When I was growing up, we lived in a little house with a full basement. Mom made the basement cozy with a rug covering the concrete floor and a couch and chair that we could play on. My brothers and I played down there a lot, and that was where we kept most of our toys and the things we treasured.
We went up and down those wooden stairs many times, and after a while they began to look pretty scuffed and scruffy. Mom decided she was going to paint them. That was in the days before quick-drying paints came into use, and it would take a full day for the paint to dry.
A couple of hours before Mom began to paint, she told us to bring up anything from the basement that we would be wanting during that day. “Think hard,” she said, “and be sure to bring up everything you might want to play with.”
The three of us—I was 10, my little brother Robby was 6, and my big brother was older than I - all scrambled downstairs and gathered up our prized possessions. Then Mom painted the stairs.
It wasn’t long after she had finished that I remembered something else I needed. Yes, I really needed it! It was very important, and I needed it right now.
I went to the top of the stairs and studied them. My legs were long, and I was pretty good at going down four steps at a time. So I thought, If I hold onto the banister, I’ll only need to touch the very edge of three steps. That would leave only three tiny marks in the fresh paint. Mom likely won’t even notice, I told myself. So I went down as I had planned.
I looked back at the stairs. Not very obvious, I thought, quite pleased with myself.
I found my forgotten treasure and returned to go back up the stairs. Whoops! Coming down had been one thing; going up would be quite different. It’s difficult to jump up stairs. I looked around at the basement windows. They were much too small to crawl through. Why didn’t I think of this before? I scolded myself.
Now, with my treasure in my hands, it would be harder to balance on the edge of the steps. But I couldn’t stay in the basement all day. There was nothing to do but climb those freshly painted stairs.
By the time I reached the top, my shoes were sticky with paint and the marks of my climb were left very plainly behind me. I took off my shoes and ran to my bedroom where I buried myself in the bedcovers and waited. I was sad and sorry that I had messed up Mom’s paint job.
Tears were already trickling down my face when I heard my mother’s voice. “Robby! Why did you go down those stairs?” she asked my little brother angrily.
“I didn’t, Mom,” he answered. But since Robby always seemed to be getting into trouble, Mom didn’t believe him. And then I heard Robby crying as she began to punish him.
Oh no! I thought. I can’t let Robby take my punishment . . . that’s not fair! I ran out of my bedroom, crying, “He didn’t do it, Mom. I did! It’s all my fault.”
Have you ever had anyone take the punishment for things you did wrong? The very best Friend you could ever have has been punished so you could be free from the punishment for your sins. And what a terrible punishment He was willing to take for you! He was nailed to that awful cross on Calvary’s hill, and then, during those three hours of blackest darkness, He was forsaken of God, who laid on Him the punishment for all the sins of anyone who would accept Him as their Saviour.
Have you come to realize, Jesus didn’t sin; I did; I’m the one at fault, not Jesus; He didn’t do anything wrong? He loves you so much He is offering you freedom from the punishment for your sins. Will you accept His offer?
ML-05/06/2001