Guest Author: Liz Giertz
As a girl growing up in Northern Virginia, we took family vacations all up and down the East Coast. This was back in the days before GPS and in-dash navigation systems and well, if I have to admit it, before cell phones and MapQuest, too. Every once in a while we would struggle to get from point A to point B, and my Dad would exclaim, “We can’t get there from here!”
I carried on the tradition, non-intentionally, many years ago on a camping trip to the Outer Banks when the road literally ran into the ocean. There “may” have been signs warning us of this hazard, but we must not have believed it at the time. Standing on the beach, we could see where we needed to go, but without a ferry or a bridge, we were stuck.
Now, our family faces a similar situation: we live less than a mile from the boys’ elementary school, but there is no safe way to walk or bike there. Between our house and the most direct route to the school looms a large overgrown area with water, sometimes stagnant and other times flowing. Apparently, one of my sons’ friends played in that ditch once and found a very large snake (there is no way I’d cross that ditch alone). We need a bridge.
Like that ditch, standing between heaven and me looms this overgrown, sometimes frightening chasm of my sin that I cannot cross on my own. Sometimes I find myself wallowing in that mess, and the evil serpent, Satan, pulls me back and convinces me I’m never going to make it. Like, when I realize I’ve lost my temper with my kids for the umpteenth time in one day. It is then that guilt washes over me as I hear his attacks:
“You are a terrible mother!”
“You’ve messed up too bad.”
“What if your kids grow up hating you?” or worse yet,
“What if your kids grow up just like you?”
Like quicksand, he drags me down, as his lies threaten to convince me that I will never reach righteousness from where I stand.
But the truth is: I already have a bridge; I already possess righteousness… and you can have it, too.
When we were unable to reach God, He spanned the distance with His very own Son’s sacrifice. We did not build this bridge ourselves, but we can choose to cross it by faith in Jesus Christ. His blood alone brings us near to God (Ephesians 2:13). He bridges the gap between us and eternity in heaven.
The words of the bible are the most powerful road sign we could ever hope to have guiding us on this journey. We CAN get there from here if we simply believe in Him and the power of His sacrifice to cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9). Not only is Jesus the bridge, but when we rely on Him, He will pluck us out of the miry clay, place our feet on solid ground, wash us off and point us in the right direction (Psalm 40:2).
Have you walked this bridge? If you have, don’t let the lies and discouragement of Satan pull you down. Stand firm on Jesus, His righteousness earned on your behalf, and the promise that no one can snatch you out of His hand (John 10:28).
If you haven’t, don’t let another day go by separated from God’s grace. He freely offers a relationship with Himself and eternal life to all who will believe on His Son, Jesus, the bridge to heaven. Don’t let the chasm of your sin discourage you-- Christ’s sacrifice has the ability to erase your past and set before you a bright future. Pray the prayer below knowing that when you call out to God through faith in Jesus Christ, you become forever united with Him through the “bridge” of Jesus.
Word of the Day:
“But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.” Ephesians 2:13
Dear Heavenly Father, I understand that when I couldn’t “get there from here,” you came to me through the power and the person of Jesus Christ. Thank you for reaching down from heaven, pulling me up out of my sin and drawing me closer to you. Thank you that I am forgiven when I fail and fall. I ask that today you would guide my steps and keep me from wallowing in my own shortcomings. Help me to always cling to the truth of Your word and Your perfect love for me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Follow Liz Giertz at her personal blog.