The
edge of the deep angry gorge is less than a foot in front of my two
feet. My gray hair, hand tremors and aches that remind me daily that
my time is running out. My mind quickly flashes much of my life in
searching for moments I could claim as moments I had made big
advances for humanity and my Savior Jesus Christ. None seem to stand
out. The aching within me grabs me at this moment with more force
than I can remember.
As
though I was standing before the very throne of God, my heart pleads
my case to be given a God-honoring task that I could apply my 71
years of experience. Almost as a heavenly answer, I hear a shout from
the other side of the gorge that produces an echoing cry, I will
never be able to forget. The cry from across the ever widening gorge
is distinct. “HELP ME! NO ONE CARES ABOUT ME! HELP ME! NO ONE CARES
ABOUT ME!”
In
a way almost scary, I realize that my own heart has been afraid to
shout the very same words about myself. Somehow I sense that God is
at work. As I retrieve my binoculars from their carrying case, my
mind's eye imagines a bridge being built across the gorge. Adjusting
the focus on my binoculars, I see the person crying for help across
the deep chasm. Burned into my eyes and memory, I see a teenager
waving his arms at me as though he was waving for attention from a
deserted island, at a rescue plane flying over him. Though both my
hands were tightly gripping my field glasses, they felt more like
they were straining at the controls of a rescue plane flying
overhead. I sense that God is up to something; something that
involves me.
Letting
my field glasses hang on their strap around my neck, I wave my arms
at the teen with great excitement, almost relief, “I SEE YOU! I
SEE YOU!” Though my lips shout the words, they seem to be an echo
from Heaven... Thank God He sees me. My mind paints a picture of an
overhead rescue plane for me and that desperate teen. My mind's eye
sees it's pilot gripping the controls with scarred hands. His loving
words, so powerful, they reach my heart and anyone that will listen,
“I SEE YOU! I SEE YOU!”
As
though all this was happening by plan, the rescue plane contains much
of what is needed to build a bridge; not of bolts and beams, but of
compassion and communication; a bridge that can reach all the way
across the gorge. The materials are there, the directions are there,
but who will build the bridge?
Will
I?
