When we don’t feel safe in a relationship, something fundamental shifts. Instead of seeking connection, we instinctively move into protection mode. It’s a survival mechanism, deeply wired into our beings. Our hearts retreat behind walls, our voices become cautious or silent, and fear takes the driver’s seat.

This dynamic is painfully evident in many Evangelical churches, where fear of judgment, shame, and even excommunication casts a shadow over spiritual life. For those who dare to question, to wrestle with doubts, or to express dissent, the stakes can feel impossibly high. Will I still belong? Will I be seen as “dangerous” or “rebellious”? Will I lose my community? These are not small fears—they strike at the very core of what it means to be human: our need for belonging and love.

In environments like this, vulnerability becomes too risky, and authenticity is sacrificed. People learn to conform, to stay silent, to hide parts of themselves—ironically, in the very spaces that are supposed to be sanctuaries of healing.

But what if we could imagine something radically different?

I envision the creation of spaces where people feel safe—truly safe. Spaces where they can share their doubts, their stories, and their truths without fear of judgment or rejection. A place where shame is replaced by compassion, and where acceptance isn’t contingent on adhering to every line of doctrine.

These spaces would be rooted in love and belonging. Not the surface-level kind of “love” that fades the moment someone steps out of line, but a deep, abiding love that holds space for differences, for questions, and even for the messy, beautiful process of spiritual growth.

Imagine walking into a circle where you know you’re not just tolerated but cherished—where your presence matters and your voice is valued. A place where you can breathe deeply, let your guard down, and be fully yourself. This is what true spiritual community could look like.

Creating such spaces requires courage, humility, and a willingness to unlearn old ways of being. It calls us to shift from systems of control to cultures of care. It challenges us to ask hard questions about how power is wielded and how love is expressed.

But the vision is worth it. Because when people feel safe, they thrive. They open up. They connect. And isn’t that the heart of all spiritual journeys? To be fully seen, fully known, and fully loved?

This is my dream: to see communities rise where safety and belonging are foundational. A place where people can come as they are, without fear, and experience the transformative power of love.