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Fear of crossing over to the other side.
Gephyrophobia is a phobia of bridges. I used to have a friend who would have an escort drive her across Maryland's Chesapeake Bay Bridge, a breathtaking 4-mile, 185-foot high expanse.
Apparently, the fear for many is the imagined threat of losing control, careening through the guardrails and plummeting. Someone else driving is reassurance to quell the terror.
I don't have a fear of of bridges. But fear of losing control? I have that by the bucketload. And yet it's so obvious that MY driving across this bridge of life is RISKY. The solution for me is the same: Let someone else drive.
When I gave my life to Christ, I handed him the keys to my car. Wrestling over who gets to drive hasn't worked so well.
In the last few weeks, God has used a variety of methods to remind me I gave him the keys. He has the keys. He is the key. For one thing, I was without a car for a week while my husband's car was in the shop and we toiled over whether to repair it or get another. A mounting list of big items over which I had no control prompted me to stop the car.
Will I let him drive over this bridge, allowing me to enjoy the view?
Will I give him back the keys?
Will I trust him?
Please.