As does the training wheels.
Almost exactly three years ago, a soldier working in a position I didn't even understand enabled me to finally join a unit after a year of limbo. I sat down in his office hundreds of times for advice and counsel, and he generous eased me more fully into the military culture. He took me under his wing, and is responsible for several chaplains getting their start besides me. He was an expert of experts, a man of supreme competence and character, who earned my title of affection "Chief Chief." My wife knows him by the same name. For risk of publicizing this soldier, I cannot give any further details. I can only say that I had the incredibly painful responsibility to take the man who welcomed me into the unit and escort him out of it, due to unconfirmed allegations. My friend and mentor--the last who I would suspect of any detrimental contact and the one on whom I hoped to lean over the course of this deployment--is gone.
These are the unplanned contingencies that I must always be ready for as a chaplain. In a sense, I'm never ready. But by the grace of God, I will always persevere through whatever I am called to do, even if it means sending the friend responsible for my career on his way. I grieve, but as one with hope.
I continue to be amazed by the thoughtful conversations that attend time with soldiers. Their level of introspection and intellectual curiosity is unparalled, in my experience. My rapport with them deepens, as does my affection. Of course, the best part of all of this is that most conversations--whether centered on intellectual abstractions or circumstances--find a resting place in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The average soldier has a profound appreciation for the brokenness of the world and human nature. In this spirit of sobering realism, they reflect deeply on what God-ordained hope might remedy the defects of human nature.
Psalm 42:3 "My tears have been my food all day and night, while they say all the day long 'Where is your God?'"
As the blind find a justification for their rebellion against God in difficult circumstances, I go back to the previous verse, "When shall I come and appear before my God?" In following the chain of brokenness, my question is not "Where?" but "When?" Hard circumstances do not negate the reality of the living God, but draw our hearts to the hope that can only come from Him. And He, in His mercy, sent His Son to weep over the grave, cry out "Why have you forsaken me?" and then embrace the death that brings me life. I ask "When?" because the "Where?" was answered indelibly on a cursed Roman cross.
May you be blessed in His infinite mercy, my friends.
