'In peace true soldiers are captive lions, fretting in their cages. War gives them their liberty and sends them, like boys bounding out of school, to obtain their heart's desire, or perish in the attempt. Battle is the soldier's vital breath! Peace turns him into a stooping asthmatic. War makes him a whole man again, and gives him the heart, strength, and vigour of a hero.'
C.T. Studd (famous British missionary)

Go into all the world

 

I wrote the following prose after watching the ‘god-tv’ satellite channel and its woman presenter speaking nonsensical gobbledegook, and claiming that ‘they hold the mandate for evangelising the world’ in these closing days of history; and if you just send your money to them, this is the same as fulfilling your personal responsibility to go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature!

But that is a total lie from Satan, designed to keep you from obeying God, forsaking this world and all its toys, and following him into the field to fight, and take captive precious lives for Christ.

 

RUGGED PASSION

 

The rugged simplicity of personal witness,

Outside of man’s gorgeous plans and self-ascending importance,

Is the purest and holiest means of evangelism

The world will ever encounter.

 

Sadly, the platform beckons the heart with prideful motive,

For all the world is a stage;

And pomp and adulation deceive man’s deluded spirit,

And steal the good intention of even the best of aims.

 

But all the world is a field, and labourers are few;

For here there is no glorying, but simple, pure, and holy hearts

Engage in work that demands no praise or recognition,

But to be a part in saving lives from certain, irrecoverable hell.

 

And only rugged passion

And rugged love that gladly bears the cross

Will ever engage itself to die its own death,

That other death may find eternal life.

 

For except the grain of wheat falls to the ground,

And die its lonely, hidden death,

Then it will be but a lifeless seed.

Though polished up for all to admire,

And though it sit upon a gilded throne,

And wear the finest tapestry,

It cannot ever reproduce

The secret kernel of life’s amazing cycle

That only death can bring.

 

So die it must,

Or all its life is but a living death

Without a single shred of everlasting value;

And soon will be forgotten

By all whose vain admiration

And pretentious soothing words

Kept it on its silly pinnacle

With boosted ego

And wretched self-importance.

 

 

Ah, but if it die, and willingly embrace its grave,

Then life will spring from whence I daren’t explain;

But by the mystery and wonder of its Creator,

A field of wheat doth spring

And rise to see another harvest,

And feed again the starving mass

Of desolate humanity.

 

And some may one-day say, ‘Thank you!’

And maybe none at all;

But surely, ‘Well done thou good and faithful servant’

Will be reward enough.

And just to look upon the souls

Whose lives and surety

Sprung from that ground

That swallowed death in victory,

Will raise the heart to highest heaven

In praise and admiration

To a King who used such wisdom

And condescending grace

To take this worthless, hopeless creature

To fulfil His plan

And bring so many sons to glory,

And so exalt His Majesty

With eternal praise and honour

From such a grateful throng.


                       ©2007  John Masters (The Crown Flag Commission)

Hey, you! Go into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature. It’s a command, not an option. The Bible teaches nothing about retirement. That was invented by a German.

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