"Welcome to Hell"

The Special Ops platoon was mostly rookies, so when they hit the ground, they were expected to make rookie mistakes. Except this one cost them mightily.

A woman carrying a baby raced toward them as soon as they landed, crying for help. A number of them raced to her aid. They didn't know. She exploded and took many of them with her.

As this was unfolding, two children came racing toward two of the other soldiers. They were the follow-on attack. The more experienced of the two soldiers aimed his weapon at one kid, then the other. Took them both out. He looked over at the inexperienced guy: "Welcome to Hell."

This story was recently relayed to me by a young vet who is now out of the Army. He was the inexperienced guy. The day he returned home, his three pre-teen nephews raced to greet them. He sprung into action and leveled all three of them, then choke-slammed his brother.

This vet just had his first kid and has to leave the house whenever the baby cries. His girlfriend often stays with her parents because she finds him scary. He seems to be getting worse. He scares himself.

I was really disturbed by this conversation. I grieve over the things this soldier had to do against an often inhuman enemy. I grieve over how the wounds have carried over into the very places where this soldier should find hope and healing.

And this all puts the lie to the ridiculous notion that other professions--teacher, peace corps, etc.--are as noble and sacrificial as being a soldier. Who amongst our citizen, have to delve so deep into the darkness to preserve just a bit of light?

Thankfully, the Lord in His grace does not allow this world to devolve into a veritable hell. He provides "common grace" (ordinary, as opposed to the "saving grace" that redeems sinners) remedies, like police to patrol the streets, doctors to treat diseases, soldiers to defend precious values and peoples, and an innate desire amongst many to not cave to the most base of their desires.

So how to you care for someone who has been an earthly version of Hell? Well, you let them speak of their hell. You allow them to paint the landscape in unflinching detail, and as they weep, you weep with them. Such tragedies deserve tears.

Over time, you want to help them plant trees and re-landscape their arid mental terrain. Show them things worth loving, and how those things can be enjoyed. Finally, point them vertically to Heaven, where a sovereign God still reigns over and cares for His world, and point them horizontally to His return--when all things hellish will be banished from the garden, and the landscape will be populated with life, love, holiness, and healing.

Much easier said than done. But in God's grace, it's a start.

Thank you to all who prayed for my drill weekend. We had the usual handful of soldiers for the morning chapel at my regular (headquarters) unit. I conducted another chapel at our Pewaukee unit on the way back and proclaimed the Gospel to perhaps 40 soldiers--an incredible number based on prior experience, and perhaps showing the hunger of a unit that rarely sees a chaplain!