Our Stories

Trizia

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, Luke 4:18

From the first time I encountered the Village I knew that things could be different.  Having come from Germany only a decade before, I struggled with the cultural differences.  My marriage, my parenting, my relationships, and ultimately my mental state were affected.

I will never forget the first Sunday of July in 2002.  It was almost five o'clock in the evening, when we pulled up at an unfamiliar place.  People were loitering under the awning of an old building --guys in baggy shorts and cut-off jeans, ponytails and shaggy beards over tee-shirts.  A fairylike woman with flowing long hair invited us in.  The entryway was crowded with more people, sipping sodas, talking.  Strangers were asking me questions about my life.  This was not polite chit-chat.  There was honest interest and a strange fearlessness; I was intrigued.  The main room was dimly lit, disguising some of its shabby ugliness.  Three or four musicians took their places and started to play.  A striking young woman with a haunting voice sang songs of trials and longing; Celtic and Slavic sounds with English words, deep and moving.   This was promising to be the most peculiar church service I had ever attended. 

All through the next week my children talked about a boy they had met at the Village and about going to see him.  The following Sunday evening I met the mom of this boy and she asked us to come to her house that week for an afternoon visit.  I was offered an unusual kind of hospitality:  instead of hiding all evidence of
daily home life from her guests, she invited me into her life.  I felt truly welcome.  By the end of the summer I began to understand why this community chose the name "the Village" for itself.  The people of the Village interact with each other as if indeed they lived in a very small village somewhere far-off.  They get to know each other, often over coffee or a meal, and forge real friendships that transcend church business.

I found out that the secret which makes this community life work is a mutual agreement to appreciate differences.   This is most evident in the way disagreements are handled.  Instead of arguing to convince each other of opposing opinions, they'll ask each other questions until they see the other's point of view.  This kind of respect was astonishing to me.  As I looked closer I discovered that the underlying attitude was one of genuine care -- not just among friends, but toward people in general.  In this nonthreatening environment I found the courage to stop pretending.  There is something deeply healing in authentic living.  Compulsions, fears, restlessness, they all give way when the purpose they served no longer exists.  It requires honesty, but relieves pressure.  It cost my image, but it bought liberty. 

Getting involved with the Village improved the quality of my life.  My mental and emotional energy are no longer drained by futile attempts to look like I fit in with American culture.  I learned to embrace my differentness and to live out of my true identity.  This has given me the opportunity to offer grace instead of judgment and to encourage others to step out of hiding.  Freedom is contagious!