ZA MAGAZINE // seek truth.

The story.

In the analogy- and story-filled world of my head, there is a man. This man has a dreadful problem of tripping and falling wherever he goes. When he walks into a building to go to class, he often trips and falls while going up the stairs. Sometimes he’ll trip on the couch or table that is on the right of the hallway. Sometimes he’ll even trip on the vending machine, even though it is so big and off to the side.

I’ve often looked at him from a distance. I feel badly for him and his plight, but I don’t try to help him. It started out that this man was so oblivious that he didn’t even realize that he was tripping and falling everywhere! I had approached him during this time, and he rejected me with a smile. “Nah, it’s okay if I trip and fall!” As the semester progressed, I noticed a change. Where he would previously pick himself up as though nothing had happened, he would look around in embarrassment, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. Even though he became aware that he tripped and fell a lot, he always got angry when people offered to help him up. An issue of pride, I suppose - he realized that he had problems walking, but he wanted to fix it on his own. “Pride is hard to swallow,” I thought to myself.

One day, though, something changed again about this poor man with walking issues. I had just opened the door to the stairwell, and I was greeted with the sound of a loud crash. I galloped down some stairs and looked around the corner to see the man laying at the bottom of the stairwell. His books and papers were everywhere, and the people around him just passed by, attempting, with limited success, to hold back snickers of laughter. I expected him to merely pick himself up and gather his things, but he didn’t. I saw tears come to his eyes as a look of utter sadness welled up. “I don’t want to trip anymore!” he exclaimed with a desperate voice.

By now the stairwell had cleared out; it was just the man and myself. I knew that he was finally humbled. His posture was slumped as he struggled to hold back his tears in my sight. Feeling for the poor guy, I squatted down to his level and systematically began to gather up the textbooks and papers that had fallen. He looked to me and let out the softest, most reluctant, yet most sincere “Thank you” I had ever heard. I smiled softly and, after gathering his things, stood up and put out my hand. He looked up, and with a sense of wonder, grabbed my hand and let me heave him to his feet.

As I picked him up, we made eye contact, and I saw in the man a desire to change. I had compassion on him, which translated into a desire to help. Still looking him square in the eye, I said, “I can help you - you don’t have to fall ever again.” The man straightened up with a look of hope in his face and said, “Are you serious?” I nodded. “Just walk with me, and I’ll help you.”

The emotion of the moment, coupled with the prospect of never tripping and falling again, made him put on a huge smile and embrace me. “Thank you…” His voice trailed off. “Brendan,” I replied. “Brendan,” he said. “Thank you.”

The next day I walked to class with him. I showed him where the elevator was. “Sure, it’s a little embarrassing to say that you avoided the stairs because you trip on them once in a while, but the elevator lets you avoid the problem all together!” Then, I stayed between him and the couches and tables on the right side of the hallway, showing him that if he were to walk too close to them, he might not have problems sometimes but he was bound to trip again. The improvement of his walking and his mood was radical. We’d hang out outside of class and have good conversations too.

Though the story seems to climax quickly and lead to a happy ending, it was not to be, at least not yet. The story doesn’t end here in the first month, with the man and I walking close, free of trips and falls. See, a month later, he felt confident enough to go back to the stairs. I advised against it, but he insisted. “I’m stronger now…I’m going to do it!” Not one to make his choices for him, I let him go. Confidently, he charged up the stairs as I followed behind. And he made it! He turned around and smiled at me. “I did it,” he said. I nodded.

The next day was the same scenario, but this time he stumbled. He didn’t fall, but he lost his footing for a moment. His confidence was unshaken though, and he decided to take the stairs the third day. This time, it was the same man I remembered from a month ago. He tripped and fell. As he looked dejected, I suppose I could have been vindictive. “I told you so,” I could have so easily said. But I didn’t. I wordlessly came over to him and extended my hand. He grabbed it and lifted himself up.

“How about the elevator tomorrow?” I asked. “Sure,” came the reply. He had learned his lesson…for now.

And so began a period where he would feel good about not tripping and falling, which led to a time where he would walk where I knew he would eventually fall. But every time that he fell I extended my hand, because I had said I would help him. Sometime in his pride he would refuse me. I waited patiently, knowing that his desire to walk without falling would eventually lead him to taking my hand and hearing my counsel. As time progressed he did get better and better…The vending machine was never a problem again, and he could walk closer and closer to the couch. But those stairs…oh, those stairs. He could never get the hang of them. There was a way to avoid it in the elevator, but his desire to use the steps would lead to his falling so many times.

But every time that he fell, I extended my hand. And when he let me, I helped him up. And when he let me, I showed him and helped to keep him from falling.

The message.

This was the illustration of grace that came into my head while I was praying one morning. I noticed the chairs and the benches and the organ in the chapel I was in, and all of a sudden I saw them as stumbling blocks. Things that I could trip over. The Bible talks about sin as stumbling blocks, so the analogy grew from there. If I tripped over a bench, it would only make sense to either look out for the bench or to walk another way. But for some reason it isn’t that easy when it comes to sin. I know that when I go on the Internet I am tempted to lust. And yet I still miss it and fall down? If I saw someone (who became the balance-challenged man in the analogy) trip over a bench repeatedly, I’d say “What is wrong with you?!? Here’s the bench! Don’t trip over it! Walk over here or just know where it is and pay attention!”

Good thing that I’m not the Savior of the Universe, eh?

See, God is there to pick us up when we fall, but we have to let him help us. The man in the analogy and his progression reflects my own life at different times. When I was a little kid I didn’t know I was sinning when I did bad stuff, but I’m sure others saw it. Then, I began to know what right and wrong was, but I wanted to fix things on my own. This is the story of my secondary education. I made a promise, I got myself psyched up and said that I was going to use more willpower. I even asked God to help me, though it really was an afterthought. I knew that I could do it.

After many years of sinning and being sorry and trying to fix things, I thank God that he showed me how to fight sin: with humility. Only by humbling ourselves and realizing that we need a Savior can we say “Jesus, help me!” and let Him work in us. We can’t fight things with willpower; sometimes we can’t even fight things! The Bible says to flee temptation, and it also says to “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.” This means that very little willpower is involved.

If we seek God, then he’ll help us. I’ve done my best work fighting temptation when I wasn’t even fighting it. I was just seeking God and once I could feel his presence and be assured that His Holy Spirit was in me, with me, through me, it was like the temptation wasn’t even there. Even still, we are tempted, and when it hits we have to seek God to know what to do. More often than not, the answer is to flee.

But even if we do fall, we have a God who will pick us up, time and time again. I bet after awhile, the man felt badly that I kept on helping him. I sometimes feel badly when I have to come to God for forgiveness time and time again. But He is so gracious to His children that He will forgive us every time if we are humble and sincere in our regret.

The conclusion.

There’s more to this analogy, but don’t read into it too heavily, as it breaks down at some points. The point is that if we thought someone looked ridiculous because he kept tripping on a flight of stairs, how much more ridiculous do we look in the eyes of God when we fall for the same sin time and time again? It shames and humbles me, and makes me realize what grace really is. It is the idea of a God loving us unconditionally and giving us chance after chance, even though we are ridiculous and we really don’t deserve it.

Grace and peace,
Brendan