The Soldier

The soldier huddled against the broken wall of an abandoned building. Hehad long since forgotten how he enjoyed the taste of decent food or even thetaste of a drop of water. Yet in his heart, he knew it was far better to bealone in the field than to be in the prison camp's hell. Howlong had he been here? He had lost all sense of time. One day merged intothe next. How long before relief would come?

Every imagination brought a sickening, tense sense of regret, his reality, to life. War.

The sound of rain splashed against the rocks at his feet. Thesoldier wondered how long had it been raining before he realized it. He nowfound himself soaking wet. He quickly cupped his hand to catch some of theprecious liquid. How glorious the taste. He enjoyed it as if for the for the first time. "Careful," he thought. "You never know where the enemy might be."

Cautiously, he removed his weapon from its perch. "Keep it ready, at hand. Don't let your guard down now." At least, not while it was light and visibility was good.

How long would he remain safe if he were cautious? Even withall his care, it would take more than he could do to keep himself safe. Itwould take a higher power. He thought of all the times he had failed in life,all the times he had let God down. All the mistakes he had made flooded hisconsciousness. He didn't deserve special treatment. Yet from somewhere in hisheart, God gently reminded him of grace.

Grace, a reward for services unrendered... a mystery power, a gift.

Grace is given when we try our best and fail, when we are at our worst, perhaps not even trying. All we have to do is ask. How much power we have in our mouth. The soldier licked his lips. "God keep me safe!" He realized he had spoken aloud. Yet, he had to say it out loud to make it words, right? He mouthed it again, quietly. "God, keep me safe. God is keeping me safe." Hechanged it.

He tried to remember why he was fighting; to keep the peace, to keep hisfamily free of the curses of evil times, and to make a better life forhimself. "Keep going," he thought. "Keep alert."

"How bad are my wounds?" He now focused his attention on the batteredbody that was his spirit's home. It was amazing he was still alive. Thebody... so fragile yet so strong. The tiniest force in the right spot wouldstop it, yet it could withstand and survive such serious trauma as this soldier had sustained. "With some time and care I will recover," he assessed.

The soldier now surveyed his battlefield. He noticed all the dark andhidden places one might hide. All the secret compartments, all the unknownmysteries it could hold.

He palmed his weapon once more. "Remember why I'm here," he thought.Then he realized for the first time why he was really here. "To praise God."That was the ultimate reason he was here on Earth. "If I can just fulfill my real reason for being, God will protect me. How wonderful you are, God." Again, he said it out loud. He didn't care who heard him, or who was around. After all, Jesus would keep him safe, right? "Thank you God. How unselfish you are. This can't be fun for you. Watching out for us after we get ourselves in such a mess."

The rain stopped. He got up and began to walk across the parking lot. He kept right on praising even though all the people had begun to stare. "Why didn't they realize they were in a war?" he thought. "Why aren't they fighting?"

He brushed the drops off his weapon and opened the pages. "For ourweapons are not carnal," he read. "Won't they be surprised when they findthemselves in the prison camp, the hell."

He didn't think it in the battlefield, his mind. He said it right outloud with his tongue, his other weapon. He didn't care who heard him.

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Contributed by Marjeana Martin
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