It seems to me that an old soldier’s life would be marked by the battles in which he fought. He could look back and remember the wars in which he participated. He would remember certain foxholes. He would remember the comradery with his fellow soldiers. He would certainly remember the ones he fought back to back with. In many ways he would acknowledge that he had been shaped by each battle. Little by little, precept upon precept, he would become the soldier he is. And even when his wars are all fought, he will always be a soldier. I know that the battles I have fought have shaped me. The seasons that I have walked through have molded me. I remember well the foxholes I have been in at particular times with saints, brothers and sisters, that I have loved as David loved Jonathon.

The seasons of loss, the seasons of victories, the seasons of crying out to God. There are secret times when I have despaired. Times when only the Lord would see the tears upon my pillow, many a sleepless night I have walked where it was just me, all alone, with my Lord. Yet I can say that while all of those battles and seasons have shaped and molded me, none of them has identified me. I am not the guy from the broken childhood, not the guy who lost a son, not the guy who has a special need son. Not the guy whose son went to prison, not the guy who fought for his grandson. And now, not the guy who has cancer. My sole identity is the Lord Jesus Christ and Him crucified. No neighbor or friend would know my background, unless at certain times I could share small portions of my life to comfort them with the very same comfort I have known. Each poem I write I write is either from the battle-field or from the memories of a battle fought. They are forged in the fires of battle or spring to life from from heaven’s throne-room. I wrote this one yesterday. A soldiers poem from a present battle.

THE THORN THAT PIERCES

Shall I shrink back from the crown of thorns
Shall I fall away when I’m battered and torn
Shall I not rise though broken and wasted
And declare heavenly treasures that I have tasted.

This earth is neither my portion nor my rest
And these thorns are but my heavenly test
Pierced and broken but never defeated
I look to heaven where soon I’ll be seated

I cast my eyes upon dark Calvary’s hill
And from the valley floor seek to go higher still
Closer and closer and closer to thee
Where chains are broken and from fetters set free

The night is far spent and the day is at hand
And with Your help alone I will surely stand
The storm may rise and the waves grow higher
Yet to be where you are is my one desire

Nearness to God is the source of it all
Whether we walk or run, or stumble and fall
Through the storms, through the rain, the day or the night
He is there upon the waters, what a glorious sight.