The Staircase

The Staircase

I have a stairway inside me. The end is deep within me, nestled where my hopes and dreams used to reside. I haven’t been down there in a very long time; I wonder if I even know where it’ll end. Will there still be any down there or will I hit the last stop and fall off? A Voice answers my unspoken question with a question, “Are you willing to take the journey with Me and see what is down there?” To find the answer on this journey I now go.
1, 2, 3…9 steps down, so far so good. This isn’t so bad in fact it’s kind of easy. All the steps seem solid, nothing too worn, the handrail sturdy. It’s pretty light here, a few shadows in corners but nothing too bad. In fact I see beautiful things written on the walls, Scriptures, poems, and letters all bright and colorful. I like my descent thus far.
10, 11, 12…21 Whoa, someone turned off the light! I can’t see a thing, I grip onto the handrail confused; which way is up and which is down? This darkness is thick, tangible, like something alive. My brain begins to hear things, whispers, voices that speak terrible things. “You’re a failure, you’re bound to die, you can never escape who you were!” Terrified, I cover my ears and cower, but then the Voice reminds me, “You are mine, I have conquered for you, just keep walking.” A light surrounds me, peaceful and soothing chasing the darkness and voices away.  After a breath, I journey on.
22, 23, 24….35, I am getting so tired! How many more steps are there? I have already stopped twice for breaks and I can barely continue. Trying to get my mind off the stairs, I look around. These steps aren’t empty, laying on them are items discarded and worn by time and neglect. A toy gun from when I used to pretend to be Jesse James, old army camo pants that reminded me of summers playing war in the woods. I see them and remember all the memories coupled with all the older girls telling me that I shouldn’t do boy stuff that it was unnatural. Riiiip, the pants seam opened up and the gun fell down another stair. I get it now, this is where the toys and clothes of my childhood clashed with weird social and “religious” expectations creating an identity that was never supposed to be mine. Sad at the thought of how long I believed these untruths, I stop for a quick breath and continue on.
36, 37,38, the steps continued on and on, each new set showing me parts of me coupled with parts of society’s unrelenting constraints on me. This is heartbreaking, I don’t want to continue but I must. The gentle light ever around me, ever comforting and soothing. 48, 49, 50! My foot hits the bottom floor and the sound echoes. It’s silent here and apparently by the sound of the continuing reverberations it’s empty too. Angrily, I yell out to the Voice in the light, “I walked down all the stupid steps just to see it’s empty?! Why would you have me do this?!”
“I asked you to travel with Me so I could show you this!” Suddenly brilliant light floods the area and for a moment I’m blinded unable to see anything. I gasp and look around, shelves upon shelves line the walls. This isn’t any empty room at all, it’s choc full! Items fill the shelves, my camo pants neatly sewn, my toy gun dusted and put up. Item after item from childhood to adult, a Happy Birthday Barbie, a pair awful pink shades, my first BB gun, Rollerblades, it never ends. “Look at the walls,” says the Voice. They are filled with words, wonderful, beautiful, life-giving words about me. “This is what you needed to see. You wondered if there was anything down here; I am. You invited Me in and I took the very deepest part of you restored, redeemed, and renovated it. You are no longer who society, “religion,” or doctors say; you are mine and I say you are everything you were ever meant to be!”
So this is where my staircase ends, not in broken dreams or dashed hopes but in the Savior-King who redeems everything. My staircase no longer has broken, dark, or scary spots but it took a journey of faith; a step into the dark to fix it. There are no more shadowy voices or broken toys but this does require an upkeep. I walk the staircase regularly now to make sure no clutter invites itself back in. This is a walkway I keep clear because I desire clarity and a good connection with my Father. Everyone has a staircase, when is the last time you traveled yours?