The Bridge

It seemed as if it came from nowhere

That voice I thought I heard.

It was just a whisper on the wind,

A soft and gentle caressing of my ear.

"Who will be the bridge?" it said

With a heart breaking plea.

I looked around to see

Who might be near and whispering in my ear

But no one could I espy.

So back to my preoccupation I went

When once again I heard those words

With a more insistent plea.

I began to pay more attention

And realized I felt a warm and gentle feeling

That is always there when God comes near.

I asked the Lord what He meant by those words

And His reply did swiftly come.

"Who will reach out to the wounded one

And give a helping hand?" He said.

"Who will pull the homeless

From the pit into which they fell?

Who will give of their time and bring

A precious child to my side?

Who will clothe the naked one

And spread the good news

Of my redemption and love

To a lost and sinful world?"

In confusion and fear

I told the Lord that I didnít know how.

I was afraid I would be ridiculed

And people would think I had lost my mind.

His gentle reply reminded me

Of the suffering of His Son,

Of the ridicule and the beating

And of the cross on which He hung.

I realized then that I donít need

To provide the strength or the words

All I need do is to be a willing vessel

And act as a bridge across the troubled waters

And God will do the rest.

By: Ann Martin

July 23, 2000

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