“Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.”
– Song of Solomon 6:4
I talked to a freight train rider. A modern hobo. He’s been all over the country. He asked “how are the cops here? Can I fly a flag?” I asked what’s that? He pulled out a cardboard sign.
Gangs have their flags too. Their colors. If a gang member backs down from a fight they call it “dropping the flag” it’s a sanction. They get a hearing but the consequences is usually a best down.
I think it goes without saying how soldiers feel about their flags. And cowardice in the face of the enemy. It’s the same in every nation. Flags mean something. It’s identity and belonging and what we stand for.
So I asked my self where is the Christian flag. In the back of the church. Is it a forgotten relic?
I have flag. Like the beggars. A simple verse easily seen from a distance. A verse with meaning. A verse that I hope will raise questions and plant something God can use in night seasons when all is quiet. And when a man’s conscience is troubled. I hold my little flag. I talk to people about Jesus Christ and salvation and deliverance from sin. And the joys and peace that come from trusting in Jesus. Several hundred souls today. A few good conversations. One false accusation from an agitated hooker. One real threat from a drunk. One sincere prayer with a father for his children. Worth it. Jesus is worth it. Maybe God will give you a flag. A verse and a hill or a corner.