Last Wednesday morning (the 2nd), I was sitting in a Starbucks, enjoying a wonderful conversation with the retired, long-time pastor of Falls Presbyterian Church, Neil Tolsma. On the front-end of my own ministerial journey, I love collecting the wisdom of those on the tail-end. Pastor Tolsma is an emotional Dutchman who grew up on a dairy overlooking the New York City skyline, sat under the teaching of some of the most eminent 20th century theologians, and labored for decades in relative anonymity for the sake of the elect--known and unknown (2 Tim. 2:10). He's a book that writes itself!
Little did I know how that cozy time of edifying conversation would give way to the raw, wind-bitten nature of Army life! On Friday afternoon, after Pastor Ben helped me pick up and bring home our new dining room table, I left my wife with a valuable helper (thank you, Gram!) and sojourned across Wisconsin to my unit in Eau Claire. While I love hotel rooms (thank you, Army!), I go stir-crazy in the silence and have to keep the TV on the whole time. Oh, how I hate silence (except in prayer, but even then, I often pray out loud).
My Saturday at the unit began relatively normal. I mingled with soldiers and engaged in some basic apologetics with one skeptic-friend. I then drove my (borrowed--thank you, Pastor Ben!) car through the open entrance of the the barbed wire gate in order to carry some boxes of books and other belongings inside. Pretty soon, I was ensnared in another conversation (I love it!) with a fellow believer and one of the few black men in small town Wisconsin (by his account and my observation).
My brigade chaplain then arrived with two chaplain assistants in tow to take me 1.5 hours away to Ft. McCoy so I could give the benediction for a change of command ceremony. Really, Chaplain Bacon was just using the ceremony as an excuse to come and spend time with me. A wonderful older brother in the faith. We walked past my car, through the barbed wire gate, to an awaiting vehicle. In the early evening--after a wonderful time with those brothers--I gave the benediction and visited with the commands of my units throughout the state (Eau Claire is simply the headquarters) and came back in the dark. I arrived at the Reserve Center, to find my car trapped behind the barbed wire.
I had the men take me to my hotel instead, and mapped my course to foot-march the 3.7 miles to the Reserve Center in full uniform at 0700 the next morning. I texted a soldier at the unit to let the command know that I would be late in any case. I ordered a wake-up call for 0630, then called a soldier who had prevented his brother from committing suicide a few days prior. The soldier was still shake up (obviously!) and he let me pray with him over the phone. I don't think I've ever had a soldier refuse in circumstances like those. I got to bed at a late hour, dreading the wake-up call that was drawing closer by the minute.
At 0720, I woke up to the startling realization that the wake-up call never...well...roused itself to do its work. I was about to turn into a spinning flurry of activity when I received a call (0721) from a female soldier who was struggling with depression. Out of a dead sleep, I spent the next 35 minutes counseling and caring for her. She talked openly of her brokenness and also of her interest in various religions and their common teaching on the "law of love." I spoke to her of a human brokenness--that she knows all to well--that can't by nature conjure up such love. The love of God is found in Christ being broken for broken people. (Remember, it was 07-whatever so I wasn't nearly that articulate. I sounded like Barry White had swallowed a frog.)
I got to the unit in time to lead a chapel in the company commander's office. About half a dozen soldiers attended, as well as a young boy (it was family day). I offered a 15 minute sermonette on the true nature of sin and the need for the Gospel from the aftermath of David's affair with Bathsheba. Soon after, I jumped in the car and drove back across the state--stopping briefly to grab lunch to-go from Culver's and arrive at my Milwaukee unit with 20 minutes to spare before I need to lead their chapel.
It turns out that the Milwaukee unit is really just 15 minutes from my house, in the same complex as the recruiters' company. I will be there often, Lord-willing. I introduced myself to the 200+ soldiers, then enjoyed another brief chapel service with about 20 of them. I preached on the man born blind from John 9 and the need to understand and embrace the true Gospel (not the feel good, "I'm a good person" version). I had a good discussion with several of them afterward.
I went home, grabbed my little ginger-bread boy and rushed off to the evening service at Falls. I was bleary-eyed and absent-minded as I tried to keep the little one in check, especially as he began pushing furniture and yelling during the congregational prayer. I put him in the nursery. The cool thing--no matter how he behaves--he always loves to pray and sing hymns with Daddy in the car. He will pray and sing simultaneously with me--as if he knows the words--then cries out "I pray!" or "I sing!" Adorable and a reflection of God's glorious grace.
That blurry weekend really found its culmination on Monday night, when my wife graciously allowed me to go to a local bar to watch the Redskins on Monday Night Football. Down time? I think not! While my Redskins were working hard to lose to the Dallas football team (I will not use the name), I found out that my bartender is a 10-year vet from my unit! He got put out of the Army after breaking his back in a fall out of a second story window in Iraq (don't ask). We became Facebook friends on the spot (which means we also have to be friends in real life, right?). We also had a great time talking during the course of the game.
The next night, with a bit more rest under my belt, I joined the American Legion for their Christmas potluck. Just before dinner, they asked me to say a prayer. I walked up, and one of the 40 or so elderly people there yelled out "HE'S A CHAPLAIN?" Earlier, one of the vets made sure that I had been carded at the bar. THIS, my friends, is why I grow out my facial hair and grizzled grays in between army drills.
After the potluck, an older woman came up to me and described herself as a widow. I asked her how long. She said 38 years. Her husband was electrocuted in a freak accident in his mid-30s, leaving behind an 11 year old boy and 6 year old girl. This widow wanted to know why that happened. I told her that the better (and more comforting) question is not "Why?" but "Who?". Who did God send to show His heart toward death and His power over death? (John 11). We only have God's Word to deal with such questions--and it is sufficient. And we know that God has the final word over death.
In all of the recent episodes, I remember Paul's words to Timothy in his final letter--"I am chained even to the point of that of a criminal, but the Word is not chained" (2 Tim. 2:8-9). In a week like this, I feel my chains, but keep moving by God's grace. The Word is not chained.
Yesterday, the session formally approved my sermon series on a book of the Bible featuring several other widows: Ruth. For the next four weeks, I hope to show how God works in and through our brokenness to great and glorious ends--if only we will open our eyes. Flyer below, and with that, I bid you all adieu and God's peace.
