Pilgrim's Progress part 2

(Please read part one first)

The first steps

Having decided to start my journey up the steps, I went through the gate, got to my knees, and mounted the first step.  It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that difficult, either.  I don't remember thinking that much about it other than how great a blessing it was to (maybe, possibly) walk the same steps that Jesus walked on that day that he fought for my life.  I was fascinated by the wood and the marble.  I touched the marble slits that can be seen inside the wood. The marble was cool and smooth, and it made me think of opulence and wealth.  On many of the steps, you can see little medallions that are said to mark where there are actual bloodstains of the Lord.  As I said earlier, I'm by no means sure that this was the actual staircase, nor am I sure that these bloodstains are real or are the Lord's.  What I am sure of is the reality of the devotion of these pilgrims.  It was possible that Our Lord walked up these steps.  It is a certainty that hundreds of thousands of priests, nuns, Popes, saints, and worshipers like myself did.  And that was enough for me--during those first few steps.  

As I went on, however, I began to question myself.  There were perfectly usable steps to the side of the Scala santa.  Why shouldn't I just go back down and use those?  I didn't consider it seriously, though, because I looked up.  At the end of the steps, there was a painting of the crucifixion.  It was nothing when compared to many of the majestic pieces by Caravaggio, Da Vinci, Giotto, and other artists that I'd seen in Rome.  But today, it was an elegant reminder of what was to follow for Christ after he left these steps.  He had done this for me--did I have the strength to do this for him?  And so I continued on.

Midway
About half way up the steps, I really started to hurt.  My knees were sore, I did not feel blessed, by arms seemed to echo the ache in my knees, and I thought seriously about stopping the journey.  But then I realized the truth of my situation.  You may not ascend the stairs on anything other than your knees.  That said, the corollary is obvious:  neither may you descend on anything other than your knees.   In religious parlance--I was stuck.  I had no choice.  So up I went.

And as I went, I began to feel differently about this pilgrimage.  Before, it was something to do--a devotion to God.  But now, I remembered that woman at the gate.  I began to understand her feeling.  This was worth it.  All the pain, all the tears--this was something that (in an infinitesimal way, yes) was helping me understand what it might have felt like for him.  Not the actual walk up the steps.  For once, this was probably harder on me than it was on him.  But this was such a small part of the journey.  Up the steps, down the steps, bullied to another palace, back up the steps, back down the steps, and then sent on that long road to Calvary--being beaten and taunted the whole way.

As I continued on, I wondered, 'Did he react this way, too?'  For I felt myself telescoping.  Before, I had been observing other things--the other pilgrims, the paintings, the stairs themselves--but now none of that mattered.  I felt drawn inward, beyond the pain, to a place inside myself that I barely knew existed.  And that place was at peace with this.  I had been in prayer throughout, but obviously my prayer had not taken my total focus.  Now it did.

Perhaps if I were to do this today, I would be praying the Lord's prayer.  Maybe I would have a prayer book for just such an occasion.  But remember, this was a new discovery for me.  I had not realized that I would be doing this.  I had not prepared.  And so the prayer that came was that which, for me, was best and most sincere--simply speaking to God and listening to his answer.  Again, the focus wasn't on the steps--it was on the journey.  I was freshly amazed at the amount of pain and suffering that Jesus willingly went through--for me!  How unworthy!  How uncaring I had been of his sacrifice--up till that very moment.  But now I was different.  I would not take this sacrifice cavalierly ever again.

The final steps
As I continued up the steps, my mind became aware of music.  I don't remember hearing it before I was about 5 steps from the top.  Gregorian chant.  In my frame of mind, I thought 'This is what Heaven is like.'  But then I immediately decided not, since it was very obviously a recording.  Surely Heaven would have real singers!  There was a sense of lightness about me now.  I knew that it was almost over, and I was so excited to be nearly done!  My fatigue and pain didn't magically evaporate, but it did become easier to navigate the steps.

And then I was at the top.  I used the railing to bring myself to my feet, and I looked down on the steps I had trod.  This was my journey, my pilgrimage.  There was another room inside, and I know I looked at it, but it wasn't important.  The important thing was that this was one journey, one pilgrimage, that I had made for my Lord.  It wasn't something I had asked for, and it wasn't something that he had requested I do.  It was a gift, freely given.  And I'm so thankful that I gave it.  After that experience, I understand a little better the joy that Jesus must have felt even in the midst of his pain.  Yes, he was suffering unimaginable agony.  But he was doing it for His Bride, the Church.  And that made it all worth while.

So today, January 6, the Epiphany, I challenge you to "go home another way".  Go out of your comfort zone.  Find something that you have thought of doing but never dared and do it--for him.  While you work, remember that the gift isn't the result of your labors.  The gift that you thought you were giving to God will come back one hundredfold to you.  God is sneaky that way--he loves to reward you when all you're trying to do is make him happy.