Column by Bro. Terry Ivy
“For there is one God, and one mediator also between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” (1Timothy 2:5) Bridges help us travel to locations that would otherwise be very difficult or impossible to reach. Life is filled with impassable ravines and roads; however, none is greater than the gulf that exists between mankind and God. Through his life, death, burial, and resurrection, Jesus became the bridge that is the only passage to God and Heaven.
Bridges have seemed to be a key component of my life. Mom reminded me of when Dad would take my brother and me fishing on Saturdays when I was a young boy. But I didn’t know the whole story. Dad knew what it was like to grow up poor and go days without food. For many weeks, the only meal he and his brothers had was when his father killed a rabbit or squirrel. Hunting was for the necessity of food, not sport.
Throughout my early youth, Dad would go fishing on many Saturdays, usually under the old Chickasawhay River Bridge in Quitman. He would ask my brother and me to go. We would ride to Chestnut Grocery, Bait, and Tackle store to get worms, crickets, and minnows. After weeks and years of doing this, fishing became boring to my young heart. I thought, “Why doesn’t Dad do things I like? Does it always have to be fishing?”
After Dad passed away last year, Mom completed the story for me. Dad was fishing to put food on our table. He was trying to feed his family, and fishing was the best way he knew how to provide quickly. It was not about sport. It was about providing for his children. All those times as a young boy, I had despised the constant invitation to go fishing, only to learn that he was trying to spend time with his boys without burdening us with ‘why’ we were always fishing. I wish I could repent to him for my attitude about fishing every Saturday, but I never understood until Mom shared the reason with me. I’ve cried buckets of tears asking the Lord to forgive me. Every time I cross the river bridge, I think of Dad and thank God for those Saturday morning fishing trips. One day, I’ll thank him!
In 1980, I was sick of the sin, shame, and guilt I was living in. So, I decided to commit suicide. I planned on driving a truck over the railing of Archusa Creek Bridge on old highway 45. As I gripped the steering wheel to end my life, God stepped across time and eternity, melted my heart, and intervened in my decision. I began crying out for mercy and grace, asking the Lord to forgive me and take control of my life. I entered the bridge as an unredeemed and helpless young man—but I exited the other side as a child of God.
My earthly Dad provided for my siblings and me under an old river bridge. The Lord, in His mercy, arrested my heart and redeemed me as I crossed a bridge. And for all who will turn to God for salvation, Jesus Christ is…The Bridge!
