A man once spent years building a bridge of cedar and iron across a deep ravine to reach the home of a friend. He carried every beam himself, carved each joint with care, and laid every nail in sweat and good intention. The bridge stood firm through storms and time. But one day, betrayed and grieved, he set fire to the bridge, convinced it was the only way forward.
As the flames rose, he watched not just the bridge burn, but all that he had sacrificed to build it—his labour, his trust, his craftsmanship. And when the fire died, he realised he had not only cut off the road to the other side, but had also destroyed the path he had taken to become the man who could build such a bridge.
Thus he learned that some bridges, once burned, do not return in smoke to the sky—they return in regret to the soul. Not every betrayal demands fire. Sometimes, the wiser course is to guard the path and close the gate, not demolish the road you built with your own hands.
“If it be possible, as much as is in you, have peace with all men.” (Romans 12:18)
