I lay motionless on the ground….I can feel the pain of this war beginning to filter through my bones.
Through the smoke and debris, I can still see the objective of my mission, a small rocky outcrop on top of a hill no more than 20 feet in front of me.
I stammer to my legs which are torn and bloodied. Everything in me screams to give up, lay down, and just die. But my mission is ever before me. I begin to scramble over loose rock and lifeless corpses, keeping my eye on the goal of my mission.
A bullet strikes my shoulder and pounds me to the ground. Another lands in my arm. How can I do this!? What was I thinking!?
Still, I stand. With every ounce of energy in me and begin to plod ahead. I’m almost there.
The rock is now right in front of me. All around are those who almost made it, but met with a pre-mature death. I clammer up the face of the hill, wobbling and unsteady. I’m there. I reach down and pick up the flag still clenched in the fist of another soldier who lies motionless. I plant both of my feet on the rocky ground and with both hands I begin to wave back and forth the banner which gives me hope, the flag of my mission. It is blood soaked, drenched in crimson glory. My missions cause summed up in this alone.
I lift it high, high above my body and with shouts of acclimation and pain, I yell, “IT IS FINISHED!”
He is my hope, my Banner, my flag of good mercy and it He beautiful. I am His, He is mine, and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against me.
(I’ve been reading waaaaay too much Pilgrims Progress.)