This life kills everyone. What war can you fight then that is about anything other than time management? You need greater time to escape the ravages of disease or the blunders of unwise youth. More time to master the devices of pecuniary worship that men might begin bringing you homage where to now you have worshiped them. More time to capture that one true love that evades, illusory in its candidates each appearing so right until some fragile crack or discoloring blocks the light of love. Time to decide, confide, pick a side or simply reside by the boathouse the one that you just cannot bring yourself to visit.

What grand battle consumes your readied might and tests your tactical measure? Oh too the pursuit of fame to bring light to just how great and worthy the man I’ve become, screaming, “look at me, Look AT ME”, and in that instant of self focus all the party sees our desperate insecurity. A battle to find clean water that my children might not become carriers of worms and intestinal bacteria, but that is not his man’s fight, we fight for Green and Ground and Glory.  Am I giving my life to saves those around me or simply to fain philanthropy that my tomb might be smothered with tears and flowers? What is this war to which I play victim, praying God deliver victory of I be totally consumed, lost or taken?

Father, this is no war that I stand while you fight. Certainly it pulls my heart and leads me to prayer, but there is no loss to me of treasure, prowess or person in standing readied against this foe. They have been defeated and simply wish for me to be lured in somehow become foolish pray, giving the splendor away. Why then does victimhood play so effective upon the heartstrings of man’s oboe? We do not starve with three hots and a cot provided by someone who makes themselves feel as if they’ve done enough, yet we must proclaim all afternoon that we are upon our last plank walking toward ocean, with blade at our backs. Out of guilt must I convey an image that I am somehow stretched, pushed beyond limit of skill and provision that others might never see the ease that this life carries for the Saved. Oh, you think it hard to live this life and live with hurt from humans or loss of job, home or wealth. That is not war but having something returned that was first given. Is it war to watch and weap as humans I’ve cherished surpass their timing. That is not war but life calling us due, the price that all men pay.

My battle is not for time, or ground, or provision to win the castle or the day. My war is one of self-suppression, that I might use each and every word, talent, tithe and ticking moment to bring someone with me when I go, someone having done the impossible, receive the gift of life everlasting. That is the war of this life. The reason that we are given so little, for in such little time we might fill heaven with immeasurable treasure. I am no man’s victim, no victim of class tortured by measure and station, no wounded heart carrying with me the scars of loves lost or opining romance for that love was never guaranteed only offered and accepted. This is my war that America might live again to be free, knowing the only way that will ever happen is one born of Spiritual Awakening. For the things of God may not be understood of carnal man and though our destination appears logically achievable to reasoning minds there is a huge gap between here and there that may not be traversed by man, mind or beast, but only filled by the bridge of Christ’s Love for mankind.

What war does this man wage? It’s either you or me and guess what, The Lord has said You Got To Go. So may He rebuke you as He chooses and may I see you in the rear view as I race them from this town, headed to the Cross up on Time Chase Mountain. You are right I cannot fight you, but you mistakenly believe that I came here to do just that. I came here to remind you that I died on that Cross with Him Two Thousand Years ago and because of that this war’s been over for just as long. Come close that I might sing His Glory and Speak the Word’s of His Wisdom, Equity and Judgment. Oh, you gotta go. I thought so, that’s what God said you would have to say. This is no war but the greatest difficult pleasure that I have ever experienced. And I ain’t done just yet, not quite Yet.