The mold of his remains stands in stark contrast to others. Most were in various
stages of repose. Some wore the face of shock and desperation. Others looked
like they had simply laid down and died. Over 2,000 didn’t make it out
of the city before it was too late. But he, alone, stands out from the crowd.
It was 79 AD. Pompeii sat at the base of a grumbling volcano. For most of
those who called Pompeii home, it was an upper-crust enclave for Rome’s
rich and famous. A little over a decade earlier, it had taken a powerful hit
from an earthquake—a seismic warning of its pending demise. This time,
however, only expedience and level-headed leadership would save the fortunate.
As it was, about 18,000 made it out alive. But the remaining 2,000 who were denied
the benefit of a running start told a compelling story of the hopelessness that
made up their final hours.
Let’s forget about them for now. Their story has been well told in the
rows of books each library carries on the history and excavation of Pompeii.
I want to focus on the gladiators. For the bulk of the ones stationed there,
Pompeii was simply their current billet until their tour of duty was over. It
wasn’t their town, it was just the one they were assigned to guard. The
people weren’t their families, they were just the ones Rome had left in
their care. But when the initial rumblings began in nearby Mt. Vesuvius, the
orders were handed down and the gladiators were assigned their post.
Reality dictates the obvious. Human nature is human nature. A volcano erupting
in the background and 20,000 citizens panicking in the foreground make it hard
to keep one’s focus. The brass in charge of the troops might desire, but
few would expect that conscripts far from home would hold their post and do their
duty in such a hopeless setting. In fact, many of the gladiators discovered in
Pompeii were found chained to their post.
Then there was this lone soldier: vigilant, focused, and dead. He was found
almost two thousand years after the fact still holding his assigned position,
weapon at the ready, unfazed, resolute, and unmoved by personal needs. I have
no idea who he was, what he looked like, or where he hailed from. But he’s
the only one out of all the thousands of people who died in this ancient, pagan
city that I actually admire. He gets my vote because he didn’t run when
everyone else did. He didn’t think about himself when everyone else would
have. A good chunk of those 18,000 who got out in time owe him for their lives.
And in his death, he teaches us all a lesson for today.
The fact is, there are some moral and spiritual threats rumbling in the distance
that make Vesuvius look mild. At the foot of these threats sit some people we
all love. God calls us to duty, to vigilance, and to courage. He calls us to
hold our post and think about others instead of ourselves. He asks us to surrender
our selfish interests, and maybe even forego some of our needs. And no matter
what, He asks us not to turn tail and run.
I’m not going to go down the laundry list that makes up the biggest
threats to your family. You should know them by now. If you can’t articulate
them, then you might want to start running now; at least you can save yourself.
But if you care about the people left in your charge, I thought you might benefit
from the standing orders of those assigned by God to guard the perimeter.
In the military, they’re known as "The General Orders of the Sentry."*
If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to list them as is, then adapt them
to our scenario:
To take charge of this post and all government property in view. (While we’re
on duty as moms and dads, we’re to assume a position of leadership, keeping
a good eye on everything and everyone in our care.)
To walk my post in a military manner, keeping always on the alert and observing
everything that takes place within sight or hearing. (We’re not to be mistaken
for the "run-of-the-mill." We’re in the Lord’s service.
We must pay attention!)
To report all violations of orders I am instructed to enforce. (We don’t
do anyone any favors by ignoring the rules. Circumvented standards are useless
and meaningless.)
To repeat all calls from posts more distant from the guardhouse than my
own. (Everyone fares better when we keep the lines of communication open.)
To quit my post only when properly relieved. (For most, it’s just before
they embalm you.)
To receive, obey, and pass on to the sentry who relieves me all orders
from the commanding officer, officer of the day, and officers and non-commissioned
officers of the guard only. (The next generation will fare much better if we
make sure they know what it takes to do their job well.)
To talk to no one except in the line of duty. (Beware of those who would distract
you from doing your best.)
To give the alarm in case of fire or disorder. (Don’t worry about sounding
foolish. Warn them of the threats. Even if they choose to ignore you, at least
they have no one to blame but themselves.)
To call the commander of the relief in any case not covered by instructions. (Pray, pray, pray!)
To salute all officers, and all colors and standard not cased. (Remember,
it’s God and His Word that demand our respect and honor.)
To be especially watchful at night and, during the time of challenging,
to challenge all personnel on or near my post and to allow no one to pass without
proper authority. (It might be lonely, and it might be frightening, but God is
with you. He’ll never leave you nor forsake you.)
Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable; always abounding
in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain, in the Lord. 1 Corinthians 15:58
* From the Plebe’s Handbook, Reef Points, United States Naval Academy.
On the Home Front with Darcy Kimmel
One of the most exciting times for a parent in their child’s spiritual
journey is when that child chooses to be baptized. It is one of those exhaling
moments when you feel the relief and joy that comes from knowing that your child
has made a personal salvation decision and is willing to testify to its validity
and importance in the company of friends and family.
Shiloh was baptized recently, and it was so encouraging to hear her articulate
her testimony and make a public commitment to live a life that reflects her decision.
God is so faithful, and we are so grateful.
Shiloh was one of many baptized that evening, and I couldn’t help noticing
a similarity in the testimonies as they were shared. Again and again, a parent,
a Sunday school teacher, an Awana leader, a camp counselor, or a willing friend
was credited with loving the regenerated sinner into the kingdom of God. It was
a great reminder to me that God uses us, the ordinary, to participate with Him
in the extraordinary. What a privilege!
If you fall into one of those broad categories of influence, be encouraged
that God can use your position of service to shepherd a child to the Savior.
Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them: for of such
is the kingdom of God. Mark 10:14
