The Peak of Inspiration

And I sought for a man among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap…  Ezekiel 22:30

How many times in the last forty years have I came to a split in the road?  I don’t mean a place where one road became two, and I was forced to choose between going right or going left.  There have been times like that, too.  But a place where the road I was on stopped, and I could see that road continuing in the distance, but between me and further progress was a gulf, a canyon that I could not cross. 

When I was young, still in school, dad recognized a passion in me to build instead of to plow.  I can’t remember ever verbalizing this interest.  It could be that I did.   I did not have the resources to continue on that path, and my travels on that road would have stopped if it hadn’t been for a bridge.  Dad took an interest, bought a few tools, built a workbench and helped me cross the first obstacle in my way. 

I’m sure that wasn’t the first, and it most definitely wasn’t the last time that dad was my bridge.  He made the call that landed me my first real job.  Took me vehicle shopping to OKC, quietly supporting me as I crossed that intimidating gully.  Got up early one morning to talk a little about my wish to get married.  Said “we think a lot of her and we support you”.  Made a hundred calls before finding a place where we could live.  Helped me get the house ready, bought us an air conditioner when he learned we weren’t sleeping well in that old house. 

I became discontent.  Wanted to live somewhere else.  I gathered up all my reasons and showed my parents the pile.  And even though he shouldn’t have, he did.  He supported our decision to move.  Did everything he could to make it easier.  And it didn’t stop after we unpacked in Colorado. 

Things didn’t go like I had dreamed they would.  We struggled to make things work.  At times the path ahead lead to the edge of a cliff.  Credit cards and unpaid bills and discouragement.  But dad had a finger on our pulse.  Numerous times I walked to the mailbox and found an envelope from dad.  I didn’t need to open it to know what it held, and sometimes I didn’t want to.  But dad was just being a bridge, quietly helping me cross the rapids in front of me, helping me reach that road on the other side. 

If it were not for that bridge, where in the world would I be?  What would I have done at each of those obstacles?  I would have needed to turn and follow the canyon, hoping for a place I could cross.  Maybe I would have attempted to cross without the bridge, fall down the canyon and crawl up the other side.  And while I may have survived, I am absolutely certain that I would not be where I am today.

There is more than one way to get across these roadblocks.   We can fly, being carried with very little effort on our part.  Just step in, wait for the airplane to do its thing, and step out on the other side.  Airplanes spoil us.  That’s not what we need.   

But I believe fathers should be a bridge.  Bridges are quiet.  The support us from underneath.  And while they provide a way forward, we still must cross on our own feet.  They allow us to feel their strength.  Strength that comes from experience.  We can take our time, cross at our own pace. 

And it takes a little faith to cross a bridge, to trust that it will do what we need it to do.   For me, that wasn’t difficult.   When you’ve used a bridge a thousand times, and a thousand times it has proven trustworthy, and never swayed or trembled, you will know what I mean. 

Fathers, if there is only one thing you can do for your children, support them.  Love them by being their bridge.   You can be there with them in the good times.  That is a real blessing.  But perhaps your real purpose is to use your strength to stand in the gap when the road stops.  To help them cross to a place that is safe, where they can continue on the road.  That’s the beauty of a bridge.  Be one for someone.