Ascending and Descending

In my last post, you had the chance to journey through different steps of thought in the Visio Divina practice. To fully enjoy this current post, you might want to revisit The Downward Spiral and take note of the story of the original staircase at the Loretto Chapel. Please also note that these days the sharing option on my blog is not working correctly. A friend is working on that, and my website will soon be upgraded. If you want to share, please copy and paste the URL. I’m most grateful!

When I view artwork, I always wish I could hear the artist tell me what was going through their mind as they painted. I want to hear their story, not just know what the picture subjectively means to me. I hope you don’t mind hearing more of my story here as I walk you through this painting process.

One step at a time…this idea represents my life and healing journey in many ways. Able-bodied people don’t think about stairways much at all. I watch my teenage kids take the stairs athletically, two or three steps at a time, as they bound up to their bedrooms. My story is different. Maybe since I’ve lived in a disabled body for over 30 years now, we could say that I have the privilege of thinking about steps…often. In fact, they stop me every time I come to them. I’ve written about this in other blog posts, so I won’t go into it much here. Let’s just say, a healthier attitude than anger toward inanimate stair steps (ascending or descending) or my body for having trouble with steps (ascending or descending) just might be meditating on life, one step at a time.

I need to think about how I think about steps.

It all starts with a sketch. This one took some time, as I wanted to catch geometrical perfection as close as I could. What beauty there is in a spiral! The symbolism of spirals quickly started activating my mind. So often we view our spiritual lives as a direct ascent, up a ladder toward God’s presence, or we picture the spiritual high or a mountain top experience after a long climb. But real life isn’t so neat and clean with every Christian becoming better, life becoming more joyful, and us all always growing closer to God.

In opposition to this linear spiritual formation model that insinuates a direct progression toward God and perfection, different authors have presented alternate ideas—ideas that made a lot of sense to me. Our spirits are continually being formed, deformed, and reformed. I picture a lump of clay being rolled into a perfect sphere. Something happens, and the ball gets dented or crushed. Then, the Potter rolls it back into shape. Once again, something happens, and the clay is deformed, only to be reformed again. What if this continual process represents our spiritual life? If that is the case, we don’t have to feel like failures for not continually getting better or becoming perfect.

Cindy Lee, an Asian theologian, expresses her frustration with the linear model of spiritual formation in her book, Our Unforming. She advocates a cyclical view, which realistically represents returning again and again to God after our spirituality has become unformed by circumstances and experiences.[i] Through our faithful and repeated returns, the space of our souls expands.[ii] We enlarge the circle of our spiritual capacity. I like this idea. I’ve certainly felt my capacity for God and life expanded by the challenges I’ve faced.

But what happens if we think of our spiritual lives as ascending and descending around a spiral? Somehow, this thought comforts me. My spiritual life and journey toward wholeness in Jesus have not been a steady line upward. The idea of cyclical spirituality, while very insightful, doesn’t completely capture my spiritual imagination. I need a view of spiritual life that contains a way to think about trauma and tragedy—when chaos hits and life spins downward out of control. My Western mind needs a way to picture growing closer to God. My spiral stairway contains within it a sense of purposeful direction, while also allowing an “up and down-ness” that represents real life. No matter how many times we go down into the pit, we know in what direction in which our next step needs to be taken.

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[i] Cindy Lee, Our Unforming, 23.

[ii] Ibid, 27.

What can the other elements of this painting represent? One friend pointed out to me that these rails remind him of “guardians.” As we go up and down this spiral, we are blessed when there are friends to our left and right, by our sides, protecting us from falling off. Note that they are with us as we ascend. But good friends are also with us, guarding and holding us when we feel ourselves going down. Even when we go down deep.

This inner rail, steep and tight, represents to me the speedy spiral of our emotions when tragedy (or lots of life) hits—The downward spiral of depression or despair. Many of us have felt this. It feels out of control and frightening. With artistic license, I decided that my stairway needed way more than the two full 360-degree revolutions in the Loretto Chapel stairs. This stairway goes deep.

“The entire weight of the staircase rests on the bottom stair.”

No matter how far down we go, we know the way up. In my mind, this first step is marked by the presence of tears. It is okay to cry. In fact, this is where we start. Blinded by our tears, we grab the railing and lift our weary foot up. We take the first step.

As we continue upward, we find guidance and help. There are resources that enable us to live one more day. Painting does this for me. There are many ways to soothe our weary souls and continue forward: reading books, meditating on Scripture, processing with friends, a warm cup of tea while gazing out the window or talking to counselors or spiritual directors. Those guardians are there…we need to reach out to take advantage of these external resources.

As I’ve become more skilled in the management of my pain and in understanding my physical needs, I’ve learned about internal resources—real life physical practices that calm my autonomic nervous system. The downward spiral, the dreaded fear-pain cycle, is no longer out of control in my life. When pain comes in and I feel myself starting downward, God gently reminds me that I know what to do now. I need to take those steps to contain and reduce my pain. It works! And I can keep going. I’m empowered and able to resume my ascent due to the physical and spiritual resources I have on board.

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“Our Story.” https://www.lorettochapel.com/our-story.

If you watch me climb stairs, you will see that I still go slowly. What if each step represents a season in life? What if God’s way is slow growth, a slow spirituality? I’m okay with that. Are you? You see, as I continue forward, my pain (tears) transforms into my passion (fire). I’m passionate to tell people about steps!  I’m passionate about helping people take one step at a time.

Honestly, it can be daunting when we look up and see just how high the stairway goes. Then it slowly dawns on us that we will never get all the way to the top. As we keep practicing, joy becomes the journey. I can imagine the Loretto Sisters feeling the extra spring in their steps as they headed to the choir loft. Each of those wooden steps represented a miracle…and each step we take toward God is a gift of tremendous grace.

As you look at my finished project, I wonder what are other elements of symbolism in this image that you see? What do these stair steps represent in your life? How does it feel to view spiritual formation as a spiral rather than a straight line up toward God?

References:

Lee, Cindy. 2022. Our Unforming: De-Westernizing Spiritual Formation. Fortress.