On the second day of our vacation trip to California, my wife and I had just entered the hotel room when we noticed the flashing red light on the telephone indicating that an incoming voicemail message was waiting for us. When we entered the code numbers required for its retrieval, we heard a recording of our oldest son, Jonathan, more than three thousand miles away on the east coast, asking us to call home as soon as possible. He calmly said it was important and he wanted to speak with us personally. Although it was past midnight in Boston, my son was still awake when we returned the call. He broke the news, in the most caring and sensitive way possible. My father had died unexpectedly of a heart attack. The events that followed seemed surreal. Within hours our travel plans were rearranged and we were boarding a plane for the transcontinental flight we had only just completed.

My father lived a full life. He recently told me that he had more than his 'threescore and ten' and that he was taking each day as a gracious bonus. Still the personal sense of loss seemed so immense; so unfathomable. In more than two decades of pastoral ministry I have frequently preached the hope of the gospel at the funerals of the faithful and offered comfort to the bereaving. This time the words would have a special poignancy. I would proclaim the Word my father had come to love and wanted so many to hear.

There was a gentle snowfall bringing a reverent hush to the college town of Hanover, New Hampshire the day his body was laid to rest. Together with family and friends we reflected upon the boy who initialed 'for the greater glory of God' upon his school papers; the young child fascinated with 'putting things together' and finding out 'how things worked'. He would grow up to play a part in some of the most exciting electrical engineering projects of the century, from the development of the transistor, microwave broadcasting networks, telecommunication satellites, plants that turned refuse to energy, supervising national defense communication projects ranging from the distant early warning system to the hot-line from the White House to Moscow, as well as handling the telecommunication projects for the world's largest city. But this man never boasted of any achievement. When one of his seven children asked him what he did for work, he responded with humor and humility, "I talk on the telephone." In his office, we discovered an award for his life-saving heroism as he jumped fully clothed one winter's day into a river to rescue a drowning man escaping the wreckage of his car after it plunged off a bridge into the icy current. Many of us had never heard of the incident.

My father was an engineer in the best sense of the word. He loved to solve problems. In many photographs we see him with his sleeves rolled up, ready to tackle a project. He would apply mathematical and scientific principles to develop efficient, imaginative and resourceful solutions. But he also realized that there were problems that could not be solved by human engineering - the problems of the heart. With all the latest technological expertise, we ourselves cannot transform the inner nature of man that is bent on selfishness. We cannot bridge the gulf that exists between a holy God and the morally flawed human race. Nor can we heal the broken heart. We cannot reverse the curse of death. My father realized that it was only divine engineering that could take on the greatest challenge of reconciling man to God and build a trust-worthy bridge from death to life.  And that is the bridge that gave him hope.

The Scriptures tell us that Jesus is the divinely engineered bridge to peace with God and life eternal. He said, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No man comes to the Father but by me." (John 14:6). None of our achievements or good works could ever merit or attain for us the perfect salvaging work that is freely offered to us through faith in Christ (Ephesians 2:8,9).

The Scriptures also promise that when the believer leaves his 'earthsuit' of a body, he is present with the Lord (2Corinthians 5:8). I imagine my father with his inquiring mind is presently delighting in the perfection of divine engineering. He will observe from a fresh vantage point how Christ is the Wisdom of God; the perfect solution to the human dilemma. He is appreciating anew how perfectly every claim of Christ is fitted to the need of humankind. He will inspect with wonder the solid bridge of God's redemptive act in history known as 'the Cross' where Christ's laid down life perfectly bridges the gap and opens up the way for sinners to find forgiveness, escape death and be born of a new nature into the family of God.

My dad also loved the outdoors. In his retirement years he maintained part of the Appalachian trail. He loved opening up a path for others to follow and share his joy. A friend from England furnished these words, that sum up the journey of the believer across the bridge to Life:

Life after darkness
Gain after loss
Strength after weakness
Crown after cross
Sweet after bitter
Hope after fears
Hope after wandering
Praise after tears
Near after distant
Gleam after gloom
Love after loneliness
Life after tomb
After long agony
Rapture of bliss
Right was the pathway
Leading to this