At the Foot of the Ladder

Why Desire Without Surrender Leaves the Soul Seated

“Do not be deceived: the demons do not fear those who only desire virtue.”

— St. John Climacus

The year turns, and with it comes the familiar invitation to begin again. The world calls this resolution: better habits, stronger bodies, clearer plans, measurable success. But the Church speaks a different language at the turning of time. She does not ask what you will improve, but whom you will serve. She does not ask what you will achieve, but what you are willing to lose.

In the icon of the Ladder of Divine Ascent, before a single step is taken, there is often a monk depicted seated at the foot of the ladder. He faces outward, not upward. His body is still. His hands are empty. He is not yet climbing. This is not hesitation born of fear alone; it is the last honest moment before self-deception becomes impossible.

The ladder is narrow. It does not widen as it rises. There is no alternate route and no gentler slope. Christ Himself has already named it: “Narrow is the gate and hard is the way that leads to life, and few there are who find it.” The monk knows this. He sees the angels assisting those who climb, and he sees the demons pulling others down. He sees that some fall not because they were attacked, but because they climbed while still clinging to themselves.

This is the question the icon presses into the soul at the year’s threshold: Do you actually intend to ascend, or do you merely admire the ladder?

St. John Climacus does not allow the reader to remain neutral. The ladder is not a metaphor for gradual self-improvement; it is an image of death by degrees. Each rung costs something real: reputation, comfort, control, cherished opinions, hidden sins, even spiritual consolations. To climb is to consent repeatedly to being stripped. To pause is dangerous. To look back is deadly.

St. Isaac the Syrian is even more uncompromising. He writes that the one who desires God but refuses humility is like a man who wants the harvest without the plowing. Repentance, for Isaac, is not regret or self-reproach; it is the radical reorientation of the heart toward God at the expense of every other attachment. Without this, prayer becomes noise, fasting becomes vanity, and religious life becomes theater.

Modern elders speak the same word in simpler language. St. Paisios warned that many want Christ without the Cross, salvation without struggle, and peace without repentance. Elder Aimilianos said that the spiritual life begins only when a person stops negotiating with God. As long as conditions remain, I will follow You if… , the monk remains seated at the bottom rung, mistaking thoughtfulness for obedience.

The monk in the icon has not yet fallen, but neither has he ascended. He represents the most dangerous spiritual state: knowing the truth, reverencing the path, and delaying surrender. This is why the demons wait nearby. Delay is their ally. Tomorrow is their most effective tool.

The turning of the year exposes this delay mercilessly. Time does not ask permission to move forward. Life will not pause while discernment becomes comfortable. The ladder stands whether one climbs or not. To remain seated is itself a decision, and it is not neutral.

The Fathers are clear: God supplies grace in abundance, but He does not climb the ladder in our place. Angels assist, but they do not coerce. Even Christ waits at the top, not because He is distant, but because love does not drag.

So the question at the end of this year is not whether you desire God. Many desire God. The question is whether you are willing to be changed by Him. Whether you are willing to repent without bargaining. Whether you are prepared to be misunderstood, humbled, and stripped of the false self you have carefully maintained, even religiously.

The monk at the foot of the ladder teaches us this: the most decisive moment of the spiritual life happens before the first step. Everything depends on whether the heart consents fully, without reserve, to the narrow way.

The year turns. The ladder remains. Angels wait. Demons watch. Christ stands above, arms open, wounds visible.

The only unresolved question is whether you will rise or remain seated, facing outward, contemplating what obedience might cost, while time quietly carries you past the foot of the ladder.