Once upon a time, in a land not very far away, an old bridge in the middle of nowhere was languishing under the weight of the world. It was uniquely shaped, just like other bridges, and its stones-and-rocks appearance was uniquely designed—each one precisely and perfectly fitting together. On the outside, the bridge was beautiful and had thousands upon thousands of friends who smiled as they went by. On the inside, though, the bridge had become tired, and beat up, and found it increasingly hard to greet each new day cheerfully.
Plain and simple, on the outside, all looked well. On the inside, the bridge was broken, and felt small and forgotten out here in the middle of nowhere. Surely, it thought, only the bigger bridges in the bigger towns and cities were noticed and cared for. So, for many years, it tried patching things up here, and trying to smooth things over there, and applying new coats of pavement to try to cover what was really wrong underneath its skin. That would always work for awhile, but soon, the little bridge would again feel tired, beat up, and broken. And the weight of carrying the cares of the world, day after day, night after night, winter, spring, summer and fall, became heavier than ever. Would anyone notice out here in the middle of nowhere? Would anyone care?
Then one very cold day while crying out for help, there was a voice unlike any the little bridge had heard before. Even in the winter chill, it was warm and powerful and wonderful: “I have come to bring you back to life!” But because it was so burdened and hardened, even cynical, from years of frustration, the old bridge wondered, “Is this really true, or is this just another self-improvement idea that goes nowhere?” But the voice, unlike any the bridge had heard before, continued...
“Where I’m from, all things are possible!”
With its back up against the river banking and nowhere else to turn, the little bridge surprised itself by saying, “OK, I give up!—and I believe you can do just what you say.”
And so it began. Immediately, some obvious surface things in the bridge’s old life changed right away. The sky never looked bluer and the air never felt more refreshing. People could tell that something wonderful was happening. But for the most part, the voice worked day after day after day on the heart of the old bridge’s infrastructure—the places most people could not see but where it was most broken. No more patching things up. Lovingly, patiently, and with great artistry, the voice brought new strength, new life, and new hope to the little bridge. Its effects were being felt all around.
Still, it seemed to take forever, and some days and weeks felt like two steps forward and one step back. But then there came that glorious time not many days ago when the old bridge looked at it itself and noticed it was still uniquely shaped with its beautiful and uniquely designed stones-and-rocks appearance, but everything felt, well, different—especially on the inside where no one could see. The little bridge was beside itself in wonder and joy and hope, even though it knew that along with days of warm sunshine ahead there would always be those days and years of storms and fog and burdens. Even so, everything had been fixed up, like never before!
Or so it thought. Until that same warm and wonderful and powerful voice came by to admire his makeover and to make one more makeover to the little bridge’s thinking: “Fix? Not at all. Look at yourself. See? I make all things new!” And best of all, the voice promised to always be ready to help in the days and years ahead, whenever it was needed...
“We are all trophies of God's grace, some more dramatically than others; Jesus came for the sick and not the well, for the sinner and not the righteous. He came to redeem and transform, to make all things new. May you go forth more committed than ever to nourish the souls who you touch, those tender lives who have sustained the enormous assaults of the universe.”—Philip Yancey
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