"For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places." ~ Ephesians 6:12
The warrior was tired. More tired than he can ever remember being. He knew that if he didn't get to the castle gates before the sun went down he might not survive the night. You see, he was bleeding but he couldn't figure out from which part of his body that the blood was coming from. There was so much dirt and blood mixed together, along with the pain that really wracked his entire body. If he could just . . . make it . . . to the . . . castle.
The battle had been fierce. But so had many of the battles that he had fought. Many of the battle strategies he had not understood but because the Master Commander had ordered them he followed without question. The warrior knew that the MC's ways were far above his own and that to follow Him meant success. But at this moment he felt like a failure. Too broken down and bleeding to go much farther. All of his efforts had been put into following the orders from the top. At times he would close his eyes, trying to block out the images that haunted him. But this only caused the memories to become more vivid, as if he were re-living the scenes of destruction and carnage over and over again.
Others had followed him into battle only to find their own life in danger. Most of them were encouraged when the battle cry had first come up. They also fought hard not counting their own lives but striving for something far beyond themselves. But as the months and years passed so did the encouragement. Some ran away to find shelter in another part of the kingdom. Some of the warriors died. But the worst of it for this seasoned warrior was when fellow warriors turned traitor seeking their own honor and glory. So, with the emotional turmoil coupled with the physical hardships the warrior had turned towards home, the place of respite.
The castle was positioned on top of the hill. It had been purposely placed there so that all warriors could see it and find their way. It was always lit brightly, that candle on a hill. Above the castle gates a sign read, "Come to me, you who are weary and weighed down; you will find rest here." This is what the warrior needed and hoped for. He knew the battle wasn't over yet but if he could just rest for a bit, get refreshed so that he could go back to the war zone.
His armor needed to be reshaped and cleaned. It smelled of the stench of war; dirt, sweat and blood. It looked much worse than it smelled. The warrior needed his armor. He wasn't the largest of fighters. The fact being that he always wondered why the Master Commander had given him the post in the first place. The warrior was of slight physique. He did not have bulging muscles to make him look impressive like a warrior should. That is why his armor was so important. It made him something that, in himself, he wasn't. The warrior was still learning that his weakness would mean that the MC would be strong. It had been hard for him to grasp ahold of this and, truth be told, still didn't quite understand. But because the MC had said it the warrior believed it and hoped as his training and service to the kingdom progressed he would understand more.
How he longed to be made whole again. His outer garments needed to be cleaned but he also felt that the inside of him needed a good scrubbing too. War had taken chunks out of him and he felt crippled, unable to walk, except with a crutch. The thought of being made whole again is what pushed him forward. He had to reach the castle gate. He just had to. One foot in front of the other, alternately using his shield then his sword to propel him forward. He could see the entrance now and barely see the letters above the door.
That is when they came running out. The sound of the trumpet had blasted through the night air signaling a fallen warrior. The watchman on the tower had seen him struggle to make it to the gate. There was a flurry of activity as the warrior collapsed. Many hands reached to carry him the few yards left to the castle door. His head was swimming now from the loss of blood. But before he lost consciousness he heard over and over again, "Well done, well done, well done." And then all was black.
For the next number of days the warrior came in and out of consciousness. He vaguely remembers warm water on his face, tender words given to him but not comprehended. There were sudden pains as he was being gently moved so that whoever was administering to him could continue the healing process. The warrior could smell the fragrance of an ointment placed on his wounds and also the taste of medicine slowly given to him by mouth. He never saw the faces of those treating him. His eyes still were not focusing and he felt like he was in a dreamy fog. He knew his caretakers were there because as each day passed he could feel his body react to the treatment. It was like an inner light had been place within him causing his body to come to light from the inside out. He started to feel alive again.
The day came when the warrior awoke and his eyes began to focus. He felt somewhat normal which was odd because he hadn't felt that in a long time. As he looked around his room he saw the tools and contraptions that had been used to bring him back to life. He remembers the time that the Master Commander had said, "... whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." Well, the warrior had almost lost his life in the battle but now he was coming to realize that in the fray he had already given it away. You can't lose what doesn't belong to you. Years previous he had pledged his life to the Master Commander and the battle. The understanding of this changed his whole perspective. He felt strangely free, as if he could fly.
It wasn't long after this that the warrior was standing in the courtyard of the MC. His garments had been cleaned again and his wounds had healed. The armor that had been so beaten up and broken was renewed, as if made new. The warrior had gained back his fighting spirit by just being in the MC's presence. Yes, he did have remaining vestiges of the war, many battles that had tried to kill him. But he also new that by the MC's help he could and would run through the troop and leap over whatever wall he needed to.
In the presence of the Master Commander he was cognizant that he was not alone. For there were many others, warriors themselves, who had come back to the castle to be refreshed and renewed. Now they all stood together as one, ready to be deployed, once again back to the war zone. It was different this time than from the first time they had been sent out. There was no fanfare or joking of possible conquests. This time, as you looked at the faces of the warriors, one could see a serious determination. They all knew that some of them would not come back. They knew that they would give their lives to the entirety of the conflict. With each level of battle experience the warriors knew that they were headed for hardship and deprivation. But they also knew that there are some things that are so noble and worthy of their best efforts they must be attempted. Fighting hard, and the possibility of death, would still be a victory because the MC had equipped them for war and had given them the shields that were their salvation.
So they started their march towards the battle. The warriors could hear the cries from the ramparts, "Fight on, fight on." With each step came more resolve; the steps turned into a brisk pace that then turned into running. The MC's banner was flying high along with the warrior's shouts of victory.
May you find strength for the day, hope in His promises, and the courage to face your battles even if you lose in order to gain the victory.
Others had followed him into battle only to find their own life in danger. Most of them were encouraged when the battle cry had first come up. They also fought hard not counting their own lives but striving for something far beyond themselves. But as the months and years passed so did the encouragement. Some ran away to find shelter in another part of the kingdom. Some of the warriors died. But the worst of it for this seasoned warrior was when fellow warriors turned traitor seeking their own honor and glory. So, with the emotional turmoil coupled with the physical hardships the warrior had turned towards home, the place of respite.
The castle was positioned on top of the hill. It had been purposely placed there so that all warriors could see it and find their way. It was always lit brightly, that candle on a hill. Above the castle gates a sign read, "Come to me, you who are weary and weighed down; you will find rest here." This is what the warrior needed and hoped for. He knew the battle wasn't over yet but if he could just rest for a bit, get refreshed so that he could go back to the war zone.
His armor needed to be reshaped and cleaned. It smelled of the stench of war; dirt, sweat and blood. It looked much worse than it smelled. The warrior needed his armor. He wasn't the largest of fighters. The fact being that he always wondered why the Master Commander had given him the post in the first place. The warrior was of slight physique. He did not have bulging muscles to make him look impressive like a warrior should. That is why his armor was so important. It made him something that, in himself, he wasn't. The warrior was still learning that his weakness would mean that the MC would be strong. It had been hard for him to grasp ahold of this and, truth be told, still didn't quite understand. But because the MC had said it the warrior believed it and hoped as his training and service to the kingdom progressed he would understand more.
How he longed to be made whole again. His outer garments needed to be cleaned but he also felt that the inside of him needed a good scrubbing too. War had taken chunks out of him and he felt crippled, unable to walk, except with a crutch. The thought of being made whole again is what pushed him forward. He had to reach the castle gate. He just had to. One foot in front of the other, alternately using his shield then his sword to propel him forward. He could see the entrance now and barely see the letters above the door.
That is when they came running out. The sound of the trumpet had blasted through the night air signaling a fallen warrior. The watchman on the tower had seen him struggle to make it to the gate. There was a flurry of activity as the warrior collapsed. Many hands reached to carry him the few yards left to the castle door. His head was swimming now from the loss of blood. But before he lost consciousness he heard over and over again, "Well done, well done, well done." And then all was black.
For the next number of days the warrior came in and out of consciousness. He vaguely remembers warm water on his face, tender words given to him but not comprehended. There were sudden pains as he was being gently moved so that whoever was administering to him could continue the healing process. The warrior could smell the fragrance of an ointment placed on his wounds and also the taste of medicine slowly given to him by mouth. He never saw the faces of those treating him. His eyes still were not focusing and he felt like he was in a dreamy fog. He knew his caretakers were there because as each day passed he could feel his body react to the treatment. It was like an inner light had been place within him causing his body to come to light from the inside out. He started to feel alive again.
The day came when the warrior awoke and his eyes began to focus. He felt somewhat normal which was odd because he hadn't felt that in a long time. As he looked around his room he saw the tools and contraptions that had been used to bring him back to life. He remembers the time that the Master Commander had said, "... whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." Well, the warrior had almost lost his life in the battle but now he was coming to realize that in the fray he had already given it away. You can't lose what doesn't belong to you. Years previous he had pledged his life to the Master Commander and the battle. The understanding of this changed his whole perspective. He felt strangely free, as if he could fly.
It wasn't long after this that the warrior was standing in the courtyard of the MC. His garments had been cleaned again and his wounds had healed. The armor that had been so beaten up and broken was renewed, as if made new. The warrior had gained back his fighting spirit by just being in the MC's presence. Yes, he did have remaining vestiges of the war, many battles that had tried to kill him. But he also new that by the MC's help he could and would run through the troop and leap over whatever wall he needed to.
In the presence of the Master Commander he was cognizant that he was not alone. For there were many others, warriors themselves, who had come back to the castle to be refreshed and renewed. Now they all stood together as one, ready to be deployed, once again back to the war zone. It was different this time than from the first time they had been sent out. There was no fanfare or joking of possible conquests. This time, as you looked at the faces of the warriors, one could see a serious determination. They all knew that some of them would not come back. They knew that they would give their lives to the entirety of the conflict. With each level of battle experience the warriors knew that they were headed for hardship and deprivation. But they also knew that there are some things that are so noble and worthy of their best efforts they must be attempted. Fighting hard, and the possibility of death, would still be a victory because the MC had equipped them for war and had given them the shields that were their salvation.
So they started their march towards the battle. The warriors could hear the cries from the ramparts, "Fight on, fight on." With each step came more resolve; the steps turned into a brisk pace that then turned into running. The MC's banner was flying high along with the warrior's shouts of victory.
"For it is you who light my lamp; the Lord my God lightens my darkness. For by you I can run against a troop, and by my God I can leap over a wall. This God -- his way is perfect, the word of the Lord proves true; he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him. For who is God, but the Lord? And who is a rock, except our God? -- the God who equipped me with strength and made my way blameless. He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights. He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze. You have given me the shield of your salvation, and your right hand supported me, and your gentleness made me great."
~ Psalm 18:28-35
"For you equipped me with strength for the battle."
~ Psalm 18:39
May you find strength for the day, hope in His promises, and the courage to face your battles even if you lose in order to gain the victory.
Amen and amen and amen! Great stuff!
ReplyDeleteThank you for speaking to my heart. There is a warrior in each of us. I was taken away, comparing myself to this warrior. I am in that place of rest, but not for long. I have been being ministered to, equipped and refreshed. Your words are gripping and inspiring. You take me to a place where I am right there in the world emotionally participating, preparing my heart for what my MC has for me. Thanks, Judy. I look forward for your next entry.
ReplyDeleteKelly
Excellent thoughts...are you planning a book? ~Diana
ReplyDeleteVery nice, Judy! And good words for my morning, & my week, & my fall. . . . ..wish you were here to eat pumpkin scones with the Miss Nine years old & I today.
ReplyDelete