Sometimes I feel just like that one little white morning glory that struggled to bloom along the side of my walking trail. I feel like I’m all alone, and covered with briars of pain and the brush of heartache, and although I want to climb, they have me bound. Still I am trying to bloom just a little each day. I cry, “Oh to be free just like morning glories are supposed to be, so I could climb to the top and see the whole world!” Then I remember this story.
When our youngest son, Phillip, was about four years old, his daddy took him to a nearby playground, but instead of going for the swings or slide, he made a bee-line for the igloo shaped monkey bars. He busied himself for the next few minutes climbing around all the ladders that reached from the bottom to the top. But since there were lots of children playing there, it was difficult. So it took him several minutes of climbing this way and that before he reached the top. When he finally got there he poked his head through the opening, threw both hands up in the air and hollered, “Hallelujah!” Everyone nearby heard him and they turned to see what was going on.
Climbing is such great therapy. Why? Because the exercise helps keep us healthy, it gives one a feeling of achievement and victory, and it’s also great fun.
So, like little Phillip and the monkey bars, I want to climb to the top of my troubles by using the ladders of prayer, reading God’s Word, and singing and making melody in my heart. Then when I reach the top, I can raise my hands as high as they will go, and shout “Hallelujah!” And maybe others will notice and want to feel what I feel.
I want to be like Zacchaeus (See Luke 19). He climbed up into the sycamore tree and what did he see? He saw the Lord. Beloved, your are invited to join me. Come on and let’s climb! I want to see Jesus.