The Quiet Testimony of a Faithful Soldier

Do you ever stop and consider how your testimony for the Lord looks? Should we as followers of Christ be concerned about this?

I was blessed to attend the funeral of a great man earlier this year. He never served as the CEO of a major corporation, nor did he lead a life of notoriety in the eyes of an adoring public. He did not serve in the halls of government or join the ranks in a prestigious profession. What he was and did is perhaps more important—he was a WWII Army veteran, winner of two Purple Hearts and the Bronze Star.

He led a quiet life in this lovely Southern town. He was born 91 years ago in some far away time that eludes accurate depiction for us in this early 21st century. A skilled person he was, always working with his hands to create wonderful treasures from wood. His home shone brightly in the old neighborhood next to the hospital—the shrubs trimmed, the trees with their inviting shade, a flower here or there in season.

He and his wife enjoyed 67 years of togetherness through the best years of their lives. She gave him a small Bible when he left to serve the U.S. in the European arena of the war. He still used the same Bible today (how did he read that small print?) In the Bible, he carried two poems. One poem was about a soldier, it may have been called “The Soldier.” The other simply called “Comfort.”

His son and daughter shared touching words during the funeral. The words comforted all of us. They carried us into a timeless place that reminded us about the important things in life. I would have rather heard these words than any of the eloquence that accompanies the funerals of well-known people. They honored a man that represents a generation of Americans with an innate knowledge of the good life.

His work after the war centered on the hardware business until his retirement in 1980. He enjoyed fishing, particularly trout fishing in the small streams of the mountains. The church he served already misses his faithfulness, a man that served as deacon and treasurer through some of the church’s best years.

He was never loud. He was steady. He exuded dependability. He held traits that even great leaders aspire for. This common man was really uncommon. His generation will be missed for their contributions to this nation as citizens, as warriors, as protectors of the greatness we seem to see slipping at times today.

I saw a row of men just like him serving as honorary pallbearers. All in their early 90s, they came to honor their fallen friend while wondering perhaps when their time would come. They still smile and share kind words with everyone. Their veneer is tough, their words few, and their presence makes you think about angels.

Let’s remember this victorious generation with honor. America needs more people like these. We need a revival in our spirits to help us understand what is truly important. These soldiers remind us of this need.

After the funeral I thought about these words from Scripture, words that I have underlined and that all of us could use in these days of uncertain world events. “Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.” 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12.

This quiet life bears a powerful testimony for the Lord, of a life lived in His blessing. Are we not soldiers of the cross? Take time today to consider the quiet testimony of a faithful soldier and what this means to you.