What Makes a Good Bridge?

Bridge 2 “Look, I’m not hurting anything. I just want to sit here and rest,” he said. To his right my church had a sign that stated, “No Loitering”
“It’s okay,” I replied in a gentle voice.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Yes.”

I went and got him a sack of food we keep for such occasions, and some water.

“Here ya go.”
“Thank you.”
“Your welcome. You mind if I hang out with you for a while?”
“Suit yourself,” he said as the sack crinkled while he checked out the food.
“What’s your name?”
“John,” he replied. His eyes, piercing, as if searching my soul.

The small talk started. It became clear he was a philosopher who didn’t have a place to hang his diploma. He also had a sense of humor. He shared he had made a mistake with his wife and kids, and she wasn’t willing to forgive. I felt that was my que to talk about God’s forgiveness. I tried hard to get him to come inside and sit in on the church service.

“I stink,” he kept saying.
“I assure you John, no one inside will care.” He was right about the odor too, but he insisted on attending the church service there on the sidewalk.

We talked for another 30 minutes or so. Before I left I offered to pray with him.

“You can do that in private, but not in front of me,” he said.

I didn’t understand, but respected his wishes. I’ve looked, but have never seen John again. Though thought of him often, I have prayed for him even more. I regretted not taking him to a restaurant to get something hot to eat. I also wish I had been brave enough to invite him to my house. He could have showered, I could have washed his clothes, and he could have slept on a soft, warm surface, even if for one night. I have consoled myself with knowing I did something, but I know I could have done more. Perhaps next time I will.

Since I have never seen an episode of “Bridge Hunters” on HGTV he replied, “One that has a flat surface to sleep on, and that isn’t facing into the wind.

Check it out: God never intended heaven to be served from earth. heartland church