A Moose’s Tale—Both Serious and Slightly Antlered
I was born beneath a canopy of pine so thick, even the sun had to ask permission to peek through. The forest tall, they call it. And let me tell you—it’s not just tall. It’s tricky. It’s tangled. It’s teeming with lessons.
One day, I followed a trail of sweet-smelling berries. Thought I’d found paradise. Turns out, it was a trap laid by a raccoon with a flair for mischief and a questionable moral compass. Lesson: Not everything sweet is safe. Especially if it’s guarded by a raccoon named Gary.
I tried to share a watering hole. He tried to share his roar. Lesson: Some creatures don’t want peace—they want space. And sometimes, saying “I’m sorry” means backing away slowly while maintaining eye contact.
He watches. He judges. He quotes Proverbs at midnight. Lesson: Wisdom is good. But unsolicited advice from a bird who never blinks? That’s a different sermon.
One moment, I’m munching moss. The next, I’m a soggy, antlered lightning rod. Lesson: Life changes fast. Shelter matters. So does knowing which trees are less likely to fall on you.
Sometimes, I mess up. Trample a sapling. Snap a branch. Hurt a friend. The forest goes quiet. Lesson: The hardest part isn’t the mistake—it’s saying “I’m sorry.” But when I do, the forest sings again.
The forest tall is full of dangers. But it’s also full of grace. Every broken twig can be a lesson. Every muddy hoofprint can be a path back to peace. And every “I’m sorry” is a bridge—sometimes made of sticks, sometimes made of tears.
So if you ever find yourself lost in the forest tall, remember: Lift your head. Listen for grace. And don’t trust Gary the raccoon.
A guide to healing, humility, and restoration
In everyday life, trust begins again when “I’m sorry” is said. Proverbs 15:1 — “A soft answer turneth away wrath…”
An apology can stop a war. Matthew 5:9 — “Blessed are the peacemakers…”
Trust is impossible until forgiveness happens—“I’m sorry” helps that happen. Ephesians 4:32 — “Forgiving one another…”
Say sorry—have fewer problems. James 5:16 — “Confess your faults one to another…”
Eat crow—it takes humility to apologize. James 4:10 — “Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord…”
Say you’re sorry right away—if you wait too long, it festers. Ephesians 4:26 — “Let not the sun go down upon your wrath.”
Apologizing doesn’t make you weak—it makes you brave enough to heal. Proverbs 28:13 — “Whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy.”
Saying sorry opens the door to grace. 1 John 1:9 — “If we confess our sins…”
A true apology is a bridge—not a bandage. Hebrews 12:14 — “Follow peace with all men…”
Apologizing is a spiritual reset button. Psalm 51:10 — “Create in me a clean heart…”
Apologizing is a bridge to reconciliation. Romans 12:18 — “Live peaceably with all men.”
Saying sorry is a sign of strength, not weakness. Proverbs 16:32 — “He that ruleth his spirit…”
A quick apology can prevent a lifetime of regret. Proverbs 27:1 — “Boast not thyself of to morrow…”
Apologizing shows you value the relationship more than your ego. Philippians 2:3 — “Let each esteem other better than themselves.”
Saying sorry is a step toward peace with God and others. Psalm 34:14 — “Seek peace, and pursue it.”
A true apology includes change. Matthew 3:8 — “Bring forth therefore fruits meet for repentance.”
Apologizing can heal what pride would destroy. Proverbs 16:18 — “Pride goeth before destruction…”
Saying sorry is a way to love your neighbor. Matthew 22:39 — “Thou shalt love thy neighbour…”
Apologizing can heal generational wounds. Psalm 23:3 — “He restoreth my soul…”
Saying sorry is a form of confession that leads to mercy. Proverbs 28:13 — “Whoso confesseth and forsaketh…”
Saying sorry can change circumstances—not being sorry does too. Proverbs 28:13 — “He that covereth his sins shall not prosper…”
Saying sorry to others is because you love God more than yourself. John 3:30 — “He must increase, but I must decrease.”
Even if someone says sorry, it’s the beginning of change—sometimes it takes a while. Ecclesiastes 3:1 — “To every thing there is a season…”
When someone says sorry, I remember all the times I’ve been forgiven. Matthew 6:14 — “If ye forgive men their trespasses…”
When sorry is said, at least you know they care enough to say it. Romans 12:10 — “Be kindly affectioned one to another…”
Saying sorry means you truly want peace—not just quiet, but healing. Romans 14:19 — “Let us therefore follow after the things which make for peace…”
Live in peace with all that lieth within you. Romans 12:18 — “If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.”
Love—but love God more. That’s how we find the strength to forgive. Mark 12:30 — “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God…”
Saying sorry is a way to lay down your sword and pick up peace. James 3:17 — “The wisdom that is from above is… peaceable, gentle…”
Forgiveness begins where pride ends—and “I’m sorry” is the doorway. Proverbs 13:10 — “Only by pride cometh contention…”
Taking up God’s sword means fighting off bitterness—with truth, humility, and grace. Hebrews 4:12 — “The word of God is… sharper than any twoedged sword…”
.
A puppet stage with a painted backdrop of the New River Gorge Bridge, river below, and hills on either side. A sign reads: “Live from Almost Heaven!”
“Welcome, folks! I’m Ralph the Reporter, and today we’re crossing over into stories of rescue, reunion, and raccoon heroics! Let’s start with Granny Grace—Granny, what was life like before the bridge?”
“Well, Ralph, back then winter roads were slipperier than a banana peel at a penguin party. We didn’t travel unless it was life or death. And sometimes… it was.”
“Yikes! And now?”
“Now I visit my grandkids, go to church, and even get pizza in a snowstorm. That bridge gave us back our winters.”
“One night, I saw a car parked on the bridge. Fog everywhere. I felt something was wrong. I ran. I found a man ready to jump. I called for help. Deputies came. We saved him.”
“Richie, you’re a hero!”
“Nah. I was just on the bridge. The real hero? The one who built it.”
“I was rafting. We flipped. I got swept away. I thought I was gone. But someone grabbed me. I didn’t even see his face.”
“That’s how grace works, Lena. You don’t always see it coming. But it never lets go.”
“I am the bridge. I span the chasm between fear and freedom. Between danger and delight. Between death and life. Cross over. I will carry you.”
“Well folks, we’ve heard it all—from icy roads to river rescues. But one thing’s clear: this bridge isn’t just steel and stone. It’s a symbol. A sermon. A Savior.”
🎵 “Jesus is the Bridge, strong and wide, He carries us to the other side. From fear to faith, from sin to save, He holds us close, When we believe and trust in Him and his holy ways.” 🎵
Theme: Jesus is the bridge between fear and faith
Scripture: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you…” —Isaiah 43:2
Questions:
Prayer:
“Thank You, Jesus, for being strong when we feel weak. Thank You for carrying us across the storms. Help us trust You when the path is scary. Amen.”
🎵 “Jesus is the Bridge, strong and wide, He carries us to the other side. From fear to faith, from sin to save, He holds us close, When we believe and trust in Him and his holy ways.” 🎵
🎵
Add hand motions like “bridge arms,” “walking feet,” and “hugging arms” for younger kids!
Susan Barker Nikitenko 2025© nmrmpmkbpbANNABENMBMPGEORGPASTOR #25
There is a certain magic in bridges. They span raging rivers, connect distant lands, and bring together people who might otherwise remain apart. Have you ever stood in the middle of a long bridge and marveled at how it joins what seemed impossible to connect? As children, bridges seem like playground props or cool places to drop sticks and race leaves. As adults, we appreciate the crucial connections bridges bring to a city or community. In both wonder and practicality, a bridge means access where otherwise there would only be separation.
Yet, not all gorges are made of water, rocks, or busy highways. Some are deeper—spiritual gaps that divide us from God, from one another, and even sometimes from our own sense of purpose or hope. Into the heart of this divide comes Jesus Christ, described in the Bible as both the Good Shepherd and the Door—the one who lays down His life at the opening, protecting, guiding, and ultimately bridging the chasm between humanity and God. The story is old, but its power is ageless, brimming with meaning for children and adults alike.
This devotional lesson, rooted solidly in the King James Version (KJV) of the Bible, will invite you to see Jesus not just as a distant figure in religious history, but as the living bridge to salvation, safety, and relationship with God. Through storytelling, humor, theological depth, and opportunities for reflection, we invite everyone—whether you are young or seasoned, new to faith or a lifelong believer—to step onto the bridge Christ builds for us all.
The Bible is filled with images and stories of separation and reconciliation, chasms and crossings. But perhaps nowhere is the "bridge" metaphor more vivid than in the words of Jesus Himself:
John 14:6 (KJV):
“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”
John 10:7, 9-11 (KJV):
“Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep. ... I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture. ... I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.”
Acts 4:12 (KJV):
“Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.”
These scriptures present three essential truths: there is a chasm, Jesus is the only way across it, and He lays down His life so that all may find safety and life on the other side. The bridge is not a structure made of steel or stone, but a person—Jesus, who by His own sacrifice gives us access to God.
Let us turn now to the beautiful image Jesus gives in John 10, deepening our understanding of the “bridge”: the Near Eastern shepherd, his sheep, and the door.
Shepherding in biblical times was no easy task. The land was wild, especially at night, filled with dangers—wolves, thieves, and lurking shadows. After a long day of grazing, the sheep were led into a stone-walled sheepfold, often a circular enclosure with only one narrow opening. This opening was not closed with a gate or wooden door. Instead, the shepherd himself lay down across the entrance, literally becoming the door. No sheep could leave, and no threat could enter, except over his body.
When Jesus refers to Himself as "the door" and "the good shepherd," He is evoking this tangible, protective love. Not only does He guide the sheep to pasture, but He becomes the living bridge between the safety of the fold and the dangers outside. The sheep are protected not by mere walls, but by the self-sacrifice of the shepherd.
In the sheepfold, voices mattered more than faces. Multiple flocks could be kept together, their only distinction being the unique call of each shepherd. When the shepherd called, his sheep followed—without hesitation or confusion. Jesus uses this detail to reveal another layer: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27, KJV). Just as in ancient times, Jesus’ followers know His voice and find safety in His calling.
But the story goes deeper. The "laying at the door" is not just for comfort or convenience, it is an act of total self-sacrifice: “The good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep” (John 10:11). Jesus is the bridge not because of how smart or sturdy He is, but because He is willing to lay Himself down, to become the way across—for you, for me, for all.
In considering this metaphor, one ancient preacher may have put it with some humor: "You never heard of a sheep that would risk its neck for the shepherd. And yet here is our Shepherd, who threads Himself like a bridge across the chasm, just so that we might get home safe." If that doesn't invite a grateful "aww," what does?
The very heart of the Christian message starts with a problem: sin. The Bible teaches that sin separates us from God—every wrong thought, word, or deed; every selfish impulse. Picture two cliffs with an unbridgeable chasm between. On one side is us, with all our brokenness and good intentions; on the other is God, holy and perfect. No amount of “good works,” religion, or positive thinking can build a bridge across this gap.
We may try to build our own bridges—by being extra nice, going to church, giving to charity, reading the Bible, or just trying not to mess up. Each effort falls short; the chasm remains. Romans 6:23 says, “For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”
But the gospel’s “good news” begins precisely here: God himself provides the only true bridge. Jesus comes from heaven to earth, living the only perfect life, and then laying down His own life as a sacrifice. "I am the way, the truth, and the life," says Jesus; "no man cometh unto the Father, but by me" (John 14:6, KJV). Unlike human efforts, this bridge is solid, secure—anchored on the very love and faithfulness of God.
Jesus is not only the bridge for our salvation but for our relationship with God day by day. At every fear, every failure, every joy, it is through Christ that we approach God confidently—not as distant strangers, but as beloved children. “In whom we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith of him” (Ephesians 3:12, KJV). And just as the shepherd knows his sheep by name, Jesus knows and loves each of us individually, inviting us home, again and again.
A classic way to share this message—with energy, fun, and memorable visuals—is the “bridge illustration” for children (and honestly, for adults too). Place two chairs across the room. Label one "GOD" and the other "MAN." Draw a rugged “chasm” (use a scarf or a piece of rope). Try to get the kids to “jump” across the gap—it’s impossible! Next, let them “build bridges”—maybe with books, sticks, or anything at hand (all will fall short). Then bring out a large cross or simply place a volunteer (or a board labeled “JESUS”) over the gap. Invite each child to walk across the bridge, showing visually and physically how Jesus alone spans the divide. For a fun twist, add a “shark pit” and have kids pretend to cross safely, reinforcing that Jesus keeps us from the dangers our own methods can’t avoid.
Reflection Questions for Kids:
Who was able to cross the gap?
What made the difference?
How does it feel knowing Jesus is the bridge for you?
For adults, the challenge is much the same, though perhaps our chasms are more hidden—the regrets we cannot fix, relationships we cannot mend, weaknesses we cannot conquer. In Christ, faith is not a leap into the unknown, but a confident step onto a bridge God has built at infinite cost.
Personal Reflection:
Where are you still trying to “jump” the gap on your own?
Are you trusting Jesus as the only way, or depending on your own “bridge-building”?
How can you rest today in His finished work, knowing that “He is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him” (Hebrews 7:25, KJV)?
It’s been said that if Jesus were a construction engineer, He’d only need one blueprint: Himself. In fact, think of the conversation in the children’s lesson, with a character named “Archie Keystone” insisting:
“Nah, Jesus ain’t no bridge! He ain’t made of concrete or bricks, and you don’t drive your car over Him! Why would anyone try to drive their car over Jesus? Go build a bridge outta hot lava and fruit if you want, but only Jesus can bridge us to God!”
This lighthearted confusion not only keeps kids giggling, but helps everyone see: Jesus isn’t a literal piece of construction material, but in God’s design, He’s sturdier than steel.
Anecdote: There’s also the classic about the little boy who prays, “Lord, if you’re really there, help me get across this creek!” He then walks a log (wobbling and slipping, barely making it). Beaming afterward, he declares: “Thank you, Lord! And thanks for the log!” Sometimes God’s bridge is right in front of us; all we need is the courage to trust it!
Imagine with me, as we settle into ancient hills dotted with olive trees. The sun has long set, and the chill of evening climbs from the dusty earth. You, a sheep, shuffle nervously among your brothers and sisters into the sheepfold. Mud walls three feet thick rise around you. Thorny brambles top the stones. The only entrance is a gap, barely wide enough for one sheep at a time.
Now the shepherd, your shepherd, settles in. He counts each one as they pass. Satisfied that all are present, he lies across the entrance, his body the only blockade between you and the dangers prowling outside. You sleep in peace, not because there are no threats, but because of who is watching—someone willing, if necessary, to give everything for your safety.
Isn’t this exactly what Jesus promises us? “I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep” (John 10:11, KJV). The story is not merely to send us off with warm fuzzies—it’s to anchor us in a love deeper than fear, stronger than sin, more enduring than life itself.
Children and adults alike can close their eyes and imagine:
The shepherd’s rough hands, callused from stones.
The gentle voice that calms fretful sheep.
The warmth, the trust, the knowledge that no matter what the night holds, the shepherd is in the opening.
When you think of Jesus as your bridge, picture this: not a plank over a river, but the living Son of God, lying at your door, refusing to let thieves or wolves past, carrying your burdens, calling you by name.
At the very heart of the gospel is this truth: God refused to leave us stranded on the far side of the chasm. He did not send us instructions or merely call over the gap with advice. Instead, He came Himself—Immanuel, God with us. He became our bridge, our door, our shepherd, our hope.
When we were lost and unable to get to Him, Jesus built the bridge with His body and blood, then called us by name, and laid Himself down that we would be forever safe. As John 3:16 so simply and powerfully puts it, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
So, whether you first heard the story in Sunday School, or find it new and wondrous now, let it move something inside you—wonder, gratitude, even tears. For in a world that so often feels divided, disconnected, and dangerous, Christ has already spanned the gap, made a way, and whispered, “Come to me.”
And here’s the “aww” moment for anyone at any age: Whenever you feel lost, scared, or unsure of your path, remember—there’s a Shepherd lying at your door, a Bridge that will never tremble, a Savior who says, “You’re safe with me. Welcome home.”
