I was driving home recently after a consulting engagement in Indiana when my GPS interrupted the silence.
“I have found a faster route that saves you 25 minutes. Do you accept this new route?”
My first thought was almost automatic.
Why wouldn’t I accept a faster route?
Then I caught myself.
A new route is still a new route.
It leaves the familiar.
It asks us to trust roads we’ve never traveled before.
It invites us to believe that someone—or something—can see farther ahead than we can.
After a brief hesitation, I tapped Yes.
Within a few miles I had left the busy traffic of Interstate 80 behind.
The new road was quieter.
More peaceful.
And before long, I was home.
Later, I found myself wondering if that small moment had something larger to teach me.
Life has a way of asking similar questions.
A new ministry.
A new season.
A different understanding.
A relationship that changes us.
A bridge we never expected to cross.
We aren’t always pushed onto those roads.
Sometimes we’re simply asked,
“Do you accept this new route?”
I’ve been wondering…
When life quietly offers me a new route, what keeps me holding on to the familiar—and what might become possible if I trust the One who can see farther ahead than I can?
Capstone August 30th
Stories from the Bridge
When I first began sharing these stories, I thought they were about moments.
A son leaving home.
A quiet chapel.
A harvested field.
A peaceful death.
An unexpected road.
I see now that they were never really about those moments.
They were about the bridges hidden within them.
Because bridges are rarely destinations.
They are the places where we become someone new.
Looking back, I realize every crossing asked something of me.
To loosen my grip.
To trust what I could not yet see.
To receive gifts I didn’t know I needed.
To discover that grace often meets us in the middle, before we have reached the other side.
Perhaps that is why some bridges remain with us long after we have crossed them.
Not because we wish to go back.
But because they quietly shaped the way we now walk forward.
If these stories have taught me anything, it is this:
The most important part of a bridge is not the beginning.
Nor the end.
It is the faithful crossing.
Thank you for walking these bridges with me.
Until next time…
May we notice the crossings that invite our courage.
May we trust the One who sees farther than we can.
And may we remember that every faithful step becomes part of the path for those who follow.
Grace and peace,
Cindy