I don’t like wobbly bridges. The ones that swing are just the worst. I prefer solid ground underneath my feet. But when I look across to the other side of a bridge, the anticipation of something unknown pushes me out, step by step.
A bridge is a narrow place … most are anyway. It’s in that place of confinement that we find ourselves able to walk where there was no way before. So why is it so easy to feel insecure on a bridge, when its entire purpose is to provide a safe means of crossing over?
Even if the bridge doesn’t wobble, there’s still a sense of uncertainty about the whole thing. After all, it is joining two places that weren’t even connected before, and there’s so much emptiness underneath.
I think it’s the crossing over part that’s tough—the time in between leaving what’s familiar and reaching the new, when you’re neither here nor there. All sorts of emotions rise to the surface in the in-between, and most of them are related to fear.
You know what I think is worse than all the fears? Regret. The kind you feel later in life when you realize you should have been braver in a particular moment. That you should have found the courage to step across into something different.
I believe most of us are standing at some sort of bridge. It looks different for each one of us. What’s yours?
The opportunity to love your neighbor, even when it’s hard?
The moment to walk out a dream you’ve nurtured for years?
Or maybe it’s the yearning in your heart to surrender more fully to God?
“But I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river. But do not fear that, for I am the great Bridge Builder.”
I want to choose courage. And I want you to choose it too.
You won’t really know what’s on the other side until you cross over.