Lessons on crossing bridges the correct way
I wonder if I could just put it down to folks being in a hurry. It’s not my intent to malign anyone’s reputation here. Still, there seemed to be neither a surplus of intelligence nor the absence of poor judgment in either of the adversaries.
We had just eaten a delicious lunch in the little dining room on the upper floor of the old mill overlooking the scenic river. It was a working mill, so we took a few moments to study the huge waterwheel and the sluice through which the wide river was routed to provide the power to turn it.
In the late summer, one in which there has been a fair amount of rain, the valley through which the river runs could only be described as verdant, with huge oaks and maples towering over the banks. Wanting a photo of the place for our friends visiting from my hometown to remember it by, we decided to risk a little stroll across the wooden deck of the old steel truss bridge to acquire one.
The bridge was built in 1907 when all the traffic over it would have been horse-drawn wagons and buggies. The signs leading to it clearly designate it as a one-lane bridge, limiting the speed across it to five miles per hour. No one could claim they didn’t see the signs.
So, as we wandered across, hugging the edge of the deck to be sure no one would need to slow down to three miles per hour for us, we were surprised to hear, and then see, two cars whip up onto the bridge — one from each end. They obviously saw each other.
They weren’t going five miles per hour. With eyes on the car approaching from the other way, they both raced even faster to get to the center first, braking hard at the last possible moment. An abbreviated game of chicken, with both drivers — thankfully — giving in before any damage was done, either to them or to the watching pedestrians.
There they sat. We heard no yelling. I can’t say there were any rude gestures. From my perspective, each just sat, foot on brake pedal, waiting for the other driver to give up the right-of-way and back down the way they had come.
We laughed. Well? How could one not see the humor in the situation? The ages-old rite of claiming territory, of banging heads (visualize a couple of male bighorn sheep if you need a mental image), of being the king-of-the-mountain (yes, just as childish as that) was being played out in front of us.
Somehow, I’m not laughing now
Over time, I’ve considered the foolishness of the two drivers, and I’m convinced we’re seeing the same event playing out over and over in everyday life.
We call the situation an impasse. It means just what it sounds like. The negative prefix, “im”, linked to the positive word, “pass”. A place where no one can make any progress.
Each is blocking the other’s way. No one will move forward. No one.
Where two or three are gathered
I hear the words whispered. In my mind, I hear them.
It’s a phrase in common usage by those of us who follow Jesus. He said the words Himself, promising to be in our midst.
Perhaps, there’s more to it than that. There were two people on that bridge. It just didn’t seem a likely place for Him to make Himself known. Not likely at all.
Soon after that episode, our little group got back into our vehicle and made our way to another bridge. Our friends were at my mercy on that day, and I wanted them to look at bridges (have I told you how much I love the beautiful old structures?).
This bridge is another one-lane passage over the same river, but much longer and very different in design. Still, like its cousin we had left just moments before, it requires a certain amount of cooperation for folks to cross it.
As we stopped by the river’s banks to view the bridge and grab a quick photograph or two, I couldn’t help but remember an event that had transpired there only a few years ago.
There are signs as one approaches the bridge warning of the single lane and the need to approach with caution. There are also signs which indicate a weight limit. Ten tons, they say. If one is driving a car or pickup truck, there is no need to heed the signs.
On that occasion in 2018, two chartered tour buses, operated by drivers who certainly would have had to pass an advanced test to operate a commercial vehicle, crossed the bridge going the same direction.
A charter bus weighs between twenty and thirty tons. Two of them crossing, one right after the other, far exceeded the safe limitations of the bridge. The photos folks took of the illegal crossing showed the old suspension bridge, normally in a convex shape, bowing severely into a concave curve under the buses’ weight.
Damage was done. The bridge had to be repaired before even a compact car could cross it again.
But you might say, the drivers agreed on their actions, both going in the same direction and not impeding each other’s progress. And yet, an impasse again occurred. The bridge was shut down to make amends for their wrong actions.
The whispering in my head has gained in volume.
Whenever two or three are gathered…agreeing, it will be done.
Is that what the statement the Teacher made is intended to convey?
If we who follow him agree on something that is clearly wrong, is He then obligated to honor our desires?
Somehow, I think we’ve still got this wrong
Even though there were also two drivers on this second bridge, I am unsure that the One we follow will show Himself here either.
Again, I tell you the truth, if two of you on earth agree about whatever you ask, my Father in heaven will do it for you. For where two or three are assembled in my name, I am there among them.
(Matthew 18:19–20, NET)
There is another bridge
It’s an ancient bridge, built from wood and nails — and grace.
I wonder. Do I, who have crossed over that bridge by the Builder’s own invitation, dare to create an impasse, turning back others for whom He died?
Do I claim, while gathered in His name with others, the right to ask for things — things we lust after — selfish requests — that He never promised to us?
Do I treat that ancient bridge as my possession — a thing to be used and held, but not to be shared freely with all who are drawn to it?
How many?
How many have I driven away with my ugliness, my greed, my pride?
When will we — all of us who have already crossed that bridge — acknowledge the debt we have to the Builder, a debt He calls us to fulfill by going into the highways and byways to take away the arguments the folks wandering and struggling there have?
Imagine.
Imagine what could happen if we do that together
If two or three of us, gathered in His name, agree that the bridge is His and not ours—If we agree together that we will no longer create impasses, and no longer will claim the exclusive use for our self-centered purposes, do you suppose we can trust Him to show up?
I’d like to give that a try.
I wonder if there are one or two more who will join me?
He’ll be there. With us. He will.
You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold guiltless anyone who takes his name in vain.
(Exodus 20:7, NET)
Unity without verity is no better than conspiracy.
(John Trapp ~ English educator/pastor/writer ~ 1601–1669)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2021. All Rights Reserved.
