Traversing the Suspension Bridge into Eternity | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Traversing the Suspension Bridge into Eternity | Previous Challenge Entry
By Daniel Speight
08/01/08
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Philosophers and artists of the ages have stretched themselves, pondering how to build the bridge into eternity. They roam in self-adorned splendor, the kind of old wives’ fables. They work hard to cross the chasm, the breach found deep within. The ground seems to give way when they consider crossing. They’re in need of a bridge across the great divide. This is the story of two, wrapped in God’s precise destiny.

The common philosopher filled with unbelief, thinking his self uncommon, ponders lofty ideals and empty riddles. He becomes helpless under the weight of his own mind’s weak imagination of a potential salvation, found in himself. He covers his own self in the garment called self-righteous decrees, and weaves misconstrued scrutiny for others to hide within. He titles himself, “wise”, and wonders at reality’s existence. He clothes himself in a drab outfit called, “intelligent lies”, and spends his short few days pondering his heart’s abyss.

For him, his only hope is to crumble beneath the weight found in the simplicity of trusting in the Cross of Calvary. He seemingly aches at his own mind’s entrenchment, as he wonders, “Where is the bridge to eternity?” His longing for more grips him. His throbbing pain becomes more and more persistent. The outstretched crossing he finds in a message preached, called ‘Gospel Simplicity’.

The artist, she searches for new hues with no avail in sight. She cowers in the sight of canvas after staring into the masterpiece called Creation. Sunsets send her face pale. Singing trees cause her to whimper. Ocean depths inspire wonder about her terrible sin. And in the sight of the Grand Canyon, she sees her need for the Bridge for her own soul. She cries out in despair, in agony, “There’s something resplendent, transcendent in beauty, yet what are all my man made colors compared?”

The answer to her question pierces her core, cutting her asunder. Violently shaking is the ground beneath her. Finding her self looking for the bridge of the soul is a sight for the Savior’s eyes to behold. Passionate eyes of fire illuminate the darkness of her heart. The flame of encounter draws her to her knees. She looks up, to find the bridge: the fire found within the lovesick heart of her Bridegroom King.

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