"Me?" Tony was surprised. "Why would I want to keep them standing?"
"You built these walls to keep you safe, or at least for the imagination of safe. They substitute for trust. You are beginning to understand that trusting is an arduous journey."
"So, I needed these walls?"
"When you believe that you alone are the only one who can be trusted, then yes, you need these walls. Self protective measures, intended to keep evil out, often wall it in. What initially kept you safe can eventually destroy you."
"But don't I need walls? Aren't they good things?"
He felt the hug from behind. "You need boundaries," said the voice of Jesus, "but not walls. Walls divide while boundaries honor." Tony let himself relax into this tender embrace, his tears unexpectedly appearing and spilling softly onto the ground.
"Even in our material creation," continue Jesus, "boundaries mark those beautiful of places, between the ocean and the shore, between the mountains and the planes, where the canyon meets the river. We will teach you how to thrill with us in the boundaries while you learn to trust us with your security and safety. One day you will no longer need walls."
Even as he spoke, Tony could sense more internal walls crumbling. Not disappearing, but tangibly impacted by an inner knowledge that he was utterly excepted, with all his flaws and losses, all his conditioning and pride. Was this love? Was this what it was like to be loved?
Cross Roads by William Paul Young
