The Bridge
I was listening to one of my dearest friends (and the term "friend" really doesn't give full credence to the deep value of his role in my life) share about a bridge that he stood on in-between two old friends that had cleaning projects to tend to and old wounds to address. And as usually happens when I am blessed to share time with him, a flame was lit! It quietly flickered into this.
I realized the work I still have to do on forgiving a person, perhaps people, that I have felt hurt by... some more recent than others. I was inspired and convicted to go there and stand on that bridge... or one very similar to it anyway. The bridge I found myself approaching was blanketed in a thick fog that suffocated crisp from the air and replaced it with a density almost too heavy to breathe. It hid the other side of the bridge and made the surface slippery. It even changed the colors of the natural light into hues that were muted and blurred. Nonetheless, in order to get to the other side, wherever that might lead, I would need to cross it. As I stepped onto the creaky bridge, I looked over the edge into the seeming abyss. I heard water rushing rapidly below. It crossed my mind, for a second and a half, that perhaps I could just jump over the edge and then swim to the other side, circumventing the contact with whom the fog might be concealing. Even the potential of being cut up by the jagged rocks that were inevitably below would be less frightening than what (or whom) I could come heart-to-heart with, out in the middle of the now swaying bridge. The wind laughed at me and tried to convince me to retreat. I believed that the cables were pretending to hold the bridge in place and that if I kept going, they'd snap! Or worse yet, what if I got out to the middle of the bridge and no one showed up? And with that thought, the fog started to lift.
Maybe that's the point! No one else has to show up for my work in forgiveness to occur. So I took my eyes off the elements and that's when I saw Him. Calmly and assuredly, out in the middle of the bridge, on footing made of solid ground, He was waiting with an unlimited supply of Grace, Joy and Freedom.
I stood in the middle of the now stable bridge, listening to His heart on forgiveness. I bathed in the light of Grace that comes from remembering the depth of forgiveness that He has poured out on me countless times before. I began to feel the burden lighten. As my heart's thinking was transformed and my mind's eye was re-directed, Joy and Freedom took up residence. Admittedly, some of my work would take time but my God is a patient and loving God and His Care of me remains warm, understanding and gentle.
While I stood there in the Shadow of His Wings, I couldn't help but notice a faint figure or two, approaching from the other end of the bridge. They looked just as apprehensive as I had felt when I first started out. Could they be afraid of the same things that I had been? Could I be one of the inflictors of pain that they were afraid might not show up, or worse yet, would they just not want to encounter me at all? God put His Hand on my shoulder and He whispered, "Just be willing." And so we stood together and waited.
I realized the work I still have to do on forgiving a person, perhaps people, that I have felt hurt by... some more recent than others. I was inspired and convicted to go there and stand on that bridge... or one very similar to it anyway. The bridge I found myself approaching was blanketed in a thick fog that suffocated crisp from the air and replaced it with a density almost too heavy to breathe. It hid the other side of the bridge and made the surface slippery. It even changed the colors of the natural light into hues that were muted and blurred. Nonetheless, in order to get to the other side, wherever that might lead, I would need to cross it. As I stepped onto the creaky bridge, I looked over the edge into the seeming abyss. I heard water rushing rapidly below. It crossed my mind, for a second and a half, that perhaps I could just jump over the edge and then swim to the other side, circumventing the contact with whom the fog might be concealing. Even the potential of being cut up by the jagged rocks that were inevitably below would be less frightening than what (or whom) I could come heart-to-heart with, out in the middle of the now swaying bridge. The wind laughed at me and tried to convince me to retreat. I believed that the cables were pretending to hold the bridge in place and that if I kept going, they'd snap! Or worse yet, what if I got out to the middle of the bridge and no one showed up? And with that thought, the fog started to lift.
Maybe that's the point! No one else has to show up for my work in forgiveness to occur. So I took my eyes off the elements and that's when I saw Him. Calmly and assuredly, out in the middle of the bridge, on footing made of solid ground, He was waiting with an unlimited supply of Grace, Joy and Freedom.
I stood in the middle of the now stable bridge, listening to His heart on forgiveness. I bathed in the light of Grace that comes from remembering the depth of forgiveness that He has poured out on me countless times before. I began to feel the burden lighten. As my heart's thinking was transformed and my mind's eye was re-directed, Joy and Freedom took up residence. Admittedly, some of my work would take time but my God is a patient and loving God and His Care of me remains warm, understanding and gentle.
While I stood there in the Shadow of His Wings, I couldn't help but notice a faint figure or two, approaching from the other end of the bridge. They looked just as apprehensive as I had felt when I first started out. Could they be afraid of the same things that I had been? Could I be one of the inflictors of pain that they were afraid might not show up, or worse yet, would they just not want to encounter me at all? God put His Hand on my shoulder and He whispered, "Just be willing." And so we stood together and waited.
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