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Romans 3:23 “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

Think

There’s a gap. You’ve felt it. Maybe you haven’t named it, but you’ve felt it.

It’s the space between who you know you’re supposed to be and who you actually are. It’s the distance between the life you present to the world and the one you live when nobody’s watching. It’s that moment at 2 a.m. when the house is quiet and your thoughts get loud and you think: something isn’t right. Something is missing. Something is broken in a way I can’t fix.

That’s the gap.

The Bible has a word for it. It’s called sin. And before you tune out because you’ve heard that word a thousand times, hear this: sin isn’t just the bad stuff you do. Sin is the distance between you and God. It’s the chasm. It’s the canyon that separates the human side from the divine side. And every single person who has ever lived has stood on the edge of that canyon and looked across and thought: how do I get over there?

That’s where religion comes in.

Since the beginning of time, human beings have been trying to build a bridge from their side to God’s side. They have looked around at creation—the stars, the oceans, the complexity of a single cell—and concluded: there must be a God. And this God must be transcendent. Holy. Powerful. Way beyond anything we are.

And then they have looked inside themselves. They’ve seen the darkness. The selfishness. The greed. The anger. The lust. And they’ve realized: I’m not even close to that kind of holiness. There’s a massive gap between me and the God who made all of this.

So they started building.

Think about it like this. It’s like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon with a pile of two-by-fours and a hammer. You see the other side. It’s beautiful over there. You want to get there. So you start nailing boards together. You work hard. You sweat. You build the best bridge you possibly can. But no matter how hard you try, the canyon is too wide. Your materials aren’t strong enough. Your engineering isn’t good enough. And at some point, your bridge just stops. It hangs out over the void, going nowhere.

That’s religion. Religion is the greatest construction project in human history. It’s mankind putting on a hard hat, grabbing a tool belt, firing up the crane, and trying to build a bridge from the human side to God’s side. And every single religion does it differently. Some try to build with rituals. Some try to build with meditation. Some try to build with good works. Some try to build with strict obedience to a moral code.

Judaism tries to build it with covenants. Islam tries to build it with submission. Buddhism tries to build it with enlightenment. Hinduism tries to build it with detachment. And they’re all sincere. The people building are sincere. But sincerity doesn’t change the fact that the canyon is too wide for any human bridge to reach. You can be sincerely wrong.

The result is always the same. The bridge doesn’t reach.

Here’s the thing: religion isn’t stupid. It correctly identifies the problem. There is a gap. There is a separation. Something is broken between us and God. Religion gets the diagnosis right. But it gets the prescription wrong. Because the prescription of every religion is: try harder. Do more. Be better. Fly straighter. Hum louder. Meditate longer. Donate more.

Did you notice what Paul says in Romans? “All have sinned and fall short.” Not some. Not most. All. Every single one of us. Which means the gap isn’t just for the really bad people. It’s for everyone. The person in prison and the person in the pew. The atheist and the Sunday school teacher. All have sinned. All fall short.

Think about it like this. It’s like trying to swim from California to Hawaii. You can train. You can eat right. You can hire the best coaches. You can have the perfect stroke, the perfect pace, the perfect mindset. And you’re still going to drown. Because the distance is too great. Your strength isn’t enough. It was never going to be enough.

That’s what religion asks you to do. Swim harder. And then when you start sinking, it says: you must not have been swimming hard enough.

But here’s where the story changes. Here’s where Easter matters. Because while you were out there drowning in the middle of the ocean, trying to swim to a destination you could never reach, God saw you. And instead of shouting instructions from the shore, he dove in. He came to you. He built the bridge from his side to yours.

It’s been said that every religion is spelled D-O. Do this. Do that. Do more. But Christianity is spelled D-O-N-E. Done. It’s finished. The bridge has been built. The gap has been closed. Not by your effort. By his sacrifice.

Christianity didn’t start on the human side. It started on God’s side. God looked across the chasm and saw you drowning in your own construction project. And instead of shouting instructions, he sent his son. He sent the architect. He sent the material. He sent the bridge. From his side to yours. That’s the opposite of every religion ever conceived.

That’s the difference. That’s the whole difference. And this week, we’re going to walk through what it means to stop building your own bridge and start walking across the one God already built.

Because the bridge is a cross. And you have a bridge to cross.

Apply

Think about the “bridges” you’ve been building to try to get to God. Maybe it’s being a good person. Maybe it’s going to church. Maybe it’s following rules. Name one thing you’ve been relying on to close the gap between you and God—and admit today that it’s not enough.

Pray

God, I’ve been building. I’ve been working. I’ve been trying to reach you with my own effort and I’m exhausted. I see the gap. I feel the distance. And I’m ready to stop pretending that my construction project is going to get me there. Show me the bridge you built. I’m ready to see it. In Jesus’ name. Amen.