The Dark at the Top of the Stairs ...

When my daughter was small, we read hundreds of books. We spent hours at local libraries, thrift stores and garage sales, amassing a huge collection of children's books. And we read them all. Still an avid book collector, my fourteen-year-old has more books in her room than clothes (although she has plenty of those as well.) Books are stacked in corners and on desks and the empty loft that she never slept on because there might be a spider on the ceiling. They are all arranged in a mysterious, elusive system that one dare not disturb--even slightly.

We have boxed away a few of our favorite children's books, and once in a while drag them down from the dusty heights of the wardrobe in our bedroom to reconnect with familiar characters like Frog and Toad, Mr. Putter and Tabby, Amelia Bedelia, Little Bear, Ferdinand, and Ping, the beautiful young duck who lived with his mother and father and two sisters and three brothers and eleven aunts and seven uncles and forty-two cousins on a boat with two wise eyes on the Yangtze River.

One of my favorite books is The Dark at the Top of the Stairs by Sam McBratney. It is a

Published by Candlewick Press in 1998;
www.candlewick.com

story of an old mouse who lives in a corner of the cellar with some young mice. It is just a simple picture book, but the story speaks to me as a parent. Here is an excerpt:

   "What should we do tomorrow?" he (the old mouse) said one bedtime, for the young mice were getting ready to sleep, and he wanted them to look forward to the morning.
   "I would like to see the dark at the top of the stairs," said a young mouse, whose name was Cobb.
   "Me too," said his sister Hazel, snuggling into the warmth. "I want to see the dark at the top of the stairs."
   "And so do I," said little Berry-Berry, the youngest of the three. "We've never been to the top of the big dark stairs where the monster lives."
   The old mouse thought for a while. It was true that he had not taken his young mice up the cellar stairs. Then he said, "What about a walk to the acorn tree in the garden? Or a visit to your cousins in the cornfield? We could even have a swing on the seedheads of the long grass."
   "No," said Cobb. "We want to see the dark at the top of the stairs."
   "Or we'll climb up there on our own," said Hazel.
   "And see the monster by ourselves!" cried little Berry-Berry.
   The old mouse nodded as he made his mice very comfortable in their beds. "Very well then, we will go there in the morning," he said.
   He spoke as if he knew that sooner or later all young mice will try to see the dark at the top of the stairs.

Of course, the "monster" at the top of the stairs breathes one "meow," and the mice come scurrying home to the cellar corner, their curiosity satisfied. As young people, who grew up to be parents of young people, we can all relate perfectly well to the temptation of the unknown, the forbidden, the dangerous. It seems to be a built-in part of human nature--at least in our younger years--to push boundaries and duck under safety nets. It can be thrilling to live on the edge of what our parents consider acceptable.

Photo by Jaynee Innerebner

But sometimes we have to get "burned" to really understand that fire is dangerous. The power of first-hand experience may not change our choices, but we know where those choices will lead us. Sometimes, God in his mercy allows us to experience pain to bring us to a place of surrender, so that "we will no longer be like children, forever changing our minds about what we believe because someone has told us something different or because someone has cleverly lied to us and made the lie sound like the truth." Ephesians 4:14

Youth is a perilous time. It is like standing on a precipice looking over the edge of a
consuming gulf called adulthood. It brings with it a roller coaster of emotions and contradictions--despair and delight, vanity and insecurity, passion and indifference, clinging and rejecting. Youth thinks little of counting costs. It flies boldly in the face of danger, because, after all, we're going to live forever, right?

A Tidal Wave of Grief
It was a bitterly cold, but sunny February day last week, when we attended the funeral of a 21-year-old young man. We arrived late at the small, standing-room only Catholic church, and waited in the unheated foyer, stamping our numb, cold feet. The service ended and a line of honorary casketbearers threaded out the doors to line either side of the outside sidewalk. I watched the men walk out the door single-file, all of them young (really still boys,) all of them friends or relatives of the deceased, some of them weeping opening, some ducking their heads to hide their red-rimmed eyes, others presenting the clenched-fist, stoic look of too many bottled-up emotions. They waited, shivering in their t-shirts and hoodies, for the casket to pass.

It was a sad day to lose another young person. Since we moved to the rez 14 years ago, I have kept a "memory box" on my dresser that is stuffed with funeral cards. Too many of them are memories of young people, lost to alcohol, drugs, suicide and related accidents. We have seen the entire community grieve these loses. It seems the grieving never really ends, but like the tide ebbs and flows.

Unfortunately, we have seen that the death of one friend rarely changes the future for the ones left behind. Grief is buried in more destructive behavior, and like circles rippling on a pond, the pain multiplies.

But there is one death that makes a difference. Jesus died to bring life to everyone. And the life he brings is a good one. He offers hope in hopeless situations, healing in the midst of pain, and rest from the many burdens of life.

"Don't you know that the Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth? He never grows faint or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to those who are tired and worn out; he offers strength to the weak. Even youths will become exhausted, and young men will give up. But those who wait on the Lord will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint." Psalm 40:28-31

So many young people slowly climb a stairway that leaves them trapped in their own personal darkness. They stumble; they fall; they lose all hope. But Jesus is able to illuminate every dark corner for those who chose life. "God is light; in him there is no darkness at all." I John 1:5

Photo by Jaynee Innerebner

Please join me today in praying for the young people on the Lac Courte Oreilles Ojibway Reservation. That "the people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine." Isaiah 9:2

Who Wants to Be a Pet Owl?

Photo by Tony Hisgett, Fotopedia; Eurasian Eagle Owl

I was born in the Appalachian mountains of eastern Kentucky where the mists linger for long hours in the mountain hollows and sunlight doesn't reach the bottoms until ten o'clock.  Or so I am told. I don't remember any of it. My family followed work to Indiana, and I grew up there.

But the small Indiana town where I grew up was a pocket of transplanted Kentuckians. The land was flat, but mountain culture flourished in the speech, the food (some restaurants have fried bologna sandwiches on the menu) and traditions. And, of course, the feuding.

My ancestors were Scott-Irish immigrants who settled in Eastern Kentucky's Breathitt County, at one time known as "Bloody Breathitt," because of the untamed wild-west-like history of bloodshed. During World War I, Breathitt county gained national prominence for filling its quota of men completely through volunteers. There was no need for a draft. Maybe these young men were just really patriotic. Or maybe children who grew up with blood stains on the schoolroom floor saw "war" as a way of life.

These were a clannish people, fiercely loyal and highly suspicious. They had names with prefixes like "Bad" and labeled their rifles "He Who Kills Many." They were gunned down by revenuers, buried under coal mine explosions, shot for budging in the commodity line, and survived prison escape attempts with bullets lodged in their brains until old age. They rarely cried, always prepared for the worst, and made the most of what they had.

Published by the University Press of
Kentucky; Kentuckypress.com

They were stubborn, tough as nails, and prideful. Those characteristics led to a great deal of small offenses that turned into all-out feuds. Those feuds simmered down in recent years, but old animosities die hard, and there are still sometimes clan-related scuffles down at the local bar on a Friday night.

The men of two large clans in my hometown still have a longstanding ritual when they meet at the tavern. One will ask the other: "Are you a pet owl or a watch-a-me-die?" There is only one acceptable response. As any proud highlander will tell you, it is much better to be a "watch-a-me-die," someone who never gives up, even to the point of death, than a "pet owl," a wild thing that has been tamed and caged.

The Persistant Life

Thinking about this, I was reminded of one man in the Bible who was a "watch-a-me-die." Paul willingly poured out his life as an offering to show the world faith at work. Though he was beaten, imprisoned, starved and shipwrecked, he took a bold stand to demonstrate the inestimable value of Jesus. He was not willing to die to revenge some generations old family offense. He was willing to die to bring glory to his Lord, the one who deserves all things. Because of his unshakable faith in the reality and goodness of God, he "set his face like flint" and withstood present-day trials.

"We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies." 
2 Corinthians 4: 8-10

Recently, news report say 80 people were publicly executed in North Korea. Some were charged with possessing western films (pornography) and prostitution. Others were killed for owning a Bible. They were taken in small groups to seven different cities, where residents were forced to watch the executions as a public statement of the government's total control over all aspects of life.  Those Christians who died publicly for their faith were "watch-a-me-dies" for Jesus. Their story was shared around the world.

This story is all too familiar around the world today.  Christians die every day because they refuse to deny faith in Jesus. A day may come when sharing the gospel will require us to make the same choice-- to be a pet owl, caged, wings clipped, on a tether; or ready to follow despite the consequences.

Paul encourages us: "Don't be intimidated in any way by your enemies. This will be a sign to them that they are going to be destroyed, but that you are going to be saved, even by God himself. For you have been given not only the privilege of trusting in Christ, but also the privilege of suffering for him. We are in this struggle together...." Phillipians 1:28-30