Life: A Bridged Version.

It happened yesterday, on my morning run. I was crossing a bridge, mentally promising myself that once I reached the other side, I would slow down the pace and take a breather. That was when God spoke to me, with words startlingly clear and profound. This is what He said:

You're on a bridge.

(…Thank you, Captain Obvious?)

The thing is, He wasn't talking about the literal bridge beneath my feet. After years upon years of lessons, I’ve learned that God is a big fan of metaphor.

So when He told me I was on a bridge, I knew exactly what He was talking about: this place I'm at in my life right now. This frustrating, confusing, suffocating place. This waiting room that I've been whining about for months. 

It's a bridge, linking the past I loved to the destiny God promised. 

I have this impulse. To run away, to escape. To jump off the bridge and swim, doggie-paddle until I reach the shore, or drown. It is because I am impatient. It is because I fear this bridge has no end. It is because I cannot see the other shore. It is because most days, I don't even feel like I'm moving at all. But, I’m learning: the impulse isn’t the answer.

I've had a lot of people tell me that after college, life is all downhill, but I refuse to believe it. I've still got plenty of mountains left to climb. I'm not ready to set up camp and spend the rest of my life wasting away in the valley. No. This is not the end. It is only a bridge. And by the grace of my Father, I'm going to reach the other side.