Tuesday, April 08, 2008


The Elevator

By Ramone - April 8, 2008

When I was little, my brother and I used to run down the stairs and try to beat the elevator to the bottom at my father's apartment building in Washington D.C. I think he lived on probably the 8th floor or somewhere up there, but because the elevators were slow you could actually make a good race of it and sometimes even beat the elevator. Especially if someone stopped it on the way down. Sometimes one of us would take the elevator, or my father would, and the other(s) would race down the stairs.

One day I beat the elevator to the bottom and waited for it to arrive. One of the other elevators opened, however, (there were three, I think?) and lady got out and came straight at me, pulled my arm and took me into the elevator. She accused me of pushing all the buttons, and made me ride in the elevator with her (and I think another lady or two) to every floor that had been pushed.

I probably tried to protest but gave up. I can't remember it clearly, but I was shocked and hurt by it, because I hadn't done anything. While in the elevator with them, I noticed that some floors lit up, and another one turned off. The elevator was broken, but they didn't notice it (come to think of it now, if the lights were still lighting up when they got down to the first floor, it should've been even more obvious that the elevator was broken). When we got to the bottom, my father & brother were waiting there, and I think the lady may have said something to my father, but I can't remember. We just continued on past that delay to wherever we were going.

Last night I suddenly remembered this as I was getting out of the bath, and still felt the pain of that accusation. So I prayed. In my soul I was still hurt and protesting; I wanted her to know it was not me! But she could not hear me then, and I could not change what had happened so many years ago. God was my only way out of this pain, this scar.

I had forgiven things like this before, but the "method" was not working, so I turned it over to Jesus, asking Him to heal me and carry me through this. I began to speak it out loud, choosing to forgive her in Jesus' name, and putting this under the cross -- where we are all forgiven, loved and healed. As I did this I re-visited my mind's picture of me in the elevator, and asked for Jesus to come into my memory. Then He was there, hugging me, standing between the angry woman and me! All I could feel was His comfort.

And I realized that He knows what it's like to be falsely accused. As I began to cry, I understood that He took her angry words spoken to me and the punishment she inflicted on my young heart. He took it all on the cross, and so much more. Thank You, Lord Jesus.

Thank you for this deeply personal and powerful story. Thank you for sharing.

I think people can relate really well to stories that happen to us, common stories, that don't have all the jargon and theology. They aren't as threatened. They open up and receive Christ when they can relate. I think this story does this. Thank you Ramone for honesty and openness.

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