THE DECISION

The time was the Roaring Twenties. The place was Oklahoma. John Griffith was in his early twenties ~
newly married and full of optimism. Along with his lovely wife, he had been blessed with a beautiful,
blue-eyed baby. With delight and excitement, John was dreaming the American dream.

He wanted to be a traveler. He imagined what it would be like to visit faraway places with
strange-sounding names. He would read about them and research them. His hopes and dreams
were so vivid that at times they seemed more real than reality itself. But then came 1929
and the great stock market crash.

With the shattering of the American economy came the devastation of John's dreams.
The winds that howled through Oklahoma were strangely symbolic of the gale force that was
sweeping away his hopes. Oklahoma was being systematically ravaged by depression and despair.

And so, brokenhearted, John packed up his few possessions and with his wife and little son, Greg,
headed east in an old Model-A Ford. They made their way toward Missouri, to the edge of
the Mississippi River, and there he found a job tending one of the great railroad bridges
that spanned the massive river.

Day after day John would sit in a control room and direct the enormous gears of an immense bridge
over the mighty river. He would look out wistfully as bulky barges and splendid ships glided
gracefully under his elevated bridge. Then, mechanically, he would lower the massive structure
and stare pensively into the distance as great trains roared by and became little more than
specks on the horizon. Each day he looked on sadly as they carried with them his
shattered dreams and his visions of far-off places and exotic destinations.

It wasn't until 1937 that a new dream began to be birthed in his heart. His young son was
now eight years old, and John had begun to catch a vision for a new life, a life in which Greg
would work shoulder-to-shoulder with him, a life of intimate fellowship and friendship.
The first day of this new life dawned and brought with it new hope and a fresh purpose. Excitedly
they packed their lunches and, arm in arm, headed off toward the immense bridge.

Greg looked on in wide-eyed amazement as his dad pressed down the huge lever that raised
and lowered the vast bridge. As he watched, he thought that his father must surely be
the greatest man alive. He marveled that his dad could single-handedly control the
movements of such a stupendous structure.

Before they knew it, noontime had arrived. John had just elevated the bridge and allowed
some scheduled ships to pass through. And then, taking his son by the hand, they headed off
for lunch. Hand in hand, they inched their way down a narrow catwalk and out onto
an observation deck that projected some 50 feet over the majestic Mississippi. There they
sat and watched spellbound as the ships passed by below.

As they ate, John told his son, in vivid detail, stories about the marvelous destinations of
the ships that glided below them. Enveloped in a world of thought, he related story after story,
his son hanging on every word.

Then, suddenly, in the midst of telling a tale about the time the river had overflowed its banks,
he and his son were startled back to reality by the shrieking whistle of a distant train.
Looking at his watch in disbelief, John saw that it was already 1:07. Immediately he
remembered that the bridge was still raised and that the Memphis Express
would be by in just minutes.

Not wanting to alarm his son, he suppressed his panic. In the calmest tone he could muster,
he instructed his son to stay put. Quickly leaping to his feet, he jumped onto the catwalk.
As the precious seconds flew by, he ran at full tilt to the steel ladder leading into the control house.

Once in, he searched the river to make sure that no ships were in sight. And then,
as he had been trained to do, he looked straight down beneath the bridge
to make certain nothing was below. As his eyes moved downward,
he saw something so horrifying that his heart froze in his chest.
For there, below him in the massive gearbox that housed the colossal gears
that moved the gigantic bridge, was his beloved son.

Apparently Greg had tried to follow his dad but had fallen off the catwalk.
Even now he was wedged between the teeth of two main cogs in the gearbox.
Although he appeared to be conscious, John could see that his son's leg
had already begun to bleed profusely. Immediately an even more horrifying thought
flashed through his mind. For in that instant he knew
that lowering the bridge meant killing the apple of his eye.

Panicked, his mind probed in every direction, frantically searching for solutions. Suddenly
a plan emerged. In his mind's eye he saw himself grabbing a coiled rope, climbing down the ladder,
running down the catwalk, securing the rope, sliding down toward his son, and pulling him
back up to safety. Then in an instant he would move back down toward the control lever
and thrust it down just in time for the oncoming train.

As soon as these thoughts appeared, he realized the futility of his plan. Instantly,
he knew that there just wouldn't be enough time. Perspiration began to bead
on John's brow, terror written over every inch of his face.
His mind darted here and there, vainly searching for yet another solution.

His thoughts rushed in anguish to the oncoming train. In a state of panic, his agonized mind
considered the 400 people that were moving inexorably closer toward the bridge. Soon the train
would come roaring out of the trees with tremendous speed.

His mother ~ he could see her tear-stained face now.
This was their child, their beloved son.
He was his father and this was his boy.

He knew in a moment there was only one thing he could do.
He knew he would have to do it.
And so, burying his face under his left arm,
he plunged down the lever.

The cries of his son were quickly drowned out by the relentless sound of the bridge
as it ground slowly into position. With only seconds to spare, the Memphis Express ~
with its 400 passengers ~ roared out of the trees and across the mighty bridge.

John Griffith lifted his tear-stained face
and looked into the windows of the passing train.

A businessman was reading the morning newspaper.

A uniformed conductor was glancing nonchalantly
at his large vest pocket-watch.

Ladies were already sipping their afternoon tea
in the dining cars.

A small boy, looking strangely like his own son, Greg,
pushed a long thin spoon into a large dish of ice cream.

Many of the passengers seemed to be engaged
in either idle conversation or careless laughter.

But no one looked his way.
No one even cast a glance at the giant gearbox
that housed the mangled remains of his hopes and dreams.

No one answered; no one heard. No one even looked. Not one of them seemed to care.
And then, as suddenly as it had happened, it was over. The train disappeared, moving rapidly
across the bridge and out over the horizon.

Even now as I retell this story, my face is wet with tears. For this allegory illustration
is but a faint glimpse of what God the Father did for us in sacrificing His Son, Jesus,
to atone for the sins of the world (John 3:16).

However, unlike the Memphis Express that caught John Griffith by surprise,
God ~ in His great love and according to His sovereign will and purpose ~
determined to sacrifice His Son so that we might live (I Peter 1:19-20). Not only that,
but the consummate love of Christ is demonstrated in that He was not accidentally "caught,"
as was John's son. Rather, He willingly sacrificed His life for the sins of humankind
(John 10:18; Matthew 26:53).

"Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not redeemed
with corruptible things, as silver and gold .......
but with the precious blood of Christ ...... "

~ 1 Peter 1:18-19

(This powerful story was read to us at church by our pastor one Sunday a few years ago.
I asked for a copy because I knew that one day I wanted to share it somewhere in some way.
That was before I even owned a computer.)