Wednesday, 9 May 2018

I am His Soldier. 2 Timothy 2:3-4

  "You therefore must endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. No one engaged in warfare entangles himself with the affairs of this life, that he may please him who enlisted him as a soldier." NKJV
  "Endure suffering along with me, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. Soldiers don't get tied up in the affairs of civilian life, for then they cannot please the officer who enlisted them." JCB

  I have a treasure. It rests in a place of honour on my dresser. It seems out of place in my sensible/feminine bedroom, yet, it belongs there.
  It's a sword.
  It's not a sword that ever hung at the side of an honorable soldier. It's not a sword that has ever seen battle except when my brother and I would sword fight using the scabbard as another weapon. The metal scabbard is dented because of it.
  It's not a sword tempered and strengthened in fire. Liquid metal was poured into molds, not forged. It's edge is dull. The point is pointy. It's a wonder nobody lost an eye from it!
  It's a showy, stainless steel sword meant for dancing.
  I think it came into my possession after my father brought it back following one of his many trips to Ontario while we lived down east. I was probably eight or nine. He brought it back because I'd been taking Highland dance lessons for a while. After mastering the Highland Fling...side back, side front, turn two, three, four, is all I remember...we were taught the Sword dance where fancy footwork skipped over and around a crossed sword on the floor. I have no recollection of any of the steps.
  I do remember with utter clarity one of my first recitals (the only one?) and how gut wrenchingly nervous I was.
  Two flimsy yard sticks had been taped together to form the crossed swords. I kicked mine by mistake. It spun away then ended up on top of the next "sword" over. Mortified to make such a blatant error in footwork in front of all the attending parents and families, I kept on dancing as if nothing had happened. So did the girl next to me. (Hmmm, that seems to have been a philosophy that had a tremendously, terrible impact on my life. Something to think about.)
  As much as I hated the dance lessons and was relieved when they came to an end, (give me a pony any day) the sword is one of the few childhood items that stayed in my possession despite multiple moves and a marriage breakdown.
  Like my Bible, it was important for me to hang on to it although I never really understood why.
  I know why now because the sword has become an emblem of my faith. There's even a painted eagle embossed on the hilt.
  It reminds me that the Holy Spirit is an integral part of my life. It reminds me that I have overcome much through the help and grace of Jesus. It reminds me that the hold the enemy of my soul once had has been permanently and irrevocably severed.
  It reminds me I am a soldier of peace.

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