Two folders sat on President Abraham Lincoln's desk, each asking him to commute or pardon the sentence of death hanging over the soldier named therein. Without the President's pardon, both would die by hanging within the week.

     Only desertion was considered more despicable than falling asleep on sentry duty. Many a fine soldier had been killed or wounded in surprise attacks made possible by a sleeping sentry. In a way, these two soldiers were "lucky" to be afforded an appeal. In some cases, the sentries were shot immediately by officers or fellow soldiers angry at the loss of a brother or friend in the attack. Many were executed before their appeal papers could reach Mr. Lincoln.

     As each folder made its' way to the White House, family members often pleaded their case directly to the President, using emotion and even bringing the soldier's small children to beg and cry. Others desperately wrote their pleas for leniency and sought out prominent friends to support them. Some had none to appeal for them but Mr. Lincoln himself.

     Indeed, historians record that the President looked for any possible reason to issue pardons, once even declaring that he could hardly blame a man if God gave him a brave heart but "running legs". He also knew that soldiers often marched miles and miles (physical stress) to a battlefield fully aware he might be wounded or killed (mental stress), where they would fight without food or sleep for hours and even days before a break came in the battle. Small wonder, then, Mr. Lincoln observed, that soldiers out on the edge of camp in the darkness of late night/early morning might fall asleep amidst the snoring of the troops and the lulling, repetitive sounds of nature. How could he not parole them?

     Imagine the joy of family and friends, with the date of execution already scheduled, racing to produce the pardon that set the prisoner free! Imagine the prisoner, shamed and broken, bereft of hope, hearing these words: "Let's go home. You're pardoned and you're free."

     Those of us who know Jesus Christ as Savior have been that prisoner set free. We know God as a loving Father eager to receive those seeking His pardon; we know, too, of the Savior, sitting at His right hand endorsing our names as they're written in the book of life.

     How many of us, though, know the role of pleading petitioner, passionately asking God to open the eyes and hearts of those yet unrepentant? Are we leaving no stone unturned as we shift from prayer to action? Do we have a longing to bring pardon to those who may not yet even realize they need it? Do we see and have hearts for those whose pursuit of "good" leaves them no time to consider mercy?