BURNING BRIDGES
MY WORST PROFESSOR
Boring. That’s honestly the kindest word I can use for one professor I had for multiple classes during my undergrad years. He had been teaching forever, was safely tenured, and somewhere along the way had simply stopped trying. It appeared he never prepped. Just the same material he had been recycling since the Cold War. Literally. Maybe he was sharp once, but by the time I was paying good money to learn, he was just showing up, clocking in, and cashing a check.
I hate having my time wasted, and here I was paying someone to waste it for me. As I sat in his classes, aggravation slowly hardened into anger. Nineteen-year-old me wanted to stand up and “tell him off,” call him a has-been to his face, and suggest he retire.
But I never said any of it. I had only been a Christian a couple of years, and even then, I knew I didn’t want to become the kind of person who burns bridges. As much as I wanted to unload, I didn’t. I showed up. I did the work. I stayed respectful. I even offered a few kind suggestions that went nowhere. And eventually, I finished my final class with him.
Jump forward two years. I’m twenty-one, married, living in a one-car garage someone converted into a “house”, and I have no money to return to college. So I applied for a full-time staff position at the university.
In the interview, the VP of Operations smiled and said, “My husband knows you.”
“Oh, cool,” I replied. “What’s his name?”
“Mr. ________,” she said.
That’s when I noticed the nameplate on her desk had the same last name as the professor I had been dying to tell off two years earlier. She was his wife!
Before my panic could climb from my chest to my face, she added, “He told me you were always very respectful, funny, and turned your work in on time.”
And right there, in that tiny office, it hit me: that’s why you never burn relational bridges.
NOT BURNING BRIDGES
We don’t think about bridges until we’re standing at the edge of one we wish we hadn’t burned. Just picture the regret I would have carried at twenty-one if I had told that professor off at nineteen.
Choosing not to burn a bridge doesn’t mean you’re pretending someone’s behavior was good. It simply means you’re choosing the path that keeps redemption possible and protects your future integrity.
Anybody can torch a relationship on the way out. That’s the easy part—drop a verbal grenade, light a slow-burning fire of passive-aggressiveness, and walk away like you’re making a point. But maturity knows how to exit without losing yourself in the moment, how to step away without setting everything on fire, and how to leave space for the future.
People change. Sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better. Have healthy boundaries, especially with toxic people. But leave hope open for the possibility of their growth.
A healthy boundary limits their access to your life while they are being toxic. Not burning the bridge leaves open the possibility of their repentance and reconciliation in the future.
The boundary is about who they are currently being.
Not burning the bridge is about who you are becoming.
One protects your present safety.
The other reflects the redemptive way of Jesus.
Circumstances change. The person who frustrates you in one season of life’s circumstances might be the same person who speaks well of you in the next (especially if you didn’t leave a burning bag of garbage in the middle of the bridge).
Bitterness Grows. Burning a bridge never does what you think it will. It feels powerful for about ten minutes. Then bitterness sets in, and now you’ve got two problems instead of one. Keeping the bridge intact keeps your heart from calcifying.
It matters in professional life, too. Networks are small. Industries loop back on themselves. The world has a funny way of reconnecting you with people you thought were gone for good. A burned bridge often becomes a missed opportunity later.
FUTURE REDEMPTION
But more than any of that, never burning a relational bridge is a posture towards people that reflects the way of Jesus. I had learned that at 19 in my couple of years as a Christian. That’s precisely why I didn’t tell off that professor. Grace doesn’t pretend everything is fine. Grace just refuses to burn the bridge. It steps back without blowing things up, allowing for distance without destroying the possibility of redemption.
So yes, sometimes you walk away or limit access. In other, more serious situations, you may take them to small claims court for accountability or prosecute them for justice. But don’t burn the bridge. Keep the bridge standing, not because the other person deserves it, but because you leave the future open for redeemed relationships.
THE END OF MY LITTLE STORY
I got the job. I finished my bachelor's degree for free over the next 9 years through tuition remission. And his wife turned out to be the best boss and work-life mentor I have ever had. Anyone who has ever been on the receiving end of my follow-through, my attention to detail, or my clarity in leadership… she shaped all of that in me from ages nineteen to twenty-seven. The wife of the worst professor I ever had. The man I wanted to tell off, but didn’t.
And I’m grateful. Because it turns out the bridge I didn’t burn ended up being a financial lifeline and mentoring benefit for me.
For biblical support of the lessons in this article, see the story of Joseph and his brothers in Genesis 37–50, and the story of Peter and Jesus in Luke 22:54–62, together with John 21:15–19.
