Note* This is one of the best poems I have read that articulates the differences between the elect and the apostate. 

THE PIGRIM AND THE APOSTATE

My friend, this story which I tell,
Is not new to your ear.
For it began so long ago,
And continues year by year.
It’s the story of a pilgrim
Who, clad in armor tight,
Met a worldly Christian
Who was not armed to fight.

Now perhaps it should be noted here
(Lest details should be lost)
That these two men had met before
While kneeling at the cross.
And both had donned the armor
Which the Captain did provide–
The breastplate and the Gospel shoes,
And the sword kept at their side,
The shield of faith, the Word of Truth
(A most abundant ration),
And best of all, upon their heads,
The helmet of salvation.

And both men picked their crosses up
And started on their way,
But had not gotten very far
Till one was heard to say,
“My cross is very heavy;
It doth hinder where I go.
I’ll drop it here along the way.
The Captain will not know.
And I will leave this narrow road
And walk the road that’s broad.
Then I’ll not need these heavy shoes
With which my feet are shod.
And won’t you travel with me, friend,
Along this easy way?
Think of all the fun we’ll have!
Oh, let’s begin today!”

But the pilgrim slowly answered,
“Friend, this I can not do.
I can not lay my cross aside
And travel hence with you.
For my will and my desires
Are in the Captain’s Hand.
And the cross which I now carry,
I do at His Command.
As for the road that’s broad, my friend
That’s not the way to go.
It leads to sure destruction,
For the Captain told us so.”

“Nonsense,” laughed the worldly one,
“They both end up the same.
But your road leads through battlegrounds,
And mine through fun and games.
For up ahead they stomp and shout
‘Hooray!’ and clap their hand.
‘The Lord has won another soul,
From the enemy of man.’
And, oh, it looks like so much fun
To clap and shout His praise,
And never fight the battle,
And never run the race.”

And so their pathways parted.
Each went their separate road.
One chose the way that looked like fun,
And one the crown of gold.
Now many times the narrow path
Does cross destruction’s way.
And so sometimes they chanced to meet
Like they did thus one day.

“Greetings, sir,” the pilgrim called.
And then he looked again
Lest his eyes deceive him.
Was this his Christian friend?
“But what’s happened to your loincloth?”
He asked in sure surprise.
“The everlasting Truth of Christ
That was gird about your thighs?”

“Oh that,” the other answered,
“I traded it away.
It’s more comfortable to wear,
The words that people say.
But you, my friend, look weary.
Is the battle raging hard?
Why not watch the Captain,
And cheer Him from my yard?”

“No, the Captain’s always with me,”
The pilgrim to him said.
“I can’t forsake Him now, you see.”
And so he plunged ahead.
And again the two were parted
As each continued on their way.
But oft the pilgrim thought of him,
And often he did pray.

The next time they came together
When the two ways met again,
The pilgrim sadly shook his head
When he saw his wayward friend.
“Where,” he asked so sadly,
“Is the plate of righteousness
That one time hung so brightly
From your laden chest?”

“It was so very awkward
That I left it by the way.
And instead I donned the works of men
That you see me in today.
For you see they suit me better,
And I think them rather pert.”
(And the pilgrim groaned in spirit
For they were but rags of dirt.)

“And your sword and shield?”
The pilgrim asked,
“Those also have you lost?
The ones the Captain gave you
When you knelt there at the cross?”

“I seem to have mislaid them,
But I really need them not.
Remember, my friend, I stand and cheer
When the battle wages hot.
All I really need, you see,
Is this helmet on my head
To keep me in His army,”
The deceived one smugly said.

“But surely you’re mistaken, sir.
Oh, don’t you see the Light?
You can not be His soldier if
You are not armed to fight.”

When the conversation ended,
Their paths again did part.
The pilgrim clad in armor full,
With a burden on his heart,
Turned again to battle
The enemy of man,
Trusting in his Captain
And heeding His Command.
And the riches and the treasures,
Which he acquired in his race,
Shone like jewels in his eyes,
And joy was on his face.

And when they met the next time,
Many years had passed.
They met again on Jordan’s shore,
And this time for the last.

“Well done, thou faithful pilgrim,”
Said the Captain of the fight.
“Removest thou thine armor,
And don this robe of white.
For thy battle now is over.
Thy victory has been won.
Come now into the wedding feast,
Thou good and faithful son.”

“Good Captain,” said the worldly one,
“I have no armor on
Save this helmet on my head.”
(But it, my friends, was gone!)

“O foolish, slothful servant!”
The Captain said that day.
“Without thine armor thou hast made
Thyself an easy prey.
For the enemy has crept upon thee
And taken thy salvation.
He led thee down the easy road
That leads to condemnation.
For thou wast never with me
When the battle waged so hot.
O ye that work iniquity,
Depart, I know thee not!”

And so the worldly Christian,
Who cast his armor off,
Joined his other playmates,
Eternally now lost.
But as you travel through your life,
You’ll meet many with his name.
And no doubt they’ll try and tell you
That the Christian’s life’s a game.
But it’s not a game, dear pilgrim,
For the Bible tells us so.
It’s a battle to the end,
And the winner gets your soul.

–Michelle Richard