Photo by Billy Huynh on Unsplash
(A fifteen-minute read.)
(Note: I’m going way outside my typical genre to bring you a (perhaps thinly-veiled) allegory. I’m trying my hand at something new. And spoiler: I’m no modern-day C. S. Lewis. But as I thought about the topic I wanted to cover this week, I thought I’d put it into allegory. As a result, my piece this week is longer than anything I’ve written for my newsletters, but I hope you’ll stick with it. Enjoy!)
The kingdom of God is like two brothers who lived in a nice house next to a big forest.
When they were young boys, their parents took them to the back yard and their father said to them, “Charles and Doulos, you must never leave our yard. You must always stay within the fenced-in area, and never, ever, ever go into the forest.”
“OK, Father,” they nodded in agreement.
“But,” Charles wondered, “why can’t we ever go into the forest?”
“Because,” Father responded, “it’s a big and dangerous place. It’s unsafe for little boys like you, and you could easily get lost.”
“Besides,” Mother added, “you have everything you could ever need or want in our backyard. So please don’t wander beyond it.”
“Yes, Mother,” both Charles and Doulos responded, committing to the wishes of their parents.
Over the years, the two boys discovered the joy of their backyard. They played on the swing-set their parents bought for them, which had a fun slide; climbed and swung from the trees that stood within the confines of the fence; and splashed around in a small kiddie pool on hot summer days.
They played games, built forts, and rejoiced in the glory of their fortunes.
Every once in a while, however, they’d peek through the fence, longingly and curiously looking into the deep, dark, and mysterious forest, wondering what was out there. They even found themselves daydreaming about exploring its hidden corners and crevices.
Yet such a thought quickly disappeared, as they recalled their parents’ instructions and warnings. This was solidified all the more in their minds when they’d hear hoots and screeches coming from deep within the forest.
“Mother and Father must know what they’re talking about,” they’d say to each other. “They just want to keep us safe.”
Yet as the days and years passed, Charles especially became more and more tempted to hop over the fence and explore the woods. He’d ask Doulos if he wanted to try—to just explore the woods for a few seconds, seeing what they could discover.
But Doulos reminded Charles of what their parents said, and urged him to banish the thought.
“Besides,” Doulos said, “have our parents ever misled us?”
He then reminded Charles of all the times Father and Mother had demonstrated their trustworthiness, and how all their other restrictions had been for their safety and protection.
“We must be obedient,” Doulos said. “It’s for our own good.”
Satisfied, Charles moved on, also realizing he didn’t want to get in trouble anyway.
And then one day, Charles and Doulos’s parents suddenly and unexpectedly died. The boys were devastated.
At this point, however, they were old enough to live in their house on their own, having reached the age of independence.
And one of the first things Charles thought of was finally hopping the fence and exploring the big forest.
Excited about the idea, he urged the thought upon Doulos, inviting him to join him on the adventure.
“No way!” Doulos exclaimed. “We can’t do that! Father and Mother told us to never go into the forest. It’s not safe for us! We don’t know what’s out there! And we’ve heard scary noises! And one of our neighbors told me about how one of his sons went into the forest and never came back. And besides, our backyard has everything we could ever want or need.”
“You know, Doulos,” Charles replied, “I don’t think Father and Mother literally meant that we were to never go into the forest. We were just young when they told us that, and they knew we weren’t big enough to safely explore it at that young age. But now that we’re older, we can handle it.”
Doulos began shaking as Charles explained this. He couldn’t comprehend it. It made him anxious and scared just thinking about it. For years he had followed his parents’ instructions—and it had always kept him safe.
Desperately trying to deter Charles from the temptation, he passionately cried out, “Charles, if you really loved our parents, you wouldn’t even think about going into the forest—never mind actually doing it.”
Doulos’s passionate appeals worked, and Charles decided to heed his voice. He decided to stay safely within the confines of their backyard.
But the allure of the big forest wouldn’t go away, and each day the temptation got stronger and stronger and stronger.
Until, finally, one hot day, as Charles and Doulos splashed around in their kiddie pool, covered in three inches of water, Charles stood up and resolutely declared, “I’m going.”
Ignoring the pleadings of Doulos, he daringly walked toward the fence, and with his heart pounding, climbed over it and slowly crept toward the forest.
“Don’t go!” Doulos kept screaming. “Don’t go! It’s dangerous! It’s dangerous!”
But Charles would not be deterred.
Putting one foot in front of the other, he slowly and pensively walked into the forest, his eyes wide open and his heart racing. He carefully navigated through the brush. And with each step deeper into the forest, the sound of Doulos’s cries—“Come back! Come back!”—got fainter and fainter.
Until, finally, he could hear them no more.
Instead, Doulos’s cries were replaced by the calls of strange birds he’d never seen before. And then he saw weird animals that occasionally ran across his path. Some of them would look at him and hiss, which caused him to jump back a little; others would ignore him altogether.
Still, a few inched toward him, and even brushed themselves affectionately against his legs.
At one point, a giant snake dangled down from a tree, causing him to leap back in fright.
But as Charles continued his exploration, he began noticing trees and flowers and bushes he’d never seen before. And the deeper he went into the woods, the bigger and taller the trees got—and the more vivid and colorful and beautiful the flowers got.
And then he heard the faint sound of something in the distance. He couldn’t quite make it out. But as he continued walking, the sound got louder and louder.
Until, at last, he came upon the source of the sound: it was a giant waterfall, tumbling over a high cliff.
The scene caused his heart to jump. He had never witnessed anything like it before. Curious about how high the cliff was, he slowly crept toward its edge and peaked over the side. It gently descended down about 100 feet to a huge pool with crystal-clear water.
And then, as he was looking over the landscape, suddenly he saw something that caught his eye. On the right side of the waterfall, he noticed there was a natural, gently-descending waterslide that went all the way from the top of the waterfall down to the pool.
Is it safe to slide down that? he wondered, his heart racing at the question.
But then, as he was pondering the question, he noticed there were words carved into a big rock next to the slide. Inching closer, he was finally able to make them out.
“Fear,” the words declared, “is not a fruit of the Spirit.”
Fear is not a fruit of the Spirit? he whispered to himself. Fear is not a fruit of the Spirit, he repeated again. He said it to himself a few times, trying to convince himself of its truth.
But as he was thinking about this, he heard voices coming from down below. He carefully looked over the edge again and noticed what he hadn’t noticed before: there, in the pool, were a bunch of people—some his age, some older. They were splashing around and having fun.
After watching them for a few seconds, one of them—a boy around his age—finally noticed him, and yelled out, “Hey you! Are you going to come down here?”
Somewhat apprehensive, Charles screamed back, “Maybe? How do I get down there?”
“You have to go down the slide!” the boy said. “That’s the only way.”
“Is it safe?” Charles responded.
“Mostly,” the boy answered. “But it’s just like the rock up there says: ‘Fear is not a fruit of the Spirit.’”
Charles again repeated the phrase, trying to convince himself to take the plunge.
Finally, after debating—for what seemed like—an eternity, he made the decision: he’d go down the slide.
With his heart pounding and his head spinning, he sat down at the top of the slide, took a deep breath, and then nudged himself down. With a thrill and excitement he’d never experienced before, he slid down the rocks.
Pure euphoria!
It was the most unbelievable feeling he’d ever had in his entire life. The whole way down was a wild but glorious ride.
But just as he reached the bottom, his right foot jabbed into the side of the slide, stubbing his big toe.
“Owww!” he screeched, feeling a deep stab of pain.
But then he reached the bottom of the slide and slid into the pool of water. It felt gloriously refreshing.
The boy who’d been calling out to him quickly swam over.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Charles said. “I just stubbed my toe a little. But it doesn’t hurt too bad.”
“Come on,” the boy invited, leading him to the middle of the pool where the others were splashing around and having fun.
As Charles swam over, the pain in his toe got less and less—until, after a few minutes, he didn’t feel it anymore.
“Have you ever been in clearer water?” one girl yelled out to him. “You can see everything!”
Charles looked down and saw all sorts of exotic fish, bright with colors he’d never seen before. He also noticed that he couldn’t see the bottom.
“How deep is this water?” he asked the girl.
“Nobody knows,” she responded, shrugging her shoulders. “It seems to be bottomless. My friend Darash went down probably 300 feet and still couldn’t see the bottom.”
“Three hundred feet?” Charles replied with amazement. “That’s crazy! And kind of scary!”
“I guess?” the girl answered. “I’ve been down about 200 feet, and the really crazy thing is, the deeper you go, the brighter it gets. And I saw even more fish—ones I’ve never seen before—each one more beautiful and colorful than the next.”
For the next hour or so, Charles reveled in the glory of the crystal-clear pool, plunging under the surface and trying to go as deep as he could, making a little more progress each time.
And then, suddenly, he remembered Doulos.
“I’ve got to go get my brother!” he blurted out. “He would absolutely love this!”
Without giving it much thought, he swam over to the side of the water and carefully and slowly scaled the cliffs.
When he made it to the top, he retraced his steps back towards his house, dodging animals and birds and snakes, still basking in the joy of his adventure.
And then he started hearing a familiar noise. And as he got closer to the edge of the forest, he realized what it was.
“Come back!” he heard Doulos calling out. “Come back!”
Only, the closer he got, and the louder the cry got, he realized it was not just his brother’s voice, but many voices calling out.
And then, finally, he came to the edge of the forest, and, peering through the trees, he could see that there was a whole group of people—dozens and dozens of people—all standing in the backyard, inside the fenced-in area. There were friends and neighbors and aunts and uncles and people from his church.
And, in perfect unison, they were all yelling out “Come back! Come back!”
But then alas he stepped out of the woods, and suddenly, the cries of “Come back!” turned into deafening rejoicing. Everyone gasped and shouted out “Hallelujah!” and “Amen!” His aunt burst into tears; a neighbor fainted and fell to the ground.
“You’ve returned!” he heard someone shout. He looked over and noticed it was his pastor.
“The lost has been found!” another screamed.
“Our prayers have been answered!” Doulos cried.
But as Charles inched closer to the yard, he stopped at the fence and leaned over it, his arms resting on the top. With a look of great joy, he could contain his excitement no longer. “Doulos!” he started, “you’ve got to come back with me to the forest. It was the most glorious adventure I’ve ever had.”
He then described everything he saw and encountered—from the tall trees to the exotic birds to the giant waterfall. And, of course, the crystal-clear pool, with all the beautiful fish, that seemed to have no bottom—and the waterslide that gave him the most euphoric feeling he’d ever experienced.
Much to his utter shock and surprise, Doulos responded with great consternation. “Never!” he yelled out. “Never! Father and Mother told us to never go into the forest. It’s too dangerous and unsafe! And besides, we have amazing trees in our yard, a nice pool, and a swing-set with an awesome slide. What more could we want?”
“What’s come over you?” his aunt yelled out incredulously. “Someone has gotten to you. They’ve cast a spell over you.”
“I’m going back!” Charles said. “I can’t stay here anymore. I’ve seen and experienced too much.”
“No!” everyone cried out in unison. “You can’t!”
Right then, an older man, with a long beard, stepped forward and, with great consternation, started pleading with Charles.
“When I was your age, I went into that forest as well,” he began. “And it was so dangerous and scary! There were strange animals and hissing snakes everywhere. And there were cliffs a thousand feet tall that would certainly kill you if you fell down them. I even scraped my arm on a rock and started bleeding a little. Didn’t you see all that? Didn’t you notice how unsafe it was?”
“Yeah,” Charles responded, “there was definitely some things that were a little dangerous. But I hardly noticed them because I was so taken in with the beauty and the vastness and the enchantment. It was wide open and glorious and ravaging. There were no fences and endless possibilities. I wasn’t bothered with the danger because the danger was eclipsed by the wonder. I was too busy looking at the beauty to notice the danger.”
“Hmmpphh,” the man replied. “Enchantment all right. You’ve been enchanted to the point of blindness. You can’t see. You’ve been deceived and will slide right down that slippery waterslide into eternal ruin. You watch! Don’t say I didn’t warn you! I’ve at least done my part and feel like my conscience is clear.”
And with that, the old man turned around and walked away, shaking his head.
Then, suddenly, another man stepped forward, wearing a neat suit and holding a black book. Clearing his throat, he started in.
“Charles,” he said, “we’ve come across your parents’ will. You may not realize this, but they were very rich. And they left all of their fortune to you and Doulos. And after everything’s settled, there should be about seven million dollars that comes to each of you.”
Though Charles knew his parents did well financially, he didn’t realize they did that well. Seven million dollars was a lot of money.
“There’s just one thing,” the man continued. “The will stipulated that the money would go to you only if you were living an obedient life—living according to their beliefs and wishes. And we’ve all been talking about it, and we all agree that going into the forest contradicts that stipulation.”
“But,” he continued, offering a little hope, “we think that if you admit you made a mistake and agree to not go back into the forest, your disobedience will be forgiven and you can still collect the money.”
“Is this what a judge has said?” Charles wondered.
“What do you mean?” the man responded.
“Have you had a judge already make a ruling on this? Did he say that me going into the forest means I forfeit my inheritance?”
“Well,” the man hemmed and hawed. “No . . . not exactly. But we’ve all looked at the will. And, to us, it’s very, very clear. I mean, it’s hard to deny the plain reading of it. It’s obvious: going into the forest is an act of disobedience and an automatic forfeiture of your inheritance.”
Charles thought about it for a second, debating what he should do. Was it worth the risk? Was the money more important, and would it be more satisfying, than what he’d experienced in the forest?
He made up his mind. Turning around, he started walking back toward the forest.
“Are you going back into the forest?” Doulos screamed out. “Don’t go! It’s dangerous! And you’ll be throwing away your inheritance if you go!”
But Charles would not be deterred. He kept marching toward the forest.
Making his way into the edges of the woods, he looked back at the yard one last time, and noticed that Doulos had retreated to the little kiddie pool and was sitting down in the water, all of three inches deep.
Shrugging his shoulders, Charles yelled out, “Fear is not a fruit of the Spirit.”
Then, he stepped into the forest and never looked back. And he never returned.
His last memory of Doulos was of him sitting in that little kiddie pool, ankle-deep in water.
Three months later, as Charles swam around in the crystal-clear pool that had no bottom, a man suddenly swam up to him with a smile on his face. “Hey Charles! Do you remember me?”
Charles looked at the man, trying to remember where he’d seen him before. He suddenly realized it was the man in the suit who had told him about his parents’ will. Only, now he was just wearing a small Speedo.
“Oh, yeah! You’re the guy who told me about my parents’ will!” he acknowledged.
“Yes! That’s right,” the man responded. “And I came out here to let you know something amazing: the judge finally ruled on your parents’ will and determined that coming into the forest didn’t forfeit your inheritance. You weren’t in violation of their will. You get the seven million dollars! I was wrong! I guess the will wasn’t as clear and obvious as I had thought.”
The news excited Charles, but not as much as the man had expected.
“That’s really cool!” Charles responded. “But I was fine if I didn’t get it. This place is too glorious and beautiful—and is worth far more than seven million dollars anyway. But I guess that money is just the icing on the cake.”
Amazed at Charles’s response, the man in the Speedo said he had decided to stay in the forest himself. He had seen its glory and beauty and didn’t want to return either.
And he and Charles and everyone else in the forest lived happily ever after—climbing the tall trees and discovering new waterfalls and swimming deeper and deeper in the bottomless pool, discovering new fish.
And occasionally, they stubbed their toes or got cuts from the branches of the trees—but the pain didn’t linger very long.
Yet all the while, Doulos stayed back at his house, splashing around in his kiddie pool, safely within the confines of his fenced-in backyard.
But occasionally, he’d remember the last thing Charles said—“Fear is not a fruit of the Spirit”—and it would haunt him a little, causing him to wonder if he was living in fear.
Just as quickly, though, he’d shrug his shoulders and comfort himself with the thought: “I’m not living in fear,” he’d reassure himself. “I’m just being responsible.”
He who has ears to hear, let him hear.
Shawn is a pastor in Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil (PhD) candidate at the University of Oxford, focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.
Very thought-provoking. Trying to decide who I identify with in the allegory. To some of my friends I am Doulos, and to others I am his brother. In my opinion, I am the brother with the exception that I return to the yard daily. 😂
I do love a good allegory, especially one that makes me think about my own perceptions of truth! Thanks for writing this, Shawn.