Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Bridge (07/31/08)
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TITLE: An Illusion of Control | Previous Challenge Entry
By David Johnston
08/07/08 -
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The bridge appeared to be made of strong beams of wood, pushing forward from my feet, and tall pillars sinking down into the murky depths, the achievements of men before me supporting my weight and journey. The statues lining the bridge hid the approaching clouds. As a weathered mother and child looked on, a sheet of rain started to fall, to tap imperceptibly against their stone faces, but pounding upon my head with a strength that made me bow under the false weight of progress: an umbrella controlled by nature, at the mercy of all the storms had to offer.
As I stepped forward along the bridge, over the water of life, the hint of a man beside me grew stronger, more than a passing glimpse; a flash of light as the thunder sounded high above, somewhere deep within the clouds. Life and death looked on, their fates entwined; one step, two, over a hole which I ignored as the rain began to slide down my face. Walking forward in my own strength, I imagined myself to be supported by the family of wood beneath me, religion in every statue, trusting in all the bridge had to offer, trusting that it would lead me to the paradise ahead.
For so many steps I relied on the bridge’s solid appearance, on the wood, the statues to guide me. Age caused my beard to replace the hair on my head; my eyesight caused the statues to merge into one. I began to advance nervously; each minute movement making the bridge appear to crumble. A sword thrust forward in front of me, the movement an illusion; the static presence of my guide, a mirage. I became aware that the bridge will disintegrate, that this bridge will crumble and fall. I don’t want to admit it but I can’t trust these rotting pieces of wood. I don’t want to confess but my legs will soon give away. I catch a glimpse of light by my side – the man’s smile. Turning, I look to him for help.
We take our first steps together along that crumbling bridge. The rainwater seems to be huddling on the rotting panels, scared to make the journey between the cracks and then down into the dark depths. Carefully placing my feet on each crossbeam I stride out in faith, his presence by my side, his smile guiding me despite my silent protests. The light grows before us as I advance through life and with every step, the bridge begins to fade. I admit that I did once turn to look back, expecting to see the solid statues. The sound of the downpour joined with the sound of the roaring river, seeming to pass through the bridge as though it wasn’t there. Turning back to Christ, the darkness seems to retreat and He smiles. Before me on the other side of the river, a forest of life opens up, each raindrop rainbowing on the green vegetation, and the bridge is no longer there. I’m falling or am I walking? I’m advancing or have I stalled? All I know is that his smile is all that remains as I step into paradise.
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