A love song for Anglican Chaplain Geoff Harvey & for Brother Jim Wallace, who understands covenant love & for the VC winning chaplain, who chose to drown with his flock of sailors Un-Yorking the Church from Constantine by the son of a daughter of York and bastard soldier-boy from Sydney conceived near Woking born Melbourne Please let no one panic about me, Those of you who know me. I cant see myself, of course. You should know better than me, what my mind looks like to the world; But let me tell you straight whats here in my heart. It seems that Im a soldier, just born that way, I guess. When priests tell me that I should be a good soldier of Jesus if I sacrifice myself to him it doesnt add up in my heart. That is not what Jesus ever asks of me, only to *carry* MY cross, he says. A soldier understands that. Soldiers strive in battle, not to kill and not to die, but to follow their mission, which they trust the supreme commander has got right. Officers dont rule over men, they just deliver orders to their sons. They send them off for a sacrifice they hope will never be made. At least the state rewards men, with the market price for gambling with their lives. But it takes some hocus pocus, to see more glory in the dead than in those who come back alive. John wanted lads to live for their wives, which is the way Ive always seen it; but I get the feeling Peters wife was keen on watching him go up in the world. On the other hand we note that Paul had no wife! And thats no surprise! The family of Israel wasnt enough for him, hed tilt at the whole damned world he would! No wonder they both ended in Rome. Dont blame me for having visions, its not as though Im the first. But theres something odd about Jesus issuing orders. He stopped Paul in his tracks. But if some kind girl had prayed that Paul change sides, and God heard it and made it so, that little girl prayed the death of a continent, however truly humbled and converted Paul was. I owe my life to Paul, but its all those families of native Americans lost that has me gagging. Its better to sing the gospel in the family. But Im slipping back to work on my sabbath Id better stop this soon. Though I dont find it work. Soldier poets are widely known; it actually goes with what they do. Dont you know? What do soldiers do when they march? Soldierings all about marching. More about suffering orders from on high, than about ending the life of a brother, poor sod, just branded by the wrong side. Peter and Paul seemed so eager to die for the truth that they were preaching. Who am I to question them? And their doctrine *is* pretty much right. I suspect it will prove to be true to the letter; but its the spirit in their words thats not quite right. How on earth can I prove that to anyone? I give you Johns testimony and that of Jesus, as regards who was actually there at the cross: unafraid, unsurprised, sharing the happy moment with his brother, and strong enough to look after his mother as well. The centurion with the dead daughter, now hes a man that I respect. He saw Jesus, right to a T. Check again what he saw about Jesus and about the chain of command. Jesus knew all about foxholes, and he knew about guarding them too. BRITANNUS. It will split one of the Egyptians hairs to-day, Caesar. I have set it myself. CLEOPATRA (suddenly throwing her arms in terror round Caesar). Oh, you are not really going into battle to be killed? CAESAR. No, Cleopatra. No man goes to battle to be killed. CLEOPATRA. But they DO get killed. My sisters husband was killed in battle. You must not go. Let HIM go (pointing to Rufio. They all laugh at her). Oh please, PLEASE dont go. What will happen to ME if you never come back? CAESAR (gravely). Are you afraid? CLEOPATRA (shrinking). No. CAESAR (with quiet authority). Go to the balcony; and you shall see us take the Pharos. You must learn to look on battles. Go. (She goes, downcast, and looks out from the balcony.) That is well. Now, Rufio. March. youtube/watch?v=69zvFnVa03g
Posted on: Sun, 22 Jun 2014 07:12:13 +0000
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