Not My Way

There is a primitive bridge in South America made up of interlocking vines which support a precariously swinging wooden walkway — hundreds of feet above a river. Author Philip Yancey once stood at the edge of the great gulf trying to decide whether to cross over. “I knew the bridge had supported hundreds of people over many years,” he said, “and even as I stood there, I could see people confidently crossing over.”

He reasoned, “The engineer in me wanted to weigh all the factors; measure the stress tolerance of the vines; test the wood for termites; survey all the bridges in the area for one that might have been stronger. I could have spent a lifetime determining whether the bridge was trustworthy. But eventually, if I really wanted to cross, I had to take a step. And when I…