Rock Climbing To Heaven
by Amber Florenza (Wright)
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I gripped the Rock tighter, the life-ropes quite attached to me and the harness secure. But still…I was afraid. How long could the ropes hold me? Till I reached the summit of the great mountain that I was climbing? God had promised and so I would trust Him. He would hold the ropes till I scaled to the top.
I glanced down, fearfully, barely, but I shuddered. How far was the drop-off to the great Pit below me? What if I fell? I pushed the thought aside. I would trust God again. He had promised me He would bring me to the top of this mountain even if I began to slip. His ropes were attached to me. I wouldn’t go far. He would catch me.
I pushed my knees forward. I was crawling, scratching my knees, bloodying my knees, but I was crawling. Nothing seemed to hurt me worse than all in my entire life, but I was climbing higher and that was all that mattered. I was scaling the great mountain…one crawl at a time.
There it was…again. I heard His whisper, “Child, you’re one step closer. Keep moving. I’m here.”
I tried to crane my neck to see up far enough where He was at, but I couldn’t see a thing in my great dizziness. My Father was up there on the mountain, and I was below somewhere.
“Where are you at?” I tried to ask, but a stormy wind suddenly blew against me, pushing my words into the darkness below me. I thought He hadn’t heard. But I was mistaken. He listens to every word I think of.
I felt the rope pull upward, it was my Father carrying the load for the weakest. I tried to thank Him, but my voice was lost to the wind again. Somehow I couldn’t feel my voice just then. Words failed me. I was completely blank inside. Nothing seemed real to me…only that my Father was slowly pulling my rope up. I silently thanked Him. I silently asked Him where He was. I silently climbed up the mountain--with the help of my Father.
The stormy winds, as suddenly as they had come, died away to the faint whispering of a gentle breeze cooling me off. I didn’t realize that I was sweating. I didn’t realize my hands were dripping wet from the sweat of gripping the life-ropes that held me. I didn’t realize I had come this far.
When I looked up again I could see my Father. Unlike most, my Father was leaning over the mountain’s edge, squarely on bended knees Himself, eagerly watching me climb up. It looked as if He would fall off the rocky ledge, the way He bent over and pulled closely on my rope. But I knew with happiness and thankfulness that my Father would never fall. He was only holding me up.
My last foot was made with difficulty for I was nearly worn-through. I was so tired…so worn out…I felt I couldn’t make it.
But He could read my thoughts for He smiled down upon me, “My child, your strength was useless until you trusted Mine. You’ve made it. You’ve come home, My precious child. Welcome.”
His words stilled my beating heart, my passing fears. I was where I belonged…right in the reach of my Father.
I looked up at my Father with a tired face and tired eyes, “Father,” I made out weakly, “thank You.”
Then, He had pulled me up safely onto the summit of the great mountain and I collapsed into His Fatherly arms. I was home at last. He hadn’t given up on me. He hadn’t let me go. Now, He didn’t remind me that I had nearly fallen on the climb up, or the times I didn’t do exactly what He told me to do in the climb. He only gave me what I wanted…a place to call home, His heart, my home.
“You must be hungry, My child,” my Father said at last, “after the long climb you did.”
I nodded and He picked me up for I was still rather weak and very tired. I looked around me dreamily. Even the air felt different up here. It smelt clean, fresh, pure.
“Everything is so beautiful,” I murmured faintly.
My Father kissed the top of my head.
“The sun is shining, My dear,” He spoke gently as He explained. “You were born here, only you hadn’t a chance to remember it because you left when you were quite little. There’s quite a difference from here to the place you just came from. Everything is rotten down below. You mustn’t go there again.”
“I’m going to stay here forever,” I told my Father in a little whisper as He smiled at me again. “I want to.”
“Remember, My child,” my Father told me, “as long as you want a home you have one here forever. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t, Father. Thank You,” I promised, and I haven’t forgotten.
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