From Rogue to Regiment: The Conversion and Courage of James Gardiner

Why James Gardiner Faced Musket Fire Without a Flinch and the Pope Without a Bow

James Gardiner came into this world in 1688 in the Scottish Lowlands, a land where the wind still carried the memory of Covenanter psalms and the soil still drank the blood of martyrs who had told bishops and kings alike that Christ, and Christ alone, was Head of the Church. This was no gentle nursery of quiet religion; it was a forge. And like any good blade, Gardiner would have to endure fire before he could be made fit for the Master’s use.

His family was respectable and thoroughly Presbyterian, which meant he could recite the Westminster Catechism before he could spell his own name. That knowledge was hammered into him from the cradle, yet for years it lay buried under layers of youthful pride. When he was just fourteen, he left home and joined the army, taking his place under the Duke of Marlborough during the War of the Spanish Succession. Barely old enough to carry the weight of a musket, he learned quickly how to carry himself like a soldier.

The British officer corps of the early eighteenth century was not a monastery. It was a gambling den, a tavern, and a theater of vice all rolled into one. Gardiner threw himself into this world with the same vigor he would one day give to the service of Christ. He drank deep, swore freely, gambled recklessly, and pursued women like a man who thought tomorrow would never come. He was skilled with the sword and quick with a jest, equally comfortable in the dueling ring or the arms of some nameless admirer.

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