Chaplain’s Corner

The Bridge

It was a crisp morning in early spring. The sun, still low in the sky, cast a soft gold hue across the sleepy countryside. The drawbridge stood silent over the river like a sentinel, its iron arm ready to lift at the command of the man who operated it—a single father named Gregor.

 

His young son, Pavel, clutched his lunch pail as they walked along the gravel path toward the station house beside the bridge. Pavel was just eight — bright-eyed, curious, with a mop of sandy hair and an infectious laugh that still held the music of innocence. The bond between them was strong, forged in the quiet rhythms of routine.

 

At the bridge, Gregor entered the control room. The steel lever loomed in the center of the panel—the mechanism that raised and lowered the drawbridge. He told Pavel to go play, reminding him—as always—to stay safe and stay visible.

 

Soon, a deep horn bellowed from downriver. A cargo ship, far ahead of schedule, was making its approach. Gregor radioed the tower to confirm and discovered, yes, it needed passage immediately. With practiced ease, he pulled the lever, and the drawbridge began to rise.

 

From his perch on the hillside however, Pavel noticed something strange… the train. It was approaching. But it wasn’t due yet! The train—filled with hundreds of unsuspecting passengers, was barrelling down the track, oblivious to the fact that the bridge was wide open and if it didn’t stop, it would plummet into the river.

 

Pavel jumped to his feet, waving his arms. "Papa!" he screamed. But no answer. The control room was thick with the roar of gears and engines. Desperate and knowing these people needed saving, he sprinted up the embankment toward the gear pit—the area beneath the control panel where the bridge’s heavy machinery ground its great cogs into motion.

 

He knew there was a manual release lever—one his father had once shown him. If he could pull it, maybe he could lower the bridge in time.

 

But as he reached for it, he slipped and fell into the dark workings of the machine.

In the control room, Gregor saw out of the corner of his eye, his son’s feet disappearing into the opening. As he made motions to rush to his son’s aid, he looked up and became aware of the approaching train. He looked at his watch, it was early! Much closer than it should be.

 

Frantic, he ran to the edge of the platform and looked down. His son was tangled among the gears. Time slowed as Gregor’s hands hovered over the controls.

He had a choice.

 

If he didn’t lower the bridge, the train would crash, killing hundreds—maybe more. If he pulled the lever, the bridge would come down—and the massive gears would crush his only son.

 

Gregor screamed—a sound no human should ever have to make—and pulled the lever. The bridge groaned and creaked as it descended. The gears turned. And the train—full of lives totally unaware of the cost—raced safely across.

 

In the carriage, a woman stirred. She looked out the window and caught a glimpse of a man kneeling beside the tracks, face buried in his hands, wracked with grief. She didn’t know why, but something shifted in her. And in that moment, something changed. Her heart broke but her spirit awakened.

This story has been likened to that of the gospel. We read in Genesis of the rebellion of Man, and that our rebellion came with a high cost. But God had a generous plan for redemption and ultimately offered up His Son… and Jesus paid that price, willingly.

In John 3:16 we read, “For God so loved the world…” That He gave His only Son. 

Just like the man in the story, God faced a choice. But make no mistake—He didn’t hesitate. And in the same way, Jesus didn’t hesitate either. He chose to die so that we could live.

Many of us in this world ride the train of life without ever stopping to look out the window. We are so caught up in our destinations, our routines, our dreams, our sin, that we don’t realise what it cost for us to be saved.

But today, look out the window. See the Father. See the Cross. See the Son, who was crushed, so you and I could live. 

And like the woman on that train—let that change you.

Because of Jesus, we can know the forgiveness of our sin. Forgiveness, even of our wilful rebellion, and all we must do is ask for it.  

As high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His steadfast love toward those who fear Him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does He remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him. Psalm 103

May God bless you and give you a deep, new revelation of His love and generosity towards you.

God bless,

Pastor Matt Daly

College Chaplain