Pass the Ammo- The Decision

“Fight the good fight of faith”

1 Timothy 6:12

“Pass the Ammo” is a true story series of unnamed (but not unknown) soldiers for Christ who stepped out of their comfort zone to obey the Holy Spirit’s call. To stay in the fight, we’ll need all the extra rounds we can get. So, praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition!

His may not be the testimony of growing old gracefully, but certainly he has grown old Godly. He has always been a man of means, but he is most known for being content in whatsoever state he finds himself in. He’s always had options, but his choices are what set him apart.

Moving away from independence

Years ago he said goodbye to his life’s work and settled into a small house near his childhood home. He was happy for the slower pace of life, for the ability to travel at his leisure, and for the quiet company of his wife, the love of his life.

Until the sad day they parted at the river’s crossing. I’ll see you again, soon! was the strong cry of faith that defied the tears. The precious, tender herb had been gathered, and he was left behind.

Undeniably, things would never be the same again. Everything was dated from that day. Every event compared to when she was there. Every milestone overshadowed with a cloud of grief at her absence. Instead of counting on the days, he began to count the days…

Including the terrible morning that took him away. Something wasn’t quite right, the doctors suspected; and for once they weren’t wrong. A stroke had taken half of his mobility, though it left his mind sharp as ever.

But it didn’t take a sharp mind to see the few stairs he used to climb become an impassable mountain. The house he shared in peace at the peak of his life’s work, he would never be able to walk into again. His suits, which had been his daily attire, he would never put on for himself again. His ties, that accented his good taste, would never be tied by his fingers again.

His dependable car must be sold. His house put on the market. His neighbors that he knew by name, and the streets he had roamed freely since a teenager, forsaken. For all the right hands he had given the world- he is dealt a disparaging left.

He raised some good kids. They don’t want him to struggle anymore. They want to keep him close, take care of him, allow him to rest from the course he has run. The offer is made for him to sit at their table, to be taken care of, to let his guard down.

But instead, he chooses to stay near that same hometown in an assisted living facility. Where most folks have to be convinced, conned, or otherwise put into a ‘nursing home’- he chose to go there. Of all places, there!? Amid the din of blaring rerun televisions? In the cloistered halls with no private space? With the mentally -and often morally- derelict of all ages? Why?

Why? Because there is another sinner to reach. There is another sermon to preach. Someone must be there to give a word of counsel. Someone must be there to ‘care for the dying.’ When most would have hung it up a long time ago, he is putting it on. His race, far from over, has just taken another turn. Time has taken much from him, but not his will. His will to choose, to run, to preach, to witness, to work another day, until his Saviour calls him to fly away.

“…And having done all, to stand.”

Ephesians 6:13b

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