I am quite certain the stairs of Catalyst appear in nightmares across the country once in awhile. They are daunting, massive, world-class stairs. I hate/love them. But this year I learned a lesson from them.
David and I usually sit down in the depths of the great, gray pit that is the Gwinnett Arena, and the stairs to get down and up are truly awe-inspiring. Last year, it became easier just to forget climbing up to find food or drinks. But this year, well David and I spent a good portion of our year getting ourselves into better shape, and those stairs were bugging me. I didn’t want to see them as an obstacle this year. I wanted to be one of the cool kids who can flit up and down without batting an eye or breathing deeply. i was partially successful. By the end of the second day I learned how to run up the stairs and use my momentum to get me all the way to the top. Going down, of course, is really not an issue. Since we’ve been doing something called “burst training,” the stairs became a kind of short burst of exercise, a way to clear the cobwebs from our overwhelmed brains. And I could feel that training in my legs the next day. I liked it.
Last Sunday, outside our City Place campus, I looked at their pitiful little flight of stairs and realized that the Catalyst stairs had changed my opinion of, well, staircases everywhere. I know I have creaky knees, and carry more pounds than I still want to. I know I’m not twenty anymore (oh Lord what a daydream). But I’ve learned that stairs are my friend.
It wasn’t until late last night that I thought about the stairs again, differently. You see, our family is going through some teenage growing pains, and frankly it is downright difficult most of the time. Emotionally, our family is huffing and puffing, trying to climb our way out of the big, gray pit we seem to have fallen into. It feels like this climb is going to last forever and be unsuccessful at that.
But God sees climbs a little differently. He sees them as training, as that perfecting of character which the Christian life thrives on. He sees his family huffing and puffing their way to a new level of fitness and understanding. The stairs really are my friend.
I’m not sure I’m there yet, able to see like God sees. I’m just seeing an endless flight of stupid, gray cement stairs that my family needs to get past. But I have faith that my burning quads and sort of sore calves are going to be worth it some day. And really, I don’t need to worry about the whole set of stairs anyway. I just need to worry about just one more.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
I like this.
Aaron say you might like to try the escalator; you take one step and it will carry you the rest of the way. Take those steps in faith and our prayer is that God will direct your path.