The tragic Baltimore Key Bridge collapse and an empty tomb

It started with an almost unthinkable radio transmission to an emergency number.

“The entire Key Bridge has fallen into the harbor.”

Then the video — like something from a sci-fi movie. One minute the heavily traveled Outer Harbor bridge stood there majestically. The next minute it was gone, in pieces in the river.  And then the deep sadness of knowing the workers on the bridge had gone with it.

As I awoke to that heartbreaking scene on the news, I immediately had two reactions.

One was to go to God for all the people who were hurt, lost, missing, grieving, and helping because He is, as the Bible says, “The God of all comfort and the Father of all compassion” (II Corinthians 1:3).

My second thought was, “The ‘always be there’ things in our life are like that bridge — they can be there one minute, then so suddenly be gone.”  That collapsing bridge, I thought, is a picture of what happens in so many grieving hearts.

Each day, all around us, people watch a piece of their life infrastructure crumble before their eyes. The marriage that was supposed to bring so much happiness, not so much pain. The future that is suddenly threatened by health issues may change everything. The plans that just blew up, the relationship on the rocks, the child in trouble, the return of a ghost from the past.

The Bible bluntly calls out how insecure our security really is: “What they trust in is fragile; what they rely on is a spider’s web. They lean on the web, but it gives way” (Job 8:14,15).

A fire. A tornado. A drunk driver crossing the line. A heart attack. It all can collapse in a moment.

Like the day I suddenly lost the love of my life. The day before was filled with the joy of our first grandchild’s graduation. My Karen was so alive. The next afternoon, she was gone. My mirror, my cheerleader, my wise counselor, my very best friend — a lot came crashing down that day.  One thing did not.          

In one of Jesus’ many parables, He tells about two houses: one built on sand, one on rock. They both look good until a violent storm comes. When it hits the house “without a foundation” and “the floods sweep down against that house, it will collapse in a heap of ruins.”  But when the floodwaters break against the house with its “foundation on solid rock … it stands firm because it is well built” (Luke 6:48, 49).

The storms, the crashes, the collapses are reminders that we were never meant to build everything on life’s shifting sand.  We need the “solid rock.”

And God reveals where our restless, fearful hearts can find it.  In the words of Scripture, “He has planted eternity in the human heart” (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

We’re created for something that’s indestructible. That lasts forever. 

Which is why so many searching hearts turn to Jesus. Because He put a transforming word in front of the word “life.” The word “eternal.” The Bible tells us “that God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. Whoever has the Son, has life!” (I John 5:11,12).

There’s only one Man who can give us unshakable, unlosable life — the one Man who proved He has it. Of the estimated 100 billion people who have lived on this planet, only one has ever walked out of His grave under His own power. Jesus. The One who, on Good Friday, loved me so much that He poured out His life on a cross to pay for the sin that had cut me off from God.

On a dark May day, I lost the love of my life. But not the One who loves me most. And who promises, “Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5).

Unending life. Unlosable love. Finally, the eternity hole in my heart was filled by the One it was made for.

This is the glory of Easter.  For when the Savior who walked out of His grave walks into your life, something transforming happens.

You’re safe. Forever.