The Main Part of the Soldier’s Life
By W. A. S.
THE most famous painter of battle scenes in our day, the Russian artist, Verestchagin, lost his life when the battle-ship “Petropavlovsk” went down in the Port Arthur roadstead. He counted himself a servant of peace, for he painted, not to glorify war, but to show its sordid and sad side. He did not choose the dramatic scenes of war, but held that the real campaign was made up of common hardship and misery, without the excitement and carnal inspiration of the shock of the battle-field. He said:— Weeks are spent in marching in blazing suns, in clouds of dust, or in toiling through mud while the rains drench you to the skin. War means hunger, thirst, sickness, the pain of wounds, privations of all kinds,—a reversion to the conditions of savage existence. All these things last for days, for weeks, for months, while the time that is passed in actual fighting is but a few hours. Why, then, should we, in painting war, devote our attention exclusively to these moments of excitement, and ignore the dull, grim realities that make up the life of a soldier on campaign? There is a lesson for the missionary soldier in this view. Many a youth who enlists in an army is fascinated by the thought of bright uniforms, the waving of banners, the chance to do gallant service and win applause and renown. And he finds that he little understood the real hardness of the service and the commonplace duties that make up the life of the average trooper. Now we are called to endure hardness as good soldiers of Jesus Christ; and we, too, shall find that this means a vast amount of what might be called commonplace, hard, heavy work. After all, character is not tested more in meeting great crises than in bearing the brunt of this every-day wear and tear of life. The strength for the crisis is but the sum of the victories gained in the common experiences. The test for the missionary work is not more in the courage that meets sudden emergencies or dangers than in the plodding constancy that counts for every-day faithfulness when there are no great battles to be won nor stirring events to be encountered. Many a man who could nerve himself to meet a sudden shock of danger finds himself weak when the service calls for steady devotion to uninspiring details. Our hearts are stirred as we think of Moffat, with bared breast, facing the Bechuana spears, of Paton, holding the muzzles of the cannibal islanders’ guns and praying God to keep him, or of Ann Haseltine Judson, week after week facing that wicked Burmese court, pleading for Judson’s life. But these are not the items that make up the triumph of missions. These experiences but bring into relief the trust and devotion and self-abandonment born of days and months and years of unwavering toil among unappreciative people, with no one looking on,—no one but God and angels,—no one cheering, no trumpets blowing, no flags waving. God’s work calls for those who can endure hardness in meeting commonplace experiences, and who will be as true in little things as in the great. It is easier ofttimes to be courageous when the stiff battle is on than to hold encouragingly on when the situation calls for waiting only upon God. When the work moves with a rush and a stir, it is easier to be strong in faith than in the time of patient waiting. It is good to know how to run and not be weary; but most often, perhaps, do we need to learn how to walk and not faint. It is often harder to plod along at a walking pace than to run forward. But those that wait upon the Lord shall learn it. Isa. 40:31.