Dragging my Sword

The heat of battle had died down long ago, and, exhausted, I stopped by the wayside just to catch my breath. How the sun beat with ferocious heat - how the saving links of my armor seemed now all but chains. Miles, hundreds of trodden miles lay behind - miles spent in the thick of warfare. Oh, how proudly had I wielded my royal shield; brandished high the magnificent sword of old, marked with the unchanging emblem of the great King. Many battles had I fought in his service, sacrificing life itself in his war.

Yet oh how the days, the months, the years had passed - so slowly. How many hours spent in seemingly wasted watchfulness, unfulfilled days upon end. The glory days of my triumphs were all but forgotten, many of my companions lost and spent in battle. My proud shoulders sagged low under the weight of cast iron; my knees bent against my will beneath me. I stepped just outside of the ranks of my countrymen to rest a moment.

Just a moment! And yet - slowly - I grew more conscious of thirst and my own deadly exhaustion. Oh, for even a small drink of water; for a few moments of rest.

As I struggled for breath, for strength to go on, I noted a broad, open path diverging from the road of battle. Tall shade trees lined the pleasant walk, and faintly, just down the road apiece, my delighted ears met the sound of flowing water. A cool breeze blew in from the east, caressing my battle-worn face with the promise of rest.

I was beckoned.

Only a moment's hesitation met me then: I looked back, back at the never-ending lines of fellow soldiers stretching to the horizon without end. Forward, forward, forward, always forward, without looking to left or right... without turning. Without compromise - wisdom called to me. Do not stray! Listen.

I had listened long enough.

My countenance newly illuminated, I tread with alactrity further, further, down the inviting broad path, spurred on by the never ending desire for temporary rest.
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Hours passed, and alluring invitation led finally to cruel torment. A painted mirage had fooled my tired eyes, and upon this broad path beat a terrible sun, the sand beneath hardened by thousands of the former deceived. Many miles behind I had shed the weighty breastplate that covered my weakness... beside it my precious helmet, now far too heavy and ultimately worthless to me. My feet uncovered, I no longer ran - my weakness ravaged and displayed. All now left was my dragging sword.

Suddenly the sound of water again reached my thirsty ears, and, with regathered alacrity, I stumbled forward, towards it - reaching wildly with my one free hand, my eyes blinded and aching. Sound became sudden sight, and forward I ran to awaiting stream. I knelt beside it, cupped my hands, and brought them up eagerly to dry and cracked lips. The water, at first cool and refreshing, was bitter reek in my mouth, and I spat it back into the poisoned stream from whence it came. Desperately I raised eyes and fist to curse the heavens and suddenly froze.

I was surrounded. Surrounded by the dread archers of the enemy, made captive by my own dreadful thirst, victim of my own unquenchable desire. I lowered my head and hands before them in surrender.

It seemed days and silence continued. A sound of retreat then; troubled voices; rushing feet. All was then still. Silence. The air hung heavy with anticipation; I could hear my own heart beat.

Ever so slowly I raised my eyes, uncertain. My life hung in the balance of this one look.

There before me, in all his majesty, stood the great King himself.

Surely this was my end.

I fell face down before him. "My Lord!" I cried in my despair. "Forgive me! I have sinned before you and was led astray. And yet my strength is sapped; I cannot seem to go on. I am overcome.

My Lord, what must I do?"

"Do no more on your own," the great voice replied. "Strive for yourself no more. Have you so quickly forgotten your anchor? You faint with the weight of your own determination. Look up! Take up thy cross and follow me - and then, in me ... you will rest." _______________________________________


2 Corinthians 4:7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; stuck down, but not destroyed. 5:7 We live by faith, not by sight.

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In the Secret of His Presence
by Sandra McCracken

In the secret of His presence
How my soul delights to hide
Oh how precious are the lessons
That I learn at Jesus' side

Earthly cares forever vex me
All my trials lay me low
But when Satan comes to tempt me
To that secret place I go -
To that secret place I go.

When my soul is faint and thirsty
'Neath the shadow of Your wings
There is cool and pleasant shelter
And a fresh and crystal spring

And my Savior rests beside me
As we share communion sweet
If I tried I could not utter
What He says when thus we meet;
What He says when thus we meet.

Only this I know; I tell Him
All my doubts, my griefs, my fears
Oh, how patiently He listens
And my sorrowed soul He cheers

Dare you think he ne'er reproves me
What a false friend He would be
If He never, ever told me
Of the sin which He must see -
Of the sin which He must see.

Would you like to know the sweetness
Of the secret of the Lord?
Go and hide beneath His shadow
And this shall then be your reward...

And whene'er you leave the silence
Of that happy meeting place
You will surely bear the image
Of the Master in your face;
Of the Master in your face.