SHOULDER TO SHOULDER #4: 1/26/98
Posted by: lifeunlimited <lifeunlimited@...>
Date: Mon, 26 Jan 1998 21:47:52 -0600
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
I have one of the most profound paintings in the world. It is a "one of
a kind"; there is no other exactly like it. I have had it since the
Summer of 1993. Everytime I view it, it brings a flood of emotions to my
heart. Often tears of gratitude well up in my eyes, and indescribable
thanks is formed in my mind toward the person who gave it to me.
In fact, as I sit here in my "home away from home" in Independence, MO
after having just returned from a preaching assignment in St. Paul, MN, I
am viewing it again. I wanted to study it again and share its
description with you. It is, to me at least, an amazing painting.
It is the picture of a soldier recently wounded in battle. He is lying
there gasping for breath, his uniform covered with mud and blood. His
weapon lies some distance away, beyond his grasping fingers. In the
shadows of the background you see other faces. Some are obviously faces
of the enemy. Others are clearly those of comrades in arms. Still others
are hard to discern as to whether they are friend or foe. It leads you
to wonder whether or not this brave fighter was possibly downed by
"friendly" fire.
The most significant character in the picture, however, is the uniformed
image of the man kneeling over the wounded warrior and cradling his
anguished head in his own hands. This servant on his knees is
ministering care and encouragement to the injured man.
The artist has made this painting come alive with intriguing details ----
such as the medal of honor already draped around the fallen soldier's
neck. Its empty box lies amidst the crimson gause and bandages in the
mire. It is obvious that this award was too precious to wait to be
bestowed during a visit to the White House ---- and of infinitely far
greater value. As the soldier gazes down at the medal on his chest,
tears can be seen welling up in his eyes and trickling down his cheeks.
You wonder just what he is thinkng.
The body of the unidentified man on his knees interestingly forms a
protective shield from the glare of explosions and the fallout of debris
cascading around the two men of battle.
It is difficult to determine just who this hero might be. At first
glance, it seems his uniform and equipment would indicate he is a medic.
The satchel of medical supplies and the unmistakeable cross on his arm
band would tend to indicate that.
Another look, however, would reveal weapons for battle ---- much more
than the simple side arm a medic might carry for his own defense. It is
obvious this man is also a man of war, fully equipped to be a victor and
not a victim. His chest is covered with ribbons and medals of previous
victories. The bandaleras draped over his shoulders are still filled
with munitions enough to assure great casualty on the enemy, should they
attack again.
Still a third look will reveal a startling discovery ---- an insignia on
the shoulder and on the helmet make it immediately clear that this hero
is the highest ranking officer in the army. He is the number one
military genius in the war. He has no superior officer ---- he is the
one in charge.
Yet, in all these observations, perhaps the most striking feature is his
face. I have never seen a face quite like this. It is almost beyond
description. The inspirer of this picture genuinely outdid himself at
this point. The face expresses a greater variety of feelings and emotion
than I have ever seen in any face.
You can clearly see the compassion and tenderness of heart that an
experienced officer would have for his troops. There is no hardness
there. The tragedies of a long war have utterly failed to harden his
soul. The tear resting on his cheek makes it clear that he cares deeply
---- personally ---- intimately.
At the same time the set of the jaw shows a soldier bound and determined
to both save the fallen warrior and continue the battle to a successful
conclusion. And, he intends to do the fighting himself, if need be. He
will assume the position of "Point Man" to assure no further ambush
comes the way of his men.
There is another feature, however, that I find great difficulty in both
identifying and describing. There is something there in that face ----
the faint smile of an officer profoundly grateful for this young casualty
and overwhelmingly proud of him. It is as if he is, in some mysterious
way, bestowing on this man in the mud a part of himself ---- a part of
his own seasoned disposition ---- his own vast experience of battle ----
his own inner character and nature.
The wounded soldier seems to sense that some bigger-than-life experience
is taking place. As he gazes at the medal of honor on his chest, his
eyes, through the unique and absolutely amazing artistic brush strokes of
the painter, are also fixed on the eyes of his rescuer. The longer he
gazes into the powerful eyes of this unknown fighter kneeling over him,
the more transfixed he becomes. There is a soft but yet unmistakeable
glow that flushes his countenance. It is as if he knows what is
happening ---- that he is receiving something far greater than the medal
on his chest.
A healing and reviving warmth courses through his body, as if new health
and energy are being bestowed. The most amazing thing, however, is his
sense that the very nature and character of the man on his knees is
flowing into his very own soul ---- a man flat on his back. Though
somewhat hesitant at first, he cannot resist. Fully knowing he doesn't
deserve it, he approves of the gift, and accepts it. He reaches his hand
up to grasp the arm of his protector ---- and smiles ---- and sleeps.
The inspiration for this extraordinary painting comes from an unexpected
place ---- Psalm 3. "O Lord, how my adversaries have increased! Many
are rising up against me. Many are saying of my soul, 'There is no
deliverance for him in God.'
"But Thou, O Lord, art a shield about me, my glory, and the One who lifts
my head. I was crying to the Lord with my voice, and He answered me from
His holy mountain.
"I lay down and slept; I awoke, for the Lord sustains me.
"I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people who have set themselves
against me round about.
"Arise, O Lord! Save me, O my God! For Thou hast smitten all my enemies
on the cheek; Thou hast shattered the teeth of the wicked!
"Salvation belongs to the Lord! Thy blessings be upon Thy people!"
As I further studied that dramatic painting, I slowly realized I was the
man in the mud, having gone through a long and exhausting battle that had
left me alive, but gravely wounded. I was a man felled both by
"friendly" fire and the relentless mortar attacks from the enemy behind
it all in the heavenlies. Not only was I bleeding profusely from those
wounds, but I was slowly bleeding to death as some of my own platoon
members cowered in the shadows. Fear caused by intense battle can sap
the strength of even the most courageous, and dull the vision of even the
most discerning.
But, then, to the rescue came my Redeemer! He was my Healer. He was my
Restorer. He was my Captain! He was kneeling over me and breathing
healing and new life into my fractured and broken condition. And ---- He
smiled at me! And, then I slept.
As I sat there and wept profusely that August morning on the porch of my
home, and just before I started to put the painting aside, I knew ---- I
knew beyond a doubt; the man in the mud was not only me, but also was a
thousand others who had been downed by the gunfire.
My brother, ---- is that you lying there in the mud? Look up! Your
Captain is here! He is kneeling over you. He is weeping! But, He is
smiling! And ---- He is speaking ---- to you! Listen!
As long as I live, I will never forget that painting. Now all I need is
to find someone who can transfer it from the parchment of my soul to the
canvas of an artist's easle, and then let me hang it in a place of
prominence in my study.
Be encouraged, dear friend! For, "when the battle's over, we shall wear
a crown!"
In Christ's Bond,
Bob Tolliver
Life Unlimited Ministries
Ph: 417-275-4854. Fax: 417-275-4855
E-mail: [email protected]
Copyright January, 1998, by Bob Tolliver. All rights reserved.
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