“Endure hardship”,
Paul said,
“as a good soldier”.
But the cross
is weighing heavily on me.
I feel the chafe of its splinters.
The battle is fierce.
People are stumbling
right and left;
friends,
loved ones,
limping,
halting,
turning back.
And the enemy is
organised,
relentless,
cunning.
I look for happiness,
amidst the rubble,
and close my ears to the
cries of those around me.
Finding comfort
in the soft clothes of
self-indulgence,
self-will,
apathy.
But He is urging me
to lay them aside and
put on
the heavy armour
of sacrifice,
obedience,
and faithfulness.
My Captain shows me that a sitting soldier,
cannot carry her instrument of crucifixion.
Wage war from the sidelines.
Conquer the foe she has embraced.
I’m reminded that He
endured the cross,
for joy that was yet to come.
But I’d prefer joy
without the cross:
Peace without conflict.
Comfort without cost.
I want happiness here and now,
and later.
Only a glimpse of eternity
can revive me from the
shell-shock.
A vision of what has already
been accomplished,
and the celebration that will follow.
The realisation that my Conqueror
and Rescuer,
has gone ahead
to pave the way for my return,
preparing rest for the weary,
reward for the wounded,
crowns for the faithful.
And so,
hourly,
back and forth,
the battle rages
within my heart:
Doubt versus faith.
Anxiety versus confidence.
Who I am versus who I want to be.
So, I must run.
Keeping my eyes fixed
on something I have not
yet obtained.
But pressing,
pushing on.
Laying down
my stubborn will,
my prideful bent,
my unrighteous expectations,
my selfish desires,
my short-lived comforts,
my long-cherished idols.
Taking up
the shield,
the helmet,
and the sword,
instead.
And fighting the good fight,
for the lasting joy,
the Victor’s peace,
the Conqueror’s rest,
that can
only
follow battle.
