Crown Flag Blog

John Masters and Peter Bennett raising the flag above Bombay, India.

 

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The Call

 

  

Time,  

    running like a river, flowing unstoppable, uncontrollable, faster and faster leaving behind all that it missed in its perpetual advance towards the mighty ocean where it will dissolve itself, or be dissolved into the greater mass and depths wither every drop of water ever found its end. 

 

And none can stop its advance, yet some might dare correct its course and stagger her running by building dams and diverting her race. And some may dig a ditch that draws a stem of this quenching flow, and lead it to some pasture-land to nourish the roots of tender plants, ever it reaches again to the sea.

 

So, make your choice, my friend, and find a way to buy back the time, and build your dam, and draw a line across the sand, and slow the waters to do a worthwhile job; and fulfil a purpose that has value in what seems a senseless voyage you are on.

Or else your life, in all its brevity, shall soon be lost among the millions who rushed by senselessly, driven only by the gravity that sucks all of this humanity to its ultimate destiny.

 

So, wake up brother! or time will find you too far down the estuary, too near to the precipice where falls the water into its fearful dark abyss. And regret will never buy you back a moment that once offered you some opportunity to do a thing that gave some everlasting value to your soul.

For here and there the promptings of the river-bank said, ‘Come this way, and lose your life in doing something extraordinary, that gives you time to keep, and fulfil your destiny whilst others only rush on by.’

 

And still it is not too late, for this is but a life-line that if you grasp, though desperately, will prove to be the saviour of your soul.

But if your heart is taken up with flowing in the comfort of those the nearest, and the dearest of companions, and sight is shortened to the soulish dependency of what you feel is good, then you must also rush to the pointless end of a billion souls before. And as you fall beyond the crest with weakened strength, and feeble thoughts of opportunities you had, it will be too late to rectify, or turn around, retrace your steps and make amends of all that you have lost.

But now you hear this warning, and listen to the urgency, and pay not one attention to any other voice. Nor comfort yourself with sanctimony, nor even with the words of those whose love you feel you can’t deny.

 

And drag your soul, and wrench your life away from all that is claimed so dear to you, and gather your heart, and muster the strength to make some dreadful determination, some ultimate announcement, some consequential decision, though sneered upon and frowned at, and strange enough to shake you to the core, yet having the power to save your life and make you worthy where worthy has never been seen before.

 

I mean to say, its time to get up, to shake yourself, to cry aloud, to mourn your fruitless days; and quickly turn upon your steps, and grab the river-bank that offers hope, even at this latened stage, and ask the Master for the grace to pull you up to solid ground, and place your feet upon the rock, and put a song of pilgrimage into your mouth, the strains of which are purposed by the quickening of your heart.

 

And leaving all behind, the river and its companions, the natural course which everyone doth take: look like a stranger and an alien, discarding all the vanity and worthless toys that drown men’s souls in darkness and the grave;

Escape the natural gravity and demon-driven fantasies that keep man’s sluggish soul imprisoned by their power; and break apart the bars of iron that will not let you go; and say to weakness, ‘I AM STRONG!’ and say to fear, ‘I’M NOT AFRAID!’ and say to loneliness, ‘MY GOD, MY KEEPER, HE IS WITH ME!’

 

And if none will wish to walk this way, then still forward I shall go, though wishing they might follow. But me, I cannot wait, for time is quickly flying, and the winds of change are blowing, the future storms approaching, and the grains of sand, unabated, flow down the glass of time.

 

And from this day I pledge myself to such a cause that rebirths passion in my soul; and give myself unconditionally to a higher calling and nobler work than I have ever done, not looking for approval or compliments of man, nor standing on a platform for any to admire, but launching forth, and stepping up to that which calls me onward, to fight the fight, to run the race, not look behind, nor stop to see how far I might have come.

 

But embracing destiny that draws me forth and anchors my soul to goals and visions beyond the threatening skies, I tear away my heart and feelings, my lazy soul, and tired feet, and once again adorn the uniform of one who has been chosen to raise the ensign high upon the field; and shout the shout of triumph above the din of despondency, above the gloom of doubt; and roar a cry of victory above the songs of those who dance around the mystic trees of self-deluded righteousness.

 

And some may hear, and some may not, but matters not, for all the host of enemies of dark and wretched demons, of principalities and rulers of the darkness of this world, will hear for sure, and tremble, and run to find some rock to hide beneath, or creep behind their leader who knows his days are shortened, who roars out like a lion, yet sees his final destiny of darkness and despair.

 

And cry this cry of triumph I shall, and scatter light as shining seeds across the blackened furrows that gouge this planet’s face.

For this the gospel is, and this the work the kingdom does, advancing on the enemy’s camp, releasing souls from Satan’s grip, delivering the captives, and healing wounded hearts;  declaring, ‘TIME UP!’ declaring grace; declaring this the day of conquering!

 

So rise my brother, rise with me, and today we shall change the course and path, not just for ourselves, but for many more, and many yet to come. And shake the earth, and strike the ground with ensign in our hands, and send a tremor to the enemy camp, and tell them we shall come, and with sword and blood, and heavenly fire, shall drive them into hell itself.

 

And all the comforts, pleasures, banqueting;  the friends, and home, and wealth, can wait upon another world of which I am a citizen, wherein I have inheritance, and there for all eternity I shall rejoice and rest and feast, indulge myself in everything that God will there provide. But here I am a pilgrim, a soldier, an ambassador: a job to do, a King to please, a royal standard to raise across the earth.

 

So walk with me if you will, and if not, then not, but now I must be going to be about the Master’s work, engage myself completely, and fasten heart to all that He compels me so to do.

So, go away if all you wish is to draw me back to that which holds no value, no purpose, nor destiny, nor promise for eternity.

 

For I am His, and He is mine, from now, and evermore to be.

 

 

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