I AM A SOLDIER

I am a soldier in the Army of my God.

The Lord Jesus Christ is my Commander-in-Chief.

My church leaders are my superior officers.

The Holy Bible is my code of conduct.

Faith, prayer, and the Word are my weapons of warfare.

I have been taught by the Holy Spirit,

Trained by experience,

Tried by adversity

And tested by fire.

I am a volunteer in this Army,

And I am enlisted for Eternity.

I will either retire in this Army at the Rapture

Or die doing my duty to this Army;

But I will not get out,

Sell out,

Be talked out,

Or pushed out.

By the grace of God,

I am faithful,

Reliable,

Capable

And dependable.

If my God commands me,

I am there.

If He needs me in the Sunday School,

To teach the children,

Work with the youth,

Help adults

Or just sit and learn,

He can use me

Because I am there!

I am a soldier.

I am not a baby.

I do not need to be pampered,

Petted,

Primed up,

Pumped up,

Picked up

Or pepped up.

I am a soldier.

No one has to phone me,

Remind me,

Write me,

Visit me,

Entice me,

Or lure me.

I am a soldier.

I am not a wimp.

I am in place,

Saluting my King,

Obeying my orders,

Praising His name,

And doing battle for His kingdom!

No one has to send me flowers,

Gifts, food,

Cards, candy

Or give me handouts.

I do not need to be cuddled,

Cradled,

Or catered to.

I am committed.

I cannot have my feelings hurt

Bad enough to turn me around.

I cannot be discouraged enough

To turn me aside.

I cannot lose enough

To cause me to quit.

When Jesus called me into His Army,

I had nothing spiritually.

If I end up with nothing physically,

I will still come out ahead.

I will win.

My God has and will continue

To supply all of my needs.

I am more than a conqueror.

I will triumph ultimately.

I can do all things through Christ.

The devil cannot defeat me.

People cannot disillusion me.

Weather cannot weary me.

Sickness cannot discourage me.

Money cannot buy me.

Governments cannot silence me

And Hell cannot handle me.

I am a soldier.

Even death cannot destroy me.

For when my Commander

Calls me from this battlefield,

He will promote me to Captain

And then allow me to rule with Him.

I am a soldier in the Army,

And I'm marching, claiming victory.

I will not give up.

I will not look back.

I am a soldier,

Marching Heaven bound.

Here I stand!

Will you stand with me?

Will you enlist by trusting Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?

If you already have, be sure you are reporting to your Commander with a:

"Here am I, send me, Sir!"

THE PREACHER'S WIFE

You may talk of the work of the greatest of man,
You may rave about statesmen and teachers;
You may tell all about their achievements, and then,
Let me tell you of the wives of the preachers.

No Martyr was ever more steadfast and true
No soldier was ever more brave;
She's a genius at home, she's a diplomat, too;
And the Best Mother God ever gave.

She has met disappointments with courage so high;
She has battled grim poverty, too.
With a smile on her face and a light in her eye,
And a hope each morning that's new.

She is often alone, but she'll never complain;
And she cheerfully stays by the stuff;
Knowing well that her loss is her dear Master's gain,
And His smile of approval's enough.

She never gets all the credit that's due,
For most of it goes to the preacher;
Few know of the faith and courage so true,
Of this gentle and wonderful creature.

There is coming a day when the whole world shall hear
From the lips of the Crucified One,
Her story in full, told in words sweet and clear,
Hear Him say to her softly, "well done."

And I think that when all of their labors are o'er,
And we know all their unselfish lives,
We'll honor more highly than ever before
The preachers' most wonderful wives.

HARSH WORDS

I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
"Oh excuse me please" was my reply.
He said, "Please excuse me too;
I wasn't watching for you."
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way saying good-bye.
But at home a difference is told,
how we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
As I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
"Move out of the way," I said with a frown.

He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,
"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,
But the children you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
and you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes."

By this time, I felt very small,
and now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up," I said.
" Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.
I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."
I said, "Son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."
He said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay. I love you anyway."
I said, "Son, I love you too,
and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."