There once was a kingdom ruled by a Great and Mighty King, perfect in wisdom, justice, mercy and love. He reigned from a vast city, bright and beautiful, its massive towers, shining and eternal, rising upward out of sight into the clouds. The white wall encircling the city rose hundreds of feet into the air, sheer, smooth, and thick, impossible to climb or penetrate.
All citizens of the kingdom of the Great King could approach His throne freely and directly, day or night, confident the King would accept them and listen carefully to their requests and concerns, responding with perfect wisdom and grace to them. Within the confines of the city, love, and truth, and righteousness were paramount, reflecting the character of its Ruler.
At the only entrance into the city stood a huge monument of glittering stone on which were written words in script twice the height of a man:
“All may enter who love the King and yield themselves to Him, receiving from Him the free gift of adoption into His kingdom and family, forsaking all other allegiances.
None may dwell within who love evil, defy the King, and live in deceit.”
Low and narrow, only able to accommodate the passage of a single person at a time, the sole gateway into the Shining City stood always open and unguarded. Many had passed through it, thinking to dwell in the city in contravention of the King’s inscription. Stepping through the gate, they were all immediately struck blind and wandered the lowest street of the city in confusion, frustration and disappointment. Eventually, these folk exited the City, finding relief in the shadows of the world outside it, their vision restored, glad to be free of the brilliant but blinding demesnes of the Great King.
In the wilderness beyond the walls of the Shining City roamed the terrible lion. This was no ordinary lion that could be hunted and killed, but a huge, enormously powerful and ancient creature whose roar paralyzed all who heard it and whose approach cast blackness over the land and shook the ground. The hunger of the beast was insatiable, his only desire to capture and consume. A countless multitude had died in his horrible, devouring jaws and yet he prowled about always seeking new prey. None who dwelled outside the walls of the Shining City were safe from him.
Many of those who had sought entrance to the King’s City, been blinded, and had returned to the wilderness without the white walls cast off all interest in the King and His City, wandering deep into the dark world beyond, growing blind anew the farther from the City of Light they ventured. But this blindness was gradual, not the stunning, piercing blindness of stepping into the Truth and Light of the Great King’s domain; it developed incrementally, comfortably, deceiving the wilderness wanderer into thinking there was nothing beyond themselves – not the King, nor the terrible lion. Very few ever escaped this darkness, this blinding self-centeredness, except they encountered the emissaries of the King sent out to find them and urge them to return to the safety and Light of His Shining City.
Others, unwilling to live entirely under the rule of the Great King and fearing the dread danger of the roaring lion, had collected at the wall of the Shining City. These were not opposed to the Mighty King, exactly; they just had their own desires and purposes they wanted to pursue. They admired the King, His wisdom and excellence; they held Him in high regard and urged others to do so, too; but they did not love Him – at least, not as much as they loved themselves – and did not want to love Him more. It was enough to know the King sat upon His throne, distant, in the highest tower of the Shining City, hidden in the clouds, not interfering directly in their own affairs, stifling the life they wanted to live.
Once a week, a crowd of these wall-dwellers (which is what they called themselves) would assemble around the inscribed monument, extolling it, singing songs in praise of the King and His city, and performing various rites they believed made them genuine citizens of the Shining City and children of the Great King. Their proximity to the King and His City made them feel less vulnerable to the terrible lion, too, and their weekly observance at the King’s monument, solemnized by long tradition, by leaders saying arcane things, and by a great deal of religious noise and emotion, magnified this feeling.
At any time they wished, a wall-dweller could look walk up to the Narrow Gate in the wall of the Shining City and look through it and assure themselves that, when they had satisfied their own purposes, they would finally pass through the gate and fully embrace the citizenship of their more radical brethren within the City. There was always a steady stream of wall-dwellers approaching the gate, peering through it into the City and then walking away who, in doing so, encouraged each other in this practice. And the more often they peered through the gate and walked away, the less concerned they were about actually going through it. Many of the wall-dwellers, in fact, had ceased altogether to think of passing through the gate, having settled into the notion that mere peering was sufficient.
Those who approached the gate to pass through it – rash youths, primarily, and the broken and desperate - did so often to a loud, protesting clamor from those looking on who knew from personal experience that nothing but blindness and confusion awaited these foolish people. Heeding the wisdom and experience of the clamoring wall-dwellers, many of those intending to actually enter the kingdom of the Great King would turn aside to join the wall-dweller community. Still, a significant number went into the Shining City and did not come out. Their gasps of joy, and cries of delight, and exclamations of surprise could be heard by the wall-dwellers near the gate and, sometimes, they could be seen speaking to a glowing figure, who embraced them and led them away into the city. Often, a short time later, a thunderous chorus of singing would burst from the Shining City, wondrous and beautiful, and those at the wall would weep at the love and light in the sound, the hearts of some aching strangely to pass through the gate into the City, too, never to return.
With no little resentment, the oldest wall-dwellers would denigrate those within the Shining City, saying to each other that being a citizen of the Great King’s kingdom did not require actual entrance into the City. They were His children, too, they argued; they lived against the wall of His City; they worshiped His monument; they burned things, and sang, and prayed to the King; they listened to speeches every week from the sage among them who told them living at the wall made them de facto citizens of the Shining City; and they could look through the gate into the city – and did - whenever they liked. Certainly, wall-dwellers were not as those wicked wretches who shook their fist at the King and His City, shouting angry epithets as they marched off into the Shadowlands. No, they were nothing like them. They loved the sheltering wall of the City, its looming, unshakeable stability; they admired the impressive monument of the King and the marvelous words He’d written upon it; they took great comfort in the familiarity of their traditions and rituals that made them children of the Great King. There was no doubt that they were in the kingdom of the King even though they remained outside the boundary of His realm; the wall-dwellers were as close to it as possible, which was, they were all convinced, as good as being inside the city.
Wall-dwellers disappeared regularly, however, carried off between the glistening yellow fangs of the lion into the depths of the Shadowland to be consumed. (This never happened to those within the Shining City which the lion could not enter.) As a result, fear and uncertainty plagued the wall-dwellers who often resorted to superstition to calm themselves. They would mutter things, and carry baubles, and enact small rituals to ward off the terrible lion, over time growing so bound in these things - though never actually relieved of their fears - that the odor of their anxiety and the activity of their superstitions inevitably drew the attention of the lion.
But a Great Prophecy declared that a Day would come when the King would rise from His throne and venture forth from His tower and destroy the terrible lion, bringing all outside His city, near and far, to give account to Him for their lives, as His holy justice required. On that Day, everyone without the City would stand in shocked dismay to hear the Great King say to them, “Depart from me. I never knew you.” They would find Him a wrathful Judge, not a tender, loving Father, His question to each of them the same: Why did you not dwell with me within my city? None of them will be able to say they were not welcome; none of them will be able to say they were forced out by the King; none of them will be able to say there was no way to enter His city. They will be without excuse, every one of them.
To these strangers the Great King will say, “I made a way for you to be one of my own. You had only to pass through the Narrow Gate in the manner prescribed on my monument and I would have joyfully received you as my child. You did not have to observe traditions, or endure long sermons, or worship my monument to become one of my own. My kingdom was yours for the taking, freely given, a gift made ready for occupation, filled with my love, joy and peace. I required only that you love me and that you accept me as your King. But you all serve another king: Yourselves. You are each your own ruler and will be ruled by no other. This is what has kept you from my domain and my love. And so, you are granted the desire of your heart. You will have yourselves as king for all eternity, forever separated from my unwanted rule and realm, apart from my Light, dwelling alone in your own black shadow. Begone.”
Great will be the cry of the wall-dwellers as they realize that close was not close enough; that moving near to the gate and looking through it was not sufficient; that admiring the way to salvation and extolling its virtues did not confer citizenship in the Great King’s realm. Only passing through the Narrow Gate the King’s way and dwelling in His City made a person one of the King’s own.
All citizens of the kingdom of the Great King could approach His throne freely and directly, day or night, confident the King would accept them and listen carefully to their requests and concerns, responding with perfect wisdom and grace to them. Within the confines of the city, love, and truth, and righteousness were paramount, reflecting the character of its Ruler.
At the only entrance into the city stood a huge monument of glittering stone on which were written words in script twice the height of a man:
“All may enter who love the King and yield themselves to Him, receiving from Him the free gift of adoption into His kingdom and family, forsaking all other allegiances.
None may dwell within who love evil, defy the King, and live in deceit.”
Low and narrow, only able to accommodate the passage of a single person at a time, the sole gateway into the Shining City stood always open and unguarded. Many had passed through it, thinking to dwell in the city in contravention of the King’s inscription. Stepping through the gate, they were all immediately struck blind and wandered the lowest street of the city in confusion, frustration and disappointment. Eventually, these folk exited the City, finding relief in the shadows of the world outside it, their vision restored, glad to be free of the brilliant but blinding demesnes of the Great King.
In the wilderness beyond the walls of the Shining City roamed the terrible lion. This was no ordinary lion that could be hunted and killed, but a huge, enormously powerful and ancient creature whose roar paralyzed all who heard it and whose approach cast blackness over the land and shook the ground. The hunger of the beast was insatiable, his only desire to capture and consume. A countless multitude had died in his horrible, devouring jaws and yet he prowled about always seeking new prey. None who dwelled outside the walls of the Shining City were safe from him.
Many of those who had sought entrance to the King’s City, been blinded, and had returned to the wilderness without the white walls cast off all interest in the King and His City, wandering deep into the dark world beyond, growing blind anew the farther from the City of Light they ventured. But this blindness was gradual, not the stunning, piercing blindness of stepping into the Truth and Light of the Great King’s domain; it developed incrementally, comfortably, deceiving the wilderness wanderer into thinking there was nothing beyond themselves – not the King, nor the terrible lion. Very few ever escaped this darkness, this blinding self-centeredness, except they encountered the emissaries of the King sent out to find them and urge them to return to the safety and Light of His Shining City.
Others, unwilling to live entirely under the rule of the Great King and fearing the dread danger of the roaring lion, had collected at the wall of the Shining City. These were not opposed to the Mighty King, exactly; they just had their own desires and purposes they wanted to pursue. They admired the King, His wisdom and excellence; they held Him in high regard and urged others to do so, too; but they did not love Him – at least, not as much as they loved themselves – and did not want to love Him more. It was enough to know the King sat upon His throne, distant, in the highest tower of the Shining City, hidden in the clouds, not interfering directly in their own affairs, stifling the life they wanted to live.
Once a week, a crowd of these wall-dwellers (which is what they called themselves) would assemble around the inscribed monument, extolling it, singing songs in praise of the King and His city, and performing various rites they believed made them genuine citizens of the Shining City and children of the Great King. Their proximity to the King and His City made them feel less vulnerable to the terrible lion, too, and their weekly observance at the King’s monument, solemnized by long tradition, by leaders saying arcane things, and by a great deal of religious noise and emotion, magnified this feeling.
At any time they wished, a wall-dweller could look walk up to the Narrow Gate in the wall of the Shining City and look through it and assure themselves that, when they had satisfied their own purposes, they would finally pass through the gate and fully embrace the citizenship of their more radical brethren within the City. There was always a steady stream of wall-dwellers approaching the gate, peering through it into the City and then walking away who, in doing so, encouraged each other in this practice. And the more often they peered through the gate and walked away, the less concerned they were about actually going through it. Many of the wall-dwellers, in fact, had ceased altogether to think of passing through the gate, having settled into the notion that mere peering was sufficient.
Those who approached the gate to pass through it – rash youths, primarily, and the broken and desperate - did so often to a loud, protesting clamor from those looking on who knew from personal experience that nothing but blindness and confusion awaited these foolish people. Heeding the wisdom and experience of the clamoring wall-dwellers, many of those intending to actually enter the kingdom of the Great King would turn aside to join the wall-dweller community. Still, a significant number went into the Shining City and did not come out. Their gasps of joy, and cries of delight, and exclamations of surprise could be heard by the wall-dwellers near the gate and, sometimes, they could be seen speaking to a glowing figure, who embraced them and led them away into the city. Often, a short time later, a thunderous chorus of singing would burst from the Shining City, wondrous and beautiful, and those at the wall would weep at the love and light in the sound, the hearts of some aching strangely to pass through the gate into the City, too, never to return.
With no little resentment, the oldest wall-dwellers would denigrate those within the Shining City, saying to each other that being a citizen of the Great King’s kingdom did not require actual entrance into the City. They were His children, too, they argued; they lived against the wall of His City; they worshiped His monument; they burned things, and sang, and prayed to the King; they listened to speeches every week from the sage among them who told them living at the wall made them de facto citizens of the Shining City; and they could look through the gate into the city – and did - whenever they liked. Certainly, wall-dwellers were not as those wicked wretches who shook their fist at the King and His City, shouting angry epithets as they marched off into the Shadowlands. No, they were nothing like them. They loved the sheltering wall of the City, its looming, unshakeable stability; they admired the impressive monument of the King and the marvelous words He’d written upon it; they took great comfort in the familiarity of their traditions and rituals that made them children of the Great King. There was no doubt that they were in the kingdom of the King even though they remained outside the boundary of His realm; the wall-dwellers were as close to it as possible, which was, they were all convinced, as good as being inside the city.
Wall-dwellers disappeared regularly, however, carried off between the glistening yellow fangs of the lion into the depths of the Shadowland to be consumed. (This never happened to those within the Shining City which the lion could not enter.) As a result, fear and uncertainty plagued the wall-dwellers who often resorted to superstition to calm themselves. They would mutter things, and carry baubles, and enact small rituals to ward off the terrible lion, over time growing so bound in these things - though never actually relieved of their fears - that the odor of their anxiety and the activity of their superstitions inevitably drew the attention of the lion.
But a Great Prophecy declared that a Day would come when the King would rise from His throne and venture forth from His tower and destroy the terrible lion, bringing all outside His city, near and far, to give account to Him for their lives, as His holy justice required. On that Day, everyone without the City would stand in shocked dismay to hear the Great King say to them, “Depart from me. I never knew you.” They would find Him a wrathful Judge, not a tender, loving Father, His question to each of them the same: Why did you not dwell with me within my city? None of them will be able to say they were not welcome; none of them will be able to say they were forced out by the King; none of them will be able to say there was no way to enter His city. They will be without excuse, every one of them.
To these strangers the Great King will say, “I made a way for you to be one of my own. You had only to pass through the Narrow Gate in the manner prescribed on my monument and I would have joyfully received you as my child. You did not have to observe traditions, or endure long sermons, or worship my monument to become one of my own. My kingdom was yours for the taking, freely given, a gift made ready for occupation, filled with my love, joy and peace. I required only that you love me and that you accept me as your King. But you all serve another king: Yourselves. You are each your own ruler and will be ruled by no other. This is what has kept you from my domain and my love. And so, you are granted the desire of your heart. You will have yourselves as king for all eternity, forever separated from my unwanted rule and realm, apart from my Light, dwelling alone in your own black shadow. Begone.”
Great will be the cry of the wall-dwellers as they realize that close was not close enough; that moving near to the gate and looking through it was not sufficient; that admiring the way to salvation and extolling its virtues did not confer citizenship in the Great King’s realm. Only passing through the Narrow Gate the King’s way and dwelling in His City made a person one of the King’s own.
