Crossing the Bridge on Good Friday

I collapsed. Exhausted from the chase of everything that can’t satisfy. Blackness. Not even sleep could help me escape the misery of who I was. Each time I resolved to do better, I fell back again and again. Bleak hopelessness encompassed my world. I couldn’t go on.

Then, in the darkness I heard rustling. Voices of soldiers, vile and sick. Taunting a man. They mocked Him saying, “if you’re the king of the Jews then save yourself!” The sound of spikes through the bones of the humble one. The one whose only crime was truth. He cried out for His Father, and after agonizing hours I heard Him exhale, “It is finished.”

The ground before me quaked and in the midst of nothingness rose a wooden bridge. Colors of every kind weaved through the structure; Heavenly possibilities illumined the dread around me. Then a voice called, “You, come here. Come close and I will help you get out of this darkness.”

He stretched out His hand and every part of my being responded. His gentle, unassuming goodness propelled me forward. I had never known something like this before.

“I will give you a new life.” Stepping onto the bridge I asked,”But, what do I owe you?”  Jesus replied, “I took care of it.”  In that moment I realized, it was upon His very body I walked.

The bridge that lead me to new life — a life I didn’t deserve — was the Man on the cross. Finally, the chase is finished. The search is over.

Today is a good Friday.

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