The right path rarely is the easiest, and yet in the end it is worth the sweat and toil.”
–Chris Bennett (Insurrection)
“I have fought the good (worthy, honorable, and noble) fight, I have finished the race, I have kept (firmly held) the faith.”
–2 Timothy 4:7 (Amplified)
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Veterans’ Day — “All gave some, some gave all.”
No, I am not going away from my traditional Veterans Day note, but I want you to think of something else–another type of veteran. I’ve been reading the works of many of the earlier writers, saintly men who have gone on before. Then there are the Reformers and the early Church fathers. Add to that the men and women who I have had contact
either through being in their services or hearing their sermons. There are those mentioned in Hebrews 11, men of faith. Finally, there are those of you reading this. These are all veterans of the battles against the enemy of their soul here on earth. They fought the good fight, often receiving scars. However hard the battle, they fought on and gained the victory.
Below are the second and third verses of a hymn we sang last Sunday in church. What a message! It was written by John H. Yates in 1891 with music by Ira Sankey. Ponder the words…
His banner over us is love,
Our sword the Word of God;
We tread the road the saints above,
With shouts of triumph trod.
By faith they, like a whirl-wind’s breath,
Swept on o’er ev’ry field;
The faith by which they conquered death
Is till our shining shield.
On ev’ry hand the foe we find
Drawn up in dread array;
Let tents of ease be left behind,
And onward to the fray;
Salvation’s helmet on each head,
With truth all girt about,
The earth shall tremble ‘neath our tread,
And echo with our shout.
Faith is the victory!
Faith is the victory!
O, glorious victory,
That overcomes the world.
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In Flanders Fields
(John McCrae)
In Flanders Fields, the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.