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I see a bridge to your master’s house. I stand at the edge of the crevasse as close as I dare, peering across at the craggy canyon walls that uphold his kingdom.
You say his name is Light, and he rules from yonder side of the great divide. You say he took dust from the earth and breathed his ruach, his breath of life, into me. You say he knew me before I was born, and that he waits longingly for me to come to know him in his fullness.
I see the trees, the mountains that bask in his brightness, stretch their arms out. “Come,” they cry, “come to the master.”
I cover my ears in sorrow. It is too much, too much to give up I tell you. Behind me I feel them: my house, my mother, my brothers. Their eyes bore into my soul: watching, waiting to see if I will take the first step out of darkness.
You say this bridge only carries a man one way; that once I reach the other side there can be no turning back.
Tell me again what makes this bridge so strong.
It began without sin in any of its parts. It bears the marks of royalty. It took the sin of every person who was and who is yet to come on its firm foundation; its path to life conquered sin’s power over death. The master's own son is the cornerstone of every man’s journey across - he will not let you plunge to your death, rather he will uphold your walk into life.
It looks secure. I look down and quake at the freefall my body will take, should the bridge not hold me. You say every man, like me, has the choice to step on it and walk across to the everlasting Light.
My eyelids wash over my eyeballs, and my Adam’s apple moves silently within. My sin weighs me down. I cannot carry this anymore, yet it is chained to me. I drag it with every footstep in my mind, in my heart, in my soul. I scream at night in fear of what may happen should it overtake me until I can scream no more, only sob in desperation...
You offer words of hope. You say Light cannot dwell in darkness, and so I must walk in faith onto the bridge to the Light, to the One who promises to cut off these heavy chains.
My sins are my fetters, but they are familiar. Will there be any of me left once they disappear? If I walk away from my family and all I hold dear, how can I trust Light to keep his promise of never leaving me? A contract you say, signed with Light’s life?
If I go, I will be a slave. I will have an awl hammered through my ear, and I must serve the master forever. I’ve had slaves. I’ve seen how they are treated. You say I will be fed the words of life; I will drink from streams of living water. That does not sound like a slave’s life.
A breeze floats past my ear, causing the blades of grass at my feet to tickle me forward.
Do not put off the day.
I look back, I look forward, forward, back … desperation lifts my foot … hesitatingly, I place it onto the firm foundation ahead. My other foot follows. Incredibly, links of my bonds begin to pop open and crash to the ground. Each footstep sheds more weight, and I begin to run. I feel so light, so free. Cords of love from Light himself reach out to me and wrap softly around me. They pull me on and on until I reach his arms and fall, sobbing in gratitude, into his presence.
I hear a cracking noise behind me. Pieces of bridge shatter, each one holding a memoir of my fetters. From each side of the gorge, every part of my old life is shaken away. Their dead weight whistles down to the tiny, winding, river thousands of feet below.
I hear a creaking and surge of power. Cautiously, I look over the shoulder of love to see the bridge fully formed once more.
That’s for the next one.
I rest my head against his chest again.
His words are true. In his presence is fullness of joy.
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