Some had great large tools and others just fair, but one thing they all were given at a very young age was a pack in which they could store their tools and carry them on their backs wherever they went. This proved most useful for the lives that they lived. They constantly needed to use their tools to improve things and change things that didn’t seem to work the way they wanted them to. They went about the countryside building their own world and constructing things in the exact manner they preferred.
One day a group of fifteen, who were all related in one way or another, decided to make the journey to the castle. They thought for sure they would be allowed in and would live their lives in the peace that they had smelled constantly flowing over the walls of the castle. It did not take them long to make their way to the wall and once there they continued their journey around the perimeter until they came to the single wooden door. It was small, but not dauntingly small. Just small enough to cause one to think about walking through it, before they did.
The first one brave enough to open the door and peer through could see glimmers of light shining through what looked like a door on the other side. The fragrance coming through the tunnel was alluring. He looked back at his family and began to walk forward. At about five steps in he noticed that his backpack was beginning to get stuck in the tunnel. He tried shimmying around in different directions, but it was of no use. The tunnel was actually getting smaller the further he went. He slowly backed his way out to his family who was now plaguing him with questions.
He shushed them, held his finger in the air, and announced, “I’m afraid it is impossible to pass through this way.”
His younger brother, who was always trying to one up him, offered the strategy of scaling the wall. He reassured them all that he had within his bag the right tools with him and that he would be able to lower a rope to them once he reached the top.
He climbed with all the grit and determination he could muster, but at about 10 feet up the wall, he recognized the futility of his effort. He did however find a small hole in the wall, and was able to perceive a faint perspective of the happenings inside the wall. He reported immediately his findings to those below, who encouraged him to stay put and continue sharing what he perceived.
As he shared this newfound information, a wealthy uncle stepped forward and announced that he would begin building everything that was reported about the other side. “Why not have all that they have right here. After all we have the tools,” he touted.
And so they began to work. They built a tent, and then put chairs under the tent, and then they installed a lectern and told grandfather to stand behind it. As the information was passed down they would mimic all that was being communicated. They would stand when it was time, they would dance, they would laugh, and even cry. They would place a hand on each others shoulder, and they would even chant prayers. It truly was their best re-creation of what it appeared that no one could attain on this side of the wall.
Very soon there were other travelers who came. They were quickly and certainly convinced that there was no possible passage through the tunnel and that the replica of what existed inside the walls was just as good and complete. They also were pleased to find out that they did not need to do anything different than they had previously. The whole group kept using their tools the way they always had, and when one person got out of line, they would in unison correct them with whatever tools where necessary.
This went on for years. The tent grew larger and more and more people and their tools were added to this kingdom outside the castle. Eventually the doorway to the castle became overgrown and forgotten.
The brother who had first found the hole in the wall was joined by others, who would also report their findings through small perceptions. And as happy as they all seemed, not one of them ever asked what they were missing, and they no longer had the desire to be on the other side of the wall.
One day a small boy, with a small bag and a piece of folded parchment in his hand came upon the group, which was now a small village. As he passed by the main tent one of the elders stopped him and asked him where he was going.
“I am on my way to the door that leads into the castle, Sir.”
“Oh my boy. I am sorry, but there is no door. It is just us and this village here. However, I assure you, that we have everything that you could need and everything that the castle has to offer, right here,” he said with an untrustworthy look.
“Well, thank you, Sir, but I will keep looking.”
“Son, Son, I don’t believe you understand. This is our village, we’ve lived here for years. If there was a door, and if inside the castle was a better place, don’t you think we would’ve already gone through it?”
“Well I suppose you would’ve,” the boy said.
“Good, then it is settled, come with me and we will find you a family to stay with. They will care for you and you will be so glad you stayed with us.”
“Sir, do you know who I am?”
Somewhat taken aback by this statement, the man took his hand off the boy’s shoulder and adjusted his overcoat. “No, no I do not. Who are you lad?”
“That is not important, but as little as you know me, is the same as I know you. I was always told not to trust strangers,” at this the boy took out one of his tools and showed the man. “See, my mom gave this to me when I was young.”
The man stood there waiting for what was to come next.
“You see, I was given this map and charge by my late grandfather. He told me to find this door on the castle and to go through it no matter the cost. I loved my grandfather. I trusted my grandfather. I do not know you nor do I trust you. Have a good day sir.”
Astounded, the man stood there in disbelief as the boy walked off looking down at his map and scouring the wall.
Finally the boy came to an area of vines that had grown up the wall at least ten feet. He placed his hand into the vines and felt the roughness of weathered wood. Overjoyed he pushed on the door causing it to swing open. He tore down the vines and revealed to the small crowd that now surrounded him the deception that the village had held over all those who had stayed there. He took one glance back at them all and began making his way through the tunnel.
Everyone gasped as they watched him take step after step into the narrowing passage. It was as if the walls were moving against him as he continued.
Finally he could not move any further. Flustered and feeling defeated he cried out and then began to shimmy backwards until he was out of the tunnel and back in the presence of all the villagers.
The man who had talked to him before came over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I told you Son. It is not passable, and we were all better off with that door being hidden. I know, because years ago, I tried and I almost got squished to death in that tunnel,” he said with frustration and sorrow in his voice.
He turned to the crowd and began to teach them and encourage them in all that they had in the village, and that this doorway was simply a trick to try and keep them unsatisfied and searching for something else. The people nodded in agreement as the boy hung his head.
As tears began to fall from his eyes, he looked down and noticed again the parchment in his hands. He read, one more time the words his grandfather had lovingly written. ‘Come through the door, NO MATTER THE COST’.
“No matter the cost,” he whispered.
Just then he reached up and pulled the man’s hand off of his shoulder. He pulled off his backpack and threw the parchment on the ground and ran with full speed through the door and into the tunnel.
All of the people moved to where they could see what would happen next. He made it past where he had gotten stuck before and this time the walls did not move like they had before. As he reached the door on the other side and pushed it open, a blinding light surrounded him and pierced through the tunnel causing everyone to shrink back from the sheer power of it.
The door on the other side closed and the boy was gone. Immediately came shouts and the same fragrant aroma wafted up over the wall. There was rejoicing like they had not heard before.
They stood there looking at each other. The man announced that a meeting at the tent would commence immediately and all were expected to attend.
Most of the crowd followed him, but a few stayed and when they had taken off their backpacks they journeyed through the tunnel and into the light of the Peace that only exists in the castle.
From that day forward there exists a marker beside the door for any who would choose to walk through and into the castle. It is an altar of sorts. An altar that is made of backpacks full of tools that allow those who own them to build and control their own world and destiny, but it stands as a reminder that in order to enter the castle you must first surrender your hold on your life.
Enjoy this song about the realities of what we are called to when we follow Jesus.