I am A Soldier in the LORD's Army

If every pastor had just a few more soldiers with this attitude and commitment, it would sure help make ministering to those with true needs a lot easier! Thanks to all who fight the good fight of faith.

I am a Soldier...

I am a soldier in the army of my God.
The Lord Jesus Christ is my Commanding Officer.
The Holy Bible is my code of conduct.
Faith, prayer and the Word are my weapons of warfare.
I have been taught by the Holy Spirit,
Trained by experience,
Tried by adversity,
And tested by fire.

I am a volunteer in this Army,
And I am enlisted for eternity.
I will not get out,
Sell out,
Be talked out,
Or pushed out.

I am faithful,
Reliable,
Capable,
And dependable.

If my God needs me, I am there.

I am not a baby.
I do not need to be pampered,
Petted, Primed up, Pumped up,
Picked up or pepped up.
I am a soldier.

I am not a wimp.
I am in place,
Saluting my King,
Obeying His orders,
Praising His name,
And building His kingdom!

No one has to send me flowers,
Gifts, food, cards or candy.
I do not need to be cuddled,
Cradled,
Cared for, or catered to.
I am committed.

I cannot have my feelings hurt bad enough to turn me around.
I cannot be discouraged enough to turn me aside.
I cannot lose enough to cause me to quit.

When Jesus called me into His Army I had nothing.
If I end up with nothing, I will still come out ahead.
I will win.

My God has and will continue
To supply all of my needs.
I am more than a conqueror.
I will always triumph.
I can do all things through Christ.

Devils cannot defeat me.
People cannot disillusion me.
Weather cannot weary me.
Sickness cannot stop me.
Battles cannot beat me.
Money cannot buy me.
Governments cannot silence me.
And Hell cannot handle me.
I am a soldier.

Even death cannot destroy me.
For when my Commander
Calls me from this battlefield,
He will promote me to Captain
And then allow me to rule with Him.
I am a soldier in the Army,
And I’m claiming victory.

I will not give up.
I will not turn around.
I am a soldier,
Marching Heaven bound.

Author Unknown

Afraid? Of What?

Jack Vinson was a missionary to China. In 1931 he was taken hostage by bandits. Eventually they were surrounded by government troops and the bandits tried to shoot their way out. Many died in the process; Vinson was shot and beheaded by his captors. BUT, before he died this conversation, between Vinson and one of the bandits, was overheard by another hostage.

It went like this...
"I'm going to kill you. Aren't you afraid?" said the bandit.
"Kill me, if you wish. I will go straight to God." Vinson replied.

After hearing of his friend's courage EH Hamilton wrote this poem for others facing troubled and difficult times. 

Afraid? Of What?

To feel the spirit's glad release?

To pass from pain to perfect peace,

The strife and strain of life to cease?

Afraid--of that?

Afraid--Of What?

Afraid to see the Savior's face

To hear His welcome, and to trace

The glory gleam from wounds of grace?

Afraid--of that?

Afraid? Of What?

A flash, a crash, a pierced heart;

Darkness, light, O Heaven's art!

A wound of His a counterpart!

Afraid--of that?

Afraid? Of What?

To do by death what life could not--

Baptize with blood a stony plot,

Till souls shall blossom from the spot?

Afraid--of that?

~E. H. Hamilton  By Their Blood

Sea Monsters, Dragons, Magicians and Spies...

Sea monsters, dragons, magicians and spies!

Riddles and mystery! Intrigue and surprise!

Heroes and villans and giants and midgets,

Palaces, dungeons and madmen and witches!

Kings, queens and emperors, wise men and fools,

Miracles, plagues, hidden treasures and jewels!

Angels and demons, rebellion and war,

Deception, disaster and mayhem and gore!

Time travel! Romance! Adventure! Betrayal!

Freedom from slavery! Escaping from jail!

Soldiers and warriors and healers and saints,

And poems of thanksgiving, praise and complaint!

Partying prophets and killers who preach,

Fish who eat people! Donkeys that teach!

Ship wreaks and journeys and blessings to give,

And the world's greatest Superhero ever to live!

Author of Poem: Unknown; Author of Book: Known and Revered

Weavings

Weavings

They say the layered earth rose up
Ancient rock leviathan
Trailing ages in its wake
Lifting earth mass toward the sun
And coursing water cut the rock away
To leave these many-storied walls
Exposé of ages gone
Around this breathless emptiness
More wondrous far than earth has ever known.

My life has risen layered too
Each day, each year in turn has left
Its fossil life and sediments
Evidence of lived and unlived hours
The tedium, the anguish, yes the joy
That some heart-deep vitality
Keeps pressing upward toward the day I die.

And Spirit cuts like water through it all
Carving out this emptiness
So inner eye can see
The soaring height of canyon walls within
Walls whose very color, texture, form
Redeem in beauty all my life has been
The darkness and the light, the false, the true
While deep below the living waters run
Cutting deeper through my parts
To resurrect my grave bound heart.
Making, always making, all things new.

—Parker J. Palmer, in The Weavings Reader

Gethsemane

Gethsemane

Down shadowy lanes,

across strange streams

Bridged over by our broken dreams;

Behind the misty caps of years,

Beyond the great salt fount of tears,

The garden lies. Strive as you may,

You cannot miss it in your way.

All paths that have been, or shall be,

Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.

All those who journey, soon or late,

Must pass within the garden’s gate;

Must kneel alone in darkness there,

And battle with some fierce despair.

God pity those who cannot say,

‘Not mine but thine,’ who only pray,

‘Let this cup pass,’ and cannot see

The purpose in Gethsemane.

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I Cannot Dance...

I Cannot Dance

I cannot dance, Lord,
unless you lead me.
If you want me to leap with abandon,
You must intone the song.
Then I shall leap into love,
From love into knowledge,
From knowledge into enjoyment,
And from enjoyment beyond all human sensations.
There I want to remain, yet want also to circle higher still.

Mechthild of Magdeburg

No Other Way?

No Other Way?

Is there no other way, O God,

Except through sorrow, pain, or loss,

To stamp Christ's likeness on my soul -

No other way except the cross?

Through eyes grown dim with falling tears,

In vain some other path I seek;

"The cross is heavy, Lord," I pray,

"So heavy, and I am so weak."

"I cannot drink this bitter cup,"

I plead with passionate protest;

"Lord, let it pass - Thy hand lies hard

Upon me - I am sore distressed."

And then a voice stills all my soul,

As stilled the waves on Galilee;

"Canst thou not bear the furnace heat,

If 'mid the flames I walk with thee?"

"I bore the cross, I know its weight,

I drank the cup I hold for thee;

Canst thou not follow where I lead?

I'll give thee strength - lean thou on me."

And then with sudden shame, I fall

Low at His blessed, pierced feet,

"Lord, teach me how to follow Thee,

And make me for Thy service meet."

"I am not worthy e'en to lift

Thy hallowed cross - Thy pain to share;

Perfect through suffering, if Thou wilt,

So I at last Thy image bear."

--Author Unknown