The Bridge

There was once a bridge which spanned a large river. During most of
the day the bridge sat with its length running up and down the river
paralleled with the banks, allowing ships to pass thru freely on both
sides of the bridge. But at certain times each day, a train would come along
and the bridge would be turned sideways across the river, allowing a train
to cross it.

A switchman sat in a small shack on one side of the river where he
operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place as the
train crossed. One evening as the switchman was waiting for the last train of
the day to come, he looked off into the distance thru the dimming twilight
and caught sight of the trainlights. He stepped to the control and waited
until the train was within a prescribed distance when he was to turn the
bridge.

He turned the bridge into position, but, to his horror, he found the
locking control did not work. If the bridge was not securely in position it
would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came onto it, causing
the train to jump the track and go crashing into the river. This would be a
passenger train with many people aboard.

He left the bridge turned across the river, and hurried across the
bridge to the other side of the river where there was a lever switch he
could hold to operate the lock manually. He would have to hold the lever
back firmly as the train crossed. He could hear the rumble of the train
now, and he took hold of the lever and leaned backward to apply his weight to
it, locking the bridge. He kept applying the pressure to keep the mechanism
locked. Many lives depended on this man's strength.

Then, coming across the bridge from the direction of his control
shack, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold. "Daddy, where are
you?" His four-year-old son was crossing the bridge to look for him. His
first impulse was to cry out to the child, "Run! Run!" But the train was
too close; the tiny legs would never make it across the bridge in time. The
man almost left his lever to run and snatch up his son and carry him to
safety. But he realized that he could not get back to the lever. Either the
people on the train or his little son must die.

He took a moment to make his decision. The train sped safely and
swiftly on its way, and no one aboard was even aware of the tiny broken
body thrown mercilessly into the river by the on-rushing train. Nor were they
aware of the pitiful figure of the sobbing man, still clinging tightly
to the locking lever long after the train had passed. They did not see him
walking home more slowly than he had ever walked: to tell his wife how
their son had brutally died.

Now if you comprehend the emotions which went thru this man's heart,
you can begin to understand the feelings of our Father in Heaven when He
sacrificed His Son to bridge the gap between us and eternal life. Can
there be any wonder that He caused the earth to tremble and the skies to
darken when His Son died? How does He feel when we speed along thru life
without giving a single thought to what was done for us thru Jesus Christ?

When was the last time you thanked Him for the sacrifice of His Son?