Bridge-Builder’s Child

He’s just a kid. A little boy.

Dirty socks, knobby knees, battered tennis shoes, all boy. A smile as wide as his skinny face. Vikings football, go-karts and his favorite band. A close family, playing, talking, arguing, loving.

Ankles crossed, concentrating hard on his book, grinning.

But that’s where it stops making sense. This boy reading, grinning, playing, living, is hooked up to machines that are saving his life. He’s not a boy who can go play a game of football with the neighborhood kids. He’s a boy who was hooked up to dialysis. A boy who is in hospice now because none of the treatment worked.

We would say what a tragedy; this life unlived; these plans still undone; these dreams yet untried.

This little boy who never had enough time for this world.

No one can make sense of this. No one but Him, the One with many Names.







And tonight, He is reminding us of one.


Tonight, there is a little boy at the edge of a river. A little boy with knobby knees and a smile as wide as his face. The river’s wide and cold and deep, but this bridge-builder walks on water.

This boy with the smile and the go-karts and the tennis shoes, this boy that tears at your heart, this boy no one is ready to let go… this boy has had no wasted life.

The Bridge-Builder calls, gently, softly, through the dark, before anyone is ready for the boy to listen.

Come home. It’s just across the bridge, this life you have to live. They’re so close, the plans you haven’t done yet. Take my hand, my child, and we’ll walk on water to meet those dreams you haven’t fulfilled yet.

He’s just a kid. A little boy.

But for a moment- and for everlasting- he is something more.

He is the Bridge-Builder’s child.


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