Parabel: The footbridge

Written by Reinhard Bonnke

download .pdf A story from Reinhard Bonnke’s autobiography “Living a Life of Fire” The footbridge had no stabilisers, no supports to keep it from swaying. It stretched dangerously above a deep, rocky chasm. The walkway had been constructed of two cables with wooden slats strung between them, nothing more. There were not even any handrails. To my way of thinking, this bridge was not a proper crossing. It was a deathtrap. I would not think of stepping onto it. It was then that I noticed a foolish soul attempting to cross. Like a high-wire amateur, the man held out his arms for balance. He crept, inch by inch, toward the other side, staring down at his trembling legs and feet. The wooden walkway tipped and swayed beneath him. I rushed to the edge of the cliff and looked over. The bottom of the gorge could not be seen below. It was covered in morning mist. The fog moved like a river through this great gash in the earth. I looked back at the man. He had made surprising progress, bringing himself nearly halfway to the other side. In my heart I wished him well, but suddenly the cloud of fog rose on an updraft from the canyon. It engulfed the walkway just in front of the man. He was unaware of it. His eyes were trained on his own feet and I knew as surely as I breathed that if that man stepped into the fog he would lose his balance. He would plunge to his death. I rushed to the base of the bridge to see if I could rescue him. Arriving there, I could see that if I placed one foot on that rickety walkway it would totally destroy the man’s equilibrium. I could only warn him. “Sir, stop!” I shouted. “You must stop! The fog is in front of you.” The man turned and glanced back at me. That moment, a shaft of pain stabbed through my soul. The man was my own brother, Jürgen. Ignoring my warning, he turned quickly and disappeared into the fog. “Jürgen! Jürgen!” I cried. Suddenly I heard a cry and then a terrible scream. It faded and echoed below as he fell. “Reinhaaaaard!” I woke up. My sheets were drenched in sweat. My heart pounded in my chest. A thousand buried feelings rose up in my heart and washed over me. I wanted to weep aloud for Jürgen. I knew that he had wandered far from Jesus. Lord, what have I seen? The answer was clear and specific: “Jürgen is on the bridge to eternity. If you don’t warn the godless man, I hold you accountable for his death.” I objected. Lord, this makes no sense. I know Jürgen is far from you, but how can I warn him when he knows the way of salvation as well as I do? If you don’t warn the godless man, I will hold you accountable for his death. Why did I question God? I don’t know. Perhaps I reacted like the Virgin Mary when the angel Gabriel announced that she would have a baby. It made no sense to her natural mind. She said, “Lord, how will this be since I have never known a man? This is not a question of unbelief, but a question of how to obey. Jürgen and his twin, Peter, were close in years and experience to me. We remember many things alike. They were nearly six and I was five when we were forced to flee for our lives at the end of World War II. Mother prayed and read her Bible every day for guidance and protection. We survived the internment camp together. When released from military duty, our father became a Pentecostal pastor and we were soon reunited with him. However, as the years passed by, all my older brothers – Martin, Gerhard, Peter, and Jürgen – began to question the family faith. Even the stories of our deliverance at the fall of East Prussia was questioned. They found other natural ways to explain our escape at the end of the war. It was not the hand of God, they said, it was chance, luck, coincidence, fate – anything but God. Even our father’s healing from tuberculosis could be explained in terms of psychology and psychosomatic symptoms, they decided. I know that this is a familiar story. It happens in many families. Some children remain true to the faith while others go astray. The Bible repeats a sad phrase from the history of God’s people: “… and they forsook the Lord, the God of their fathers, who had brought them out of the land of Egypt. This scripture came true before my eyes as Jürgen and I grew up. He and my older brothers forsook the way of the Lord. It was hurtful for me. My younger sister, Felicitas, and I were part of that same family and we held to the faith of our parents until it became completely real to us. What made the difference? There are probably as many explanations as there are families. I know that in Germany after the war there was much blaming. Everything from the older generation came under criticism. Our father’s claims about God’s miraculous favour were placed in the same basket as death camp discoveries and other wartime Nazi horrors. “Where was God?” my brothers asked. “Do we think the Bonnkes were his favorites? We were allowed to escape, while thousands of others died around us! What kind of God would do that?” With questions like those, my brothers rejected faith and began to worship intellect and science. They were determined never to make the same mistakes as the older generation in Germany. They saw belief in the Lord as something easily manipulated and they wrongly thought that by using their minds they would rise above it. They invested themselves in schooling as I began to invest myself in our father’s church activities. Our paths went east and west. In recent years while building CfaN, I returned to Germany a number of times. My heart would hurt as I saw so many decisions for Christ around the world, yet my own brothers were still completely hardened to the gospel. … Why are you now telling me, “If you don’t warn the godless man, I will hold you accountable for his death?” What do you mean? Am I to preach him the sermon he has heard a thousand times? Will he learn anything new if I tell him again he is a sinner and bound for hell? He knows that you sent Jesus to die for his sins. I don’t understand. The Lord whispered to my heart, “Write him a letter and tell him what you have seen in this dream.” Yes! That sounded like God speaking to me. It was not an idea that would have occurred to my natural mind. “I will do it, Lord”, I said. I turned over and went back to sleep. The next morning I woke up and started another day with the family. In all of the normal excitement of preparing to move to Germany, I forgot about my dream. Suddenly, in the middle of the day, I heard the Holy Spirit speak clearly to me. “You have not written the letter. I will hold you accountable for his death.” I stopped everything. Excusing myself for a few minutes, I sat down and wrote that letter, telling Jürgen what I had seen in the dream. Then I sent it via airmail. As the weeks went by I did not hear a reply. I left it in God’s hands. I had obeyed. Now I went on with my life and eventually it left my mind. … We settled into our new headquarters in Frankfurt. Immediately, things began to improve on every side. We found that our German passports and visas were universally accepted. Money transfers were seamless. Airline ticketing unquestioned. All the sanctions that were leveled against South Africa disappeared from our operation as soon as we changed our address. This confirmed the wisdom of the decision. Finances also improved. While our South African support fell to just 5 per cent of its former level, German and UK supporters increased in even greater numbers. It was as if they suddenly thought of us as one of their own with our headquarters now located in Europe. We had not anticipated that. The benefits of relocating continued to pile up. When Anni and I returned from Harare, waiting for us at home was a huge stack of mail. We gathered the children – Freddy, Susanne and Gabriele – to sort it out. The children were anxious to hear from the friends they had left behind in Witfield, and so were we. After spending some time sifting through it, Anni came to me and dropped a hand-addressed envelope in my lap. “You had better read this one right away,” she said. I took the envelope and examined the address. It was from Jürgen Bonnke. Suddenly I remembered how I had written to him from South Africa weeks ago. I had heard nothing back, and in all the excitement of the Harare Fire Conference I had forgotten about it completely. Now, here in Germany came this letter. Anni and the children knew how important family communication was to me. They gathered around, eager to see what “Uncle Jürgen” had to say. I ripped open the envelope and unfolded the document inside. “Dear Reinhard, My wife has left me. My best friend recently died of cancer. I have been so frustrated I felt that life was no longer worth living. I wanted to kill myself. But in the night I had a dream. I was walking on a bridge. It was unstable and had no handrails and I slipped and screamed as I fell. I woke up, sweating with fear …” At this point my voice became husky with emotion. Anni and the kids did not understand this. They did not know that Jürgen was describing my dream. I had said nothing to them about it. I continued reading … “I jumped out of bed and said, ‘Almighty God, you know that I don’t even believe in you, but I have a brother who serves you. If you have spoken to me through this dream, speak to me through Reinhard.’ Sometime later your letter came. Your dream was my dream. I have given my life to Jesus. He has forgiven me my sins …” At this point I was weeping and could not even talk. I could not help myself, and it took quite an effort to bring Anni and the kids up to date on the details behind Jürgen’s story. Once they understood, however, they shared my tears and my joy. This kind of thing prostrates my soul before the King of kings and Lord of lords. It reveals his great heart of love for us. The ties that bind a family together must surely mean more in the Spirit than we can know in the flesh. God had linked us together even though we were 5,000 miles apart, causing us to dream the same dream. This is so much more than coincidence. God spoke to me, telling me to share the dream in a letter. I almost neglected his still small voice. Today, my brother Jürgen is saved, yet he is also a broken man. His health is gone, his mental abilities nearly wiped out. He lives in a nursing home. But soon – perhaps by the time you read this story – he will be face to face with the Lord we both long to see. I am so happy. In conclusion, I have three things to say concerning your Unsaved Loved Ones. They are three things to remember when you find yourself thinking “There’s no way it’s going to happen”. Three thins to bring to the forefront of your mind when you feel exhausted, worn-out and without hope. These three things that can make all the difference to their eternal salvation. Those three things are Reinhard Bonnke