In our few hours in the Middle East, I went out with about a dozen of my soldiers for our first drinks in half of a year.
Each soldier was allowed three drinks. Most everyone else got three large German beers. I got three small, mixed drinks: a Gin and Tonic, a Pina Colada, and a Tequila Sunrise. I thought those three drinks sounded the most tasty. When we went outside to our table and I told the soldiers what I ordered, a female at a nearby table asked me if I left my purse inside. We all enjoyed a good chuckle.
And as might be expected, once the soldiers started enjoying their drinks, the conversations deepened (or as I call such occasions, "manversations").
At one point, one of the soldiers abruptly broke off of a conversation and told me that I was the best chaplain he's ever had, and he's had quite a few chaplains. As you might expect if you know me pretty well, I didn't know how to handle the compliment. I gave a quick "Thanks," but followed it up immediately with, "Well, I love what I do." The soldier said that he could tell. I added that I also really cared about our soldiers. He said that he knew that as well.
As my wife told me later when I mentioned this to her, "Again, you can always just say 'thank you.'" Such a simple response is hard for me, as I such comments often fall on the knife's edge between my insecurity and arrogance (two sides of the same coin of self-idolatry).
But I must reflect on such comments, as soldiers at the end of a deployment are not prone to flattery. Also, this comment did not come in a vacuum. A number of soldiers told me something similar over the course of the deployment. As much as she likes them, I rarely conveyed these to my wife because I immediately downplayed them in my own head.
I mention all of this, not to boost my pride, but to rejoice in God's grace. Do you all remember how insecure I was, and how unwilling to rest in God's grace, as the beginning of this deployment? Do you remember how nervous I was about being a sufficient soldier and staff officer? Do you remember the time I received a counseling statement, just before leaving Texas, and how severely perturbed I was by the experience?
The same commander who counseled me and told me that while great with the soldiers, I was not a very good staff officer, told me the other day that the reason he wants to keep me in the unit until he leaves next Fall was because he wants to continue to help me grow, viewing us as having a mentorship-type of relationship. At the same time, he is willing to write me whatever recommendations I might need.
On a superficial level, I could trace my apparent success as a chaplain on this deployment to what I learned from my veteran brother years ago when I first joined the chaplaincy. He told me that the good chaplains rolled with their soldiers, while the bad ones sat behind a desk (my paraphrase). Many other vets and soldiers told me almost the exact same thing when I would ask. As a result, I rolled out on about two dozen convoys, visited soldiers on opposite ends of the country, worked out with soldiers, counseled soldiers, and visited soldiers often. They knew me and I knew them. I loved them.
On a deeper level, the hand of God in all of this is unmistakable. There were so many times when the wheels were greased for my greater involvement in the lives of soldiers--all I often had to do was say "Yes, I'll go." More important, God gave me words when I was speechless, and enabled me to serve when I was paralyzed with doubt. He gave me strength, though I was so very, very weak.
I am concluding this deployment with a greater confidence in my calling as a chaplain, not because of great feats that enabled me to "believe in myself" more, but because God fed the truth of 1 Tim. 1:15-16 deeper into my heart. Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But He did this to show His unlimited patience as an example for those who might believe and have eternal life.
I always thought that such an example was simply for others to see the grace of God in the life of a sinner. I now know that such an example is also for me, that I might truly believe that God can and will use me with unending patience, though I am such a weak vessel.
It would be a cliche for me to say that I am not the man I used to be, though that cliche certainly proves true for me. But the greater reality is that since God granted me saving faith in His Son years ago, I have not been the same man--I belong body and soul, in life and in death, to Jesus Christ. That is the monumental change, and it occurred long ago. The more recent change is simply this: Now, I am more likely to believe it.
