Complicated Hope

Yesterday was my 55th Birthday.

Six days ago, I completed a self-challenge while in England.

I climbed to the top of St. Paul’s cathedral. 528 steps from the cathedral floor – 365 feet.

Plus steps to and from the crypt at 111 total. Add 24 giant steps from the street to the front door.

By 11 am, we had climbed 589 stairs. We had descended 626 steps.

My knees were shaking. Breathing was a little hard – and I had a head cold from a hike earlier in the week in which we were caught in the pouring rain!

It was a hard climb. I was determined.

There is something powerful in doing what you doubt you can accomplish. And even more powerful in a Cathedral where you are surrounded by reminders that Jesus himself must have wondered if He could have accomplished the Father’s work. The windows, the art, they all tell the story of Christ’s life and suffering.

In the week leading up to this climb, I had been to the top of the Sir Walter Scott Monument in Edinburgh – 287 steps to the top of the 200 foot monument dedicated to the writer gave us the historic fiction genre. I had carried 40 pound suitcases up and down stairs of train stations. Logged 8-10 miles a day by foot.

But this was different. Steep steps. Steps of different heights and depths. Some stone. Some metal. Some ancient and worn by the feet of millions before you.

There are people behind you depending upon you to keep moving at a steady pace. The narrow stairway very quiet. Some climbers in obvious prayer as they traversed. Others oblivious to the history around them and merely amazed by the architecture.

With two stops along the way, you could rest and reflect. One inside with magnificent views of the art inside the cupola and another outside with glorious city scapes yet so very were windy.

I chose to make my climb a time to focus on Christ and His hand in my 55 years. The so very goodness of days and the very pain times as well. One word repeated itself: Grace.

At the top of the dome, a small holes allows you to peer down into the center of the nave. The center of worship. How small it all appears. The giant glorious cathedral reduced to a mere dot below. The effort was the glory. The worship we in the climb. The reward was in the view. The satisfaction in the effort.

As my husband and I sat in the cathedral after our descent, deep thankfulness filled my heart. Surrounded by beautiful art in which men I have tried to express their worship for their Savior, all I could say was “thank you Lord for your grace and mercy.”

At the time of construction, the very act of design and building was considered a sacrifice of worship to God. It must have seemed impossible at times. Lifetimes were spent in building. They did it not because was easy or because they knew they had the skills. They did it because He is Worthy of our effort and devotion.

Do hard things. Attempt that which you cannot do on your own. Do it to see how strong Christ is in you.

If he is strong in your mind and imagination and body, imagine how much stronger He is in your eternal Spirit and soul which He so intimately loves.