Healing Beyond Borders: A Patrol Agent’s Journey

The Good Border Patrol Agent

He stands where fear draws lines in dust and law is shouted loud,
Yet mercy hums beneath his breath, a steadier, kinder sound.
From hills where blessings fall like rain on meek and poor in heart,
He learned the craft of healing souls before the wounds could start.
Ellen G. White’s book and Jesus’ words, taught him this: true borders guard the good—
The gate of love that keeps us whole, not bars of iron or wood.

He knows the sick are more than charts, the lost more than a case,
That hunger has a thousand tongues and pain a human face.
So when he checks the weary eyes that cross his post at dawn,
He sees a neighbor, not a threat, a story still going on.
The Sermon’s law he carries light—be salt, be lamp, be kind;
To heal the body, mind, and heart, leave no one left behind.

He binds the wounds with gentler hands than rules alone can give,
For righteousness is not a fence but how we choose to live.
He feeds the hungry with his bread, the angry with his peace,
Reminding them forgiveness is the truest kind of release.
Blessed are those who make the way where enemies can meet,
For healing walks on humble feet and knocks on every street.

He guards the line between despair and hope with watchful care,
Refusing bribes of fear or hate that thin the common air.
He knows the eye that wanders, too, and plucks it back to truth—
Not shaming flesh, but schooling love to keep its holy youth.
If prayer is done in secret, still its power fills the land;
He prays while working—heart on watch, compassion in command.

At dusk he signs his log with grace and leaves the gate ajar
For mercy’s late arrivals who’ve come bleeding from afar.
The kingdom comes the quiet way, through bread and touch and word,
Where peacemakers patrol the night and every cry is heard.
So heals the world, one crossing soul, till borders fade from view—
When love becomes the law we keep, and makes all things made new.