Theo and Golden Communities - Everything You Can Imagine Is Real

“The kingdom of God is among you.”— Luke 17:21

Over the past few months, people kept telling me, “You really need to read Theo of Golden.”

I am envisioning Cashmere as a "Golden" Community. Everything you can imagine is real.

One friend mentioned it over coffee. A few weeks later someone else brought it up. Then another. I finally bought the novel, started reading it, and, to be perfectly honest, wondered what everyone was talking about. Nothing dramatic seemed to happen.

There were no breathtaking plot twists, no gripping suspense, no unforgettable heroes charging into battle. It was simply the story of an older man visiting a small Southern town. After a few chapters I quietly set the book aside.

Then someone else asked if I had read it.

A little later another person recommended it.

By the fifth recommendation I found myself asking a different question. Why this book? Thousands of novels are published every year. Why had so many thoughtful people insisted that this quiet little story was worth my time?

So I picked it up again.

This week, after finishing the novel and discovering there was far more to discuss than I had expected, a friend and I spent a long time talking about it. We compared the scenes that had moved us and the characters we found ourselves thinking about long after we had closed the book. I kept thinking what is this story all about and what is it offering to the world, to me?

Theo, in his eighties, is the quiet center of the story. He is kind without being sentimental, generous without drawing attention to himself, wise without sounding preachy. He notices people everyone else overlooks. He remembers names. He listens carefully. He asks questions that invite people to tell the truth about themselves. He sees beauty alongside sorrow and grief, even saintliness in ordinary people. Somehow people leave his presence a little lighter, a little more hopeful, a little more willing to believe that life can be good again.

Yet Theo rarely tries to fix anyone. He doesn't lecture people into becoming better human beings. He doesn't argue, manipulate, or shame them. He simply has a way of making everyone around him want to become a better version of themselves. His kindness awakens kindness. His generosity calls forth generosity. His attentiveness reminds people that they matter.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the town of Golden begins to change.

Neighbors become friends. Old wounds begin to heal. People discover gifts they had forgotten they possessed. Loveliness appears in unexpected places. Lonely people are noticed. Conversations become deeper. The community itself grows warmer, kinder, and more hopeful.

Cashmere, the small golden town with a big heart - everything you can imagine is real.

That was the moment something clicked for me.

As I thought about my own little town of Cashmere, I began to wonder. What if it looked a little more like Golden? Imagine a place where people genuinely look out for one another. Imagine children growing up knowing they are valued. Imagine strangers becoming neighbors, forgiveness becoming more common than resentment, generosity becoming ordinary rather than exceptional. Imagine beauty being created simply because beauty nourishes the human spirit. It WOULD be Golden.

How would such a place come to be in fiction, in reality?

Allen Levi never has Theo announce that he is transforming the town. In fact, Theo hardly seems aware that he is doing anything remarkable. Yet his presence changes the emotional climate wherever he goes. People begin treating one another differently, and that difference spreads from one relationship to another until an entire community is affected.

The town becomes the kind of place where people flourish because they help one another flourish. It becomes the sort of community where compassion is contagious, where beauty is treasured, and where regular people quietly bring out the best in one another.

Perhaps that is why so many people urged me to read this novel.

It wasn't because Theo is such an unforgettable character, although he certainly is. I couldn't help wondering whether Allen Levi chose Theo's name intentionally. Theo comes from the Greek word for God, and the character may quietly remind the reader of Jesus—not because he preaches, but because lives are changed simply by being with him.

More than anything, the novel awakened a longing many of us carry without quite knowing how to describe. We long to live in communities where people matter, where kindness is normal, where loneliness is noticed, where children are cherished, and where beauty and generosity are woven into everyday life.

Cashmere becoming Golden in my mind anyway... everything you can imagine is real....

Jesus had a name for a place, well really more like a way of living, like that. He called it the Kingdom of God. My guess is that Golden is an allegory for a "place," or rather a way of being, where the Kingdom of God is taking root.

Let me take a short lateral here to introduce how I view the Kingdom of God from my own reading of the scriptures. It's where every person has sacred worth, where compassion is stronger than fear, where justice and mercy go hand-in-hand, where community replaces isolation, where forgiveness breaks cycles of hate, and love is the highest law. But I really could not picture it until I read about Golden. And as Picasso said, "Everything you can imagine is real."

I don't expect Cashmere to become Golden overnight. Then again, perhaps neither a fully developed Golden (we see some real problems in the book and in real life) nor the Kingdom of God appears overnight.

Perhaps how Golden grows is one conversation, one welcome, one act of forgiveness, one generous decision at a time. If enough of us become the sort of people whose presence encourages others to become their best selves, maybe our neighborhoods begin to change. Maybe our towns become places where people flourish together.

After I finished Theo of Golden, I went to help at our weekly community meal. Earlier that day I noticed that I was not wanting to go. For several weeks two of the men had been locked in conflict. Each insisted the other was to blame. Each tried to recruit others to his side. It was happening right there at our beautiful little community meal. It literally hurt my heart. But after reading about Golden, I was encouraged. Hopeful.

Earlier I had been contemplating punishments for these guys - timeouts, giving each of the men a good talking to, and perhaps throw in a sermon. Nevermind that we were supposed to be creating community and loving our neighbors.

Creating a Golden Community Meal, everything you can imagine is real.

After a little time with Theo and Golden, I found myself speaking more gently, smiling more easily, offering a reassuring touch on a shoulder here and there—even toward the two men. I don't know whether it changed them, but it certainly changed me.

That evening I heard no angry exchanges, saw no drama, and felt none of the tension that had hung over the room at least for me in previous weeks. Maybe that was coincidence. Or maybe gentleness really can change the atmosphere of a place.

As I finished the book, another thought came to me. Why did five different people recommend this quiet little novel? I don't think they were simply telling me about a good book. I think they were inviting me into a vision of the kind of world they long to live in. They were saying, in effect, "This is the kind of neighbor I hope to become. This is the kind of community I hope we can build together."

Perhaps that is why I am recommending it to you. Not because it is fast-paced or impossible to put down, but because it is the kind of book that quietly changes the way you look at people. Read it slowly. Better yet, read it with a friend or a book group. Talk about it over coffee. Ask yourselves how your family, your workplace, your neighborhood, or your town might become just a little more like Golden. Imagine it.

Three simple ways we can help our communities become a little more like Golden this week:

Choose one place where you regularly spend time—a neighborhood, workplace, volunteer group, or circle of friends—and ask yourself, "What small act could make this community just a little kinder?"

Practice noticing the overlooked. Learn someone's name. Ask about their story. Give someone your full attention. Being noticed is one of the greatest gifts we can offer another human being.

Being noticed, asking someone more about themselves, listening attentively is one of the greatest gifts we can give each other: everything we can imagine is real. We can make our communities Golden.

At the end of each day, ask yourself, "Did my presence make this place just a little more like Golden? Did someone leave feeling more hopeful because our paths crossed today?"

How might we journey together to The Good Life, imagining Golden, and taking actions to create our own Golden community (and perhaps living more into the Kingdom of God)?