ROBERT was kept in the house by a cold, so he flattened his nose against the glass, and watched a military procession pass by. They were in very gay uniform, with very bright buttons, and kept step beautifully.
Robert watched until the last glimmer of their brightness disappeared round a corner; then he turned with a sigh to watch his mother place pies in the oven, and said to her, “I would like to be a soldier.”
“Very well,” said his mother, “then I would be one.”
Robert stared at her a few minutes, and then said, “Would be what?”
“Why, a soldier. Wasn’t that what you said you wanted to be?”
“Well, but how could I be?”
“Easy enough; that is, if you ask God for His grace. A soldier’s life is never an easy one, of course.”
“But, mother, I don’t know what you mean,” Robert said.
“Don’t! You haven’t forgotten the verses we spoke and prayed about this morning— ‘Greater is he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.’ It takes real soldier-like fighting to rule the spirit, I can tell you.”
“O,” said Robert, and he flattened his nose against the glass again.
“But, mother,” he said at last, “I didn’t mean that kind. I would like to be an officer, and have some soldiers under me.”
“Nothing easier by God’s grace,” said the mother. “There are your ten fingers, and your eyes, and that troublesome tongue that hates to obey. I am sure you have soldiers enough to control. I pity any officer who has as troublesome ones.”
Robert laughed. He had had so many talks with his Mother that he understood her very well; yet this was a new way of putting it. He stood awhile thinking about it; then he said to himself. “With the help of Jesus, I will be an officer in God’s army.” And then lifting up his heart to God, he prayed that he might indeed be “a good soldier of Jesus Christ,” and that his soldiers under him might do God’s will. Then he wondered what orders he should have to give them first.
Poor fellow! In less than ten minutes from that time he knew.
He went to the sitting-room to find that baby Carrie had been there before him. There lay his birthday book on the floor, some of the loveliest pictures in it torn into bits. His photograph album was on the sofa; but chubby fingers had tugged at mamma’s picture until it lay loose and ruined, and papa’s page was gone entirely.
O! how angry was Officer Robert. He wanted to run after Carrie and slap her naughty fingers; she was almost two years old, and ought to know better. He wanted to run to his mother, and with red face and angry voice tell his story of wrong, and demand that Carrie be whipped. He wanted to bury his head in the sofa cushions, and cry just as loud as he could roar. Why did he do none of these things? Just because he remembered in time that he was an officer in the Lord’s army, and had soldiers that must obey. And, moreover, that he had a Captain— “The Captain of the Lord’s host” (Jos. 5.), whom he must obey, and who had told him to be forgiving and patient, and “slow to anger.”
“Halt!” he said to his feet, as they were about to rush away; and they instantly obeyed. “Stop!” he said to the tears, as they began to rush in torrents up to his eyes; and back they all went, save one little straggler who rolled down his nose, and was instantly wiped out of, existence. In short, the boy, by God’s grace, proved himself a good soldier for that time at least. He even sent his feet upstairs presently with a rosy-cheeked apple for Carrie, and bade his arms give her a loving hug, which they did.
Mamma found out all about it, as mammas almost always do; and when papa came home at night, what did he do but bow low and say, “Officer Robert, I am proud to salute you. I hear you have fought a battle and won.” Then gravely he added, “Thank God, my boy, that you have taken your stand as ‘a good soldier of Jesus Christ.’ Trust Him at all times, and He will enable you and your soldiers to win every battle.”
ML-11/21/1920