A Fresh Arrow to a Comfortable Soul

'We are so utterly ordinary, so commonplace, while we profess to know a Power the Twenty- (FIRST) century does not reckon with. But we are 'harmless', and therefore unharmed. We are spiritual pacifists, non-militants, conscientious objectors in this battle-to-the-death with principalities and powers in high places. Meekness must be had for contact with men, but brass, outspoken boldness is required to take part in the comradeship of the Cross. We are 'sideliners' - coaching and criticizing the real wrestlers while content to sit by and leave the enemies of God unchallenged. The world cannot hate us; we are too much like its own. Oh, that God would make us DANGEROUS!'

~ Jim Elliot

Notes From the Thick of Battle

You said the straight and narrow
But this road's crooked; broad.
Whispers I heard of peace...
All this naught but untrue and odd.

I must say how mortally tired I am
Of trying to find You here
Where once I did see remnants
I wade in poisoned pools of fear.

Earthly lovers seem to fade
As wanted as they're true
And all I hope: to catch anew
To catch for me a glimpse of you.

I once was so verbose
And now I have no tongue.
Songs and rhymes -
Now hardened times -
Undefined and still unsung.

You used to give me words -
Ah! How we used to play
'Cross meadows of song and consciousness
From falling night till day.

My rhymes are now gone.

And that train! That train!
That ghastly, that condemned train!
Condemned to be running through my head
To be green grass and sinking lead -
The ghost of futures yet untold
(And damn my fickle heart: it's sold)
To whistle tunes that I can't play -
Can't seem to keep these wolves at bay -
Are they his? Or are they Thine?
Or are they all invention mine?

The barriers you once put up he's now torn down.
Or was it me?
(He and I look an awful lot alike these days.)
Potential's all that's left of me.

Hellish lovers seem to fade
As wanted as they're true.
And all I hope; to catch anew
To catch for me a glimpse of You.

Found and founded:
The things I miss most.
Oh for when peace was somehow my boast.