We were all really excited to cross the bridge. Well, all of us except one.
Our HADIME discipleship was in its final weeks, and as a group we were now travelling to share the Gospel with various remote indigenous villages in Mexico. One place in particular, high in the mountains, required crossing over a rather shaky-looking suspension bridge. Most of the students had no problem with this and were exclaiming over the amazing view on the other side. One of the students, however, hesitated. When I gave her a gentle push from behind to encourage her to cross, she promptly sat down on the ground and burst into tears.
“Que te pasa?” I asked her, concerned. “What’s wrong?” Brokenly, she shared with me how as a young child she had been forced across a terrifying bridge by her father. When she became paralyzed by fear halfway across, her father simply left her there, alone. My push had, literally, pushed her back into that trauma.
“I will not do that,” I told her. “I will not leave you alone on this bridge.” The look she gave me was both desperate yet trusting, as slowly she got back on her feet. We could see the other students, safe on the far side, waving us on with smiles and cheers. Together, we crossed over, and although she continued to cry quietly the entire time, she overcame her fear. Later, she told us how meaningful that crossing had been for her, how healing.
God does not ask us to cross our bridges alone. I am realizing this truth on a whole new level these days. Last year was my first experience as program director for HADIME. There were times when I felt overwhelmed with self-doubts, but never did I feel alone. Our team here was a constant source of encouragement, comforting me in my fear and challenging me to overcome it. I think to myself, it has been over a decade since my own time as a HADIME student. Back then, there were always others investing in my life, believing in me, and walking beside me. Now, I get to be that person for other students.
And the view is amazing, here on the other side.
