The Condemned Highway That Saved a City

In 2019, engineers inspecting the Hernando de Soto Bridge connecting Arkansas and Tennessee discovered a critical fracture in a steel beam — a crack that had been growing, hidden beneath layers of paint and grime, for years. The bridge carried 50,000 vehicles daily. Officials shut it down immediately. Commuters were furious. Businesses complained about detoured supply chains. But the engineers were unmoved by the outrage. The crack was real, and no amount of fresh paint or public opinion could make that bridge safe again. It had to be stripped down to bare steel, the fracture repaired at its source, and the structure rebuilt from the inside out.

John the Baptist was that kind of engineer. He stood at the Jordan River and told the religious establishment something they did not want to hear: your credentials do not make you structurally sound. "Do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our ancestor,'" he warned. Heritage was paint on a cracked beam. Temple attendance was traffic flowing over a fracture. What God required was not a fresh coat but an honest inspection — repentance that went all the way down to the steel.

The Pharisees wanted to keep traffic moving. John wanted to save lives.

Every one of us carries hidden fractures — pride, bitterness, self-reliance disguised as faith. The Almighty does not send prophets to admire our paint. He sends them to call us back to the foundation, so that when the Coming One arrives, we are ready to bear the weight of His kingdom.