Recently I read an excerpt from the life of Napoleon. This strategic, skilled conqueror kept near him a select group of soldiers whom he called “the Old Guard.” He knew he could trust them in any and all situations. They were loyal “to the core.”

   One day it was whispered to Napoleon that there was a rebellion in the old guard. Without hesitation, Napoleon summoned the old guard to the palace court. They waited outside the throne room where alone on a slightly elevated platform, and in the Emperor’s chair, sat Napoleon.

   The old guard wondered anxiously what Napoleon might do. Would they all be imprisoned to ensure his protection? Would they be threatened or scolded harshly?

   As they waited, a messenger opened the door and the first soldier entered. The door closed, and he was alone with the Emperor.  He walked right up to the throne until he stood face to face with Napoleon. Not a word was spoken. Napoleon looked into his eyes, and the soldier looked into the eyes of his commander. Then Napoleon stretched out his hand and they gripped hands, and the old guard soldier left. Then the next came in — no words, only eye-to-eye contact and the handclasp. Each soldier followed in the same silent manner until all had passed before Napoleon. And when all had passed, the rebellion was over forever.

   That brief slice of history fascinated me. The eyes cannot speak audibly, but they still speak volumes.

    The story reminded me of a favorite hymn: “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face; and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace.”

   We live in a world of rebellion and chaos on the worldwide scene, as well as in our government, schools and churches — even homes. “Looking unto Jesus” seems too easy a fix for most. However, we’ll never know until we try itå.

Letters to Camille Anding can be sent to P.O. Box 551, Brookhaven, MS, 39602, or e-mailed to camille@datalane.net.