How cheap are the principles for which we do not have to fight, how easy it is to establish codes when all the while our freedom to talk had been fought for and bled for by others.”
–Louis L’Amour (North to the Rails)
“Then all his disciples deserted him and ran away.”
–Mark 14:50 (NLT)
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In the Book of Colossians, Paul writes that Luke and Demas greet you (4:14) and then in the last letter written by Paul, one of the saddest commentaries is to be found, “for Demas has forsaken me, having loved this present world…” (2 Timothy 4:10, NKJV).
Here is a person who has known the Lord, has traveled with Paul to present the Gospel and now–he left Paul because of his love for the world. Desertion! Paul disliked deserters. When Barnabas wanted to take John Mark with them on their second journey Paul was adamant in his decision of “NO!” He didn’t go as far as to say that John Mark had left the faith, but he wasn’t doing his duty while traveling with them and thus had “deserted” the mission.
Talk is cheap! Desertion is rampant. When the word comes up, our first thoughts go to soldiers in the time of war. Men who swore an oath, now leave their post, shirk their duty and run away. However, the more rampant kind of desertion if that of a spouse, usually the husband. There can be desertion at home, career-minded parents often desert the needs of their children; deadbeat fathers are present but are not truly “dads”. What is abortion if not desertion? Desertion causes us to have feelings of disgust for desertion speaks of failure in the face of challenge. Consider the following:
“And whoever does not bear his cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not sit down first and count the cost, whether he has enough to finish it—lest, after he has laid the foundation, and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him.”
–Luke 14:27-29 (NKJV)
In any endeavor we are told to count the cost. This is speaking of military, home, marriage, career–count the cost. I get so sick of college creampuffs whining about how much they owe in their college debt. True, the cost is out of sight, but–count the cost. They knew their financial responsibility upon taking out the loans, now they want to get out of repayment–desertion to their responsibility.
I like what Mort Crim wrote several years back.
“Desertion is a detestable word. It suggests courage defeated by cowardice, fidelity fallen victim to fear… Desertion is the ultimate dereliction of duty. It is not always premeditated; often it is a reaction to some immediate threat… Devotion is costly. But so is desertion. To desert a person or a principle can destroy self-respect and bring spiritual death to the deserter.”
Yes, there is a cost, a high cost to being a disciple. There is a cost of devotion, but when the duty is fulfilled, ah, the joy that it brings to the soul. There is fulfillment. The cost of desertion is the opposite. The person becomes scorned, their name is recorded and they are shunned.
Two things in closing: remain true in your devotion. Stay devoted to the cause so the words will ring out when that final day comes, “well done, good and faithful servant.” Second, look at Jesus. He is the supreme example of devotion. When the disciples fled, He remained obedient to His mission and true to them. Jesus took on the cross, He became sin–He never deserted the will of the Father or the mission set before Him.
Month: February 2020
The Saga of Miles Forrest
Miles, didn’t you hear it? It sounded like a wounded catamount, only more like a laugh than a howl,” swore Blasco.
I reached down to help his stand and said, “That’s the Pale Rider–Death.”
“Pale Rider? Death? What in tarnation are you talking about?” he exclaimed.
The town marshal was only a few feet from us now. His gun had been lowered, but when Blasco and I started talking to each other he raised it. “You both are under arrest!” he snapped.
“Marshal, you’re crazy!” replied Jens. “We’re both U.S. Marshals, you have no jurisdiction over us especially since we were carrying out lawful arrests.”
He spat on the ground, arrogance oozing from him. “We’ll let the judge decide that in the morning. All I see is five dead men laying in the dirt.”
“No, it’s decided now!” I barked raising the Greener and cocking the hammers. The sound of those hammers being cocked made him jump. I was sure glad that reaction didn’t cause him to pull the trigger. “You can holster your gun, or drop it on the ground, or you can lift it an inch higher causing me to cut loose with both barrels. Your choice.”
“I have warrants for Frank Reston and his gang and they have just been served,” stated Blasco. “I can add you to the list.”
He gave us a sour look, but decided to holster his pistol. Jens looked at the marshal, “I need two things right now: a telegraph office and a doctor.”
The marshal hesitated for a moment then pointing. “The telegraph office is in that building right there. Come on.”
With that we started off behind him. Jens was struggling but he hobbled along with me helping. I had used my bandana to tie over the wound, but it was still bleeding. The bullet didn’t go into his leg, but cut a groove across the top; it definitely needed patching up.
Jens wrote out his telegram and handed it to the operator who glanced over at the town marshal. I saw a nod. He began to work the keys when Jens bounded up, took a couple of quick steps, and had his gun in the ear of the operator quick as a blink.
“You send what I wrote,” he barked. “I understand how the keys talk.”
He looked over at me, the exertion and loss of blood making him look mighty pale. “Miles, help me,” he cried as he leaned back over the counter.
I came to him, and he muttered, “Up on the counter, I need to lie down before I fall down.” I helped boost him up on the counter where he could stretch out and lay flat. “I hear one false word being sent I’ll send a bullet through your head,” he said mustering his strength.
“Who’d you send the telegram to?” I asked.
“U.S. Marshal for the territory in Santa Fe, Felix Wilcox. Hopefully, he’ll or Martin will be hear soon,” he said closing his eyes.
Looking over at the marshal, I asked, “Where is that doctor?” He had sent a errand boy after him when we entered the office.
I felt Jens pull at my sleeve and murmur, “Miles, who is the Pale Rider? You said ‘Death’. Does that mean I’m going to die?”
His eyes were open, barely. “No, it doesn’t mean you’re goin’ to die. Death is one of the Four Horsemen of Judgement in the Book of Revelation. He rode on a Pale Horse,” I paused to think of what I wanted to say. “For some reason I have been given the ability to see him, or an illusion of him. He sorta stalks my trail.”
He looked at me, eyes wide open now. “Is he stalking me?”
“He’s a devil-worker. He’s after anyone and everyone,” I saw that the marshal was listening to me, “includin’ you marshal.” He gave a little jerk. “You don’t have nothin’ to fear if you know Jesus Christ.”
“But I. . .”
Echoes From the Campfire
Our hearts were beating together, our blood pulsing together, our faces touched by the gentle hand of the same wind.”
–Louis L’Amour (Silver Canyon)
“I am my beloved’s, And his desire is for me.”
–Song of Solomon 7:10(NASB)
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Along this trail called “LIFE” there is a time when a person comes across what is known as “love.” We have some foolish notions about this thing called love: folks fall in and out of love, vows made to each other don’t mean much any more, yet they should be the things that bind two people together. Couples make prenuptial agreements, a contract, just in case. They have a written contract that is more binding than the vows at the altar–crazy.
Last Friday was a day of flowers, chocolates, and candlelight dinners, and pity the poor man who forgets any of those. Then I look at them, and I say if those things represent love we are a poor person. Yet, there are things that have become symbols of love. However, it is a real shame if the only time of the year you bring your sweetie flowers or sweets is on Valentines.
Sure there is young love, what might be called “romantic love,” the love of the heart palpitating with those giddy thoughts toward the person who is loved. But what is more important than flowers or chocolate is what is expressed above–“hearts beating together” as one for in truth the marriage represents that two have indeed become one.
A man wants a woman’s hand to hold as they go through the trials of life. He wants a soothing hand to cool his feverish brow; he wants soft hands to hold and nurture their children; he wants capable hands to work accomplishing the daily chores of life. Ah, but society and modern culture is trying to change all of this.
Perhaps the days are gone when a man was a man and women were glad of it. “Where is my feminine side”? Right here next to me; part of me for we are one. I have been truly blest that it was this time of year back in 1970 that I found the gal for me. Yes, for sure, the Lord was plenty good to me.
Coffee Percs
He poured himself another cup of coffee and leaned back. His face was real thoughtful looking.”
–Tell Cotton (Confessions of a Gunfighter)
Come in here, Pard. Say, what’s that lump alongside yur head? Yuh didn’t forget yur sweet-thing on Valentines? Forget to check yur cinch? Well, be tellin’ me while I pour the coffee. What? She thumped yuh with a skillet for spoutin’ poetry right from the Good Book.
Let me get this right. Yuh were readin’ from that wise ol’ sage Solomon and she didn’t like what yuh were sayin’? Do tell. “To me, my darling, you are like my mare among the chariots of Pharaoh.” Ha, ha, yuh dummy. In this modern an’ enlightened society yuh can’t be comparin’ a woman to yur favorite horse. Now, I’ll agree that some of them high falutin’ folk bray more like a donkey and… Well, leave it at that. Take a drink of ol’ Ira’s coffee, it might not help the knot on yur head, but will sooth the gizzard.
Look around yuh, Pard. Society is not like it used to be, when man attempted to be guided by the Word of God. It sure looks to be that we are now livin’ in that time that Paul wrote about, “God gave them over to a depraved mind, to do those things which are not proper.” People used to shun them, not givin’ much ado about them, but now society seems to approve of their despicable actions.
Sorry, didn’t mean to put a damper on yur Saturday. Yuh better go apologize to yur wife, but yuh best be chosin’ yur words carefully. Yuh can take a thermos of my coffee to appease her. No, yuh think best not as she might hit yuh over the noggin’ with it. Ha, ain’t yuh the funny one. At least, check yur cinch when yuh mount; yuh can’t afford to have a knot on the other side of yur hat-holder.