As soldiers show their scars and talk of battles when they come at last to spend their old age in the country at home, so shall we in the dear land to which we are hastening, speak of the goodness and faithfulness of God who brought us through all the trials of the way. I would not like to stand in the white-robed host and hear it said, “These are they that came out of great tribulation, all except one.”
Would you like to be there and see yourself pointed at as the one saint who never knew a sorrow? Oh, no! for you would be an alien in the midst of the sacred brotherhood. We will be content to share the battle, for we shall soon wear the crown and wave the palm.
–C. H. Spurgeon
“Where were you wounded?” asked the surgeon of a soldier at Lookout Mountain. “Almost at the top,” he answered. He forgot even his gaping wound–he only remembered that he had won the heights.
So let us go forth to higher endeavors for Christ and never rest till we can shout from the very top, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.”
Finish thy work, then rest,
Till then rest never;
The rest for thee by God
Is rest forever.
God will not look you over for medals, degrees or diplomas but for scars.
Of an old hero the minstrel sang–
With his Yemen sword for aid;
Ornament it carried none,
But the notches on the blade.
What nobler decoration of honor can any godly man seek after than his scars of service, his losses for the crown, his reproaches for Christ’s sake, his being worn out in his Master’s service.