Last month's Army drill weekend consisted of three days of trudging through the mud in order to visit with hundreds of soldiers. This month's drill packed three chapel/church services, a birthday party, and Army physical training into a grueling 36 hour period.
On Saturday morning, I conducted a chapel service for soldiers here at our Milwaukee unit. Only a handful were able to attend, so I was able to answer questions as we worked our way through the Bible passage. One of the questions that kept coming us is one of the fundamental ones for whole Christian faith: If the people knew Jesus was righteous (they did), that He performed miracles (they did), and that He claimed to be God and did things that only God could do (they did), then why did they kill him? I'll leave this question open-ended, but know the answer is unsettling and cries out for a resolution.
I then went home over my lunch break to help host our little girl's first birthday party. From there, I drove three and half hours to Eau Claire in order to make it before our unit's closing formation. I socialized with soldiers for a little while before heading over to a ratty motel to watch election results, talk to my wife, and prepare for the next day.
Sunday morning got off to a bizarre start when a drunk man at the hotel thanked me for my service and then asked me for a ride for both him and his buddy. Leaving right away, I figured I could get them where they wanted to go and back to the unit just in time. I dropped them off at a laundromat where they were supposedly meeting up with a woman. Why? Don't know; don't care. All they'll remember amidst their hangover is that some Army chaplain cared for them.
I led an early, somewhat impromptu chapel in one of our company offices. Only one female soldier was able to make it, which enabled us to have a more personal time of interaction over the passage. The officer who worked in the office stayed in there during our informal chapel and remarked that he appreciated knowing more of the history and background behind Jesus' trial. I asked him about his religious background--his mom is Lutheran and his dad a Jehovah's witness. He was largely raised outside of the church.
He didn't believe much of Christianity, but liked to learn about the history. It was fascinating, like something for the History Channel. He just didn't give much credibility to the supernatural stuff since he had come to learn about Science (intentionally capitalized, since as usual the physical sciences are being given religious weight).
I told this young officer that the fact that is occurred in history is critical, but that we also can't rule out the supernatural component because of Science. I repeated my constant claim--our interpretation of the physical sciences--along with everything else---are rooted in a philosophy. In this case, most people root their view of the physical sciences in empiricism--the belief that truth can only be measured by the senses (as astonishing faith claim). He saw my point--not even clear and compelling logic can lead to truth if all truth has to be put under the microscope.
As with the questioning soldiers in Milwaukee, a common thread woven throughout the weekend is that we all need to understand why we believe what we believe. The best things to put under the microscope are our own hidden assumptions concerning the nature of God, man, the world, and how it is that we can know something.
The conversation had to be cut short as I needed to race off to a local OPC church plant to conduct their worship service (for the second day in a row, a pretty crazy lunch break). It was a wonderful and humbling experience as I got to proclaim God's Word to His people in a movie theater! I then enjoyed a brief bite of lunch with one of the families in the church.
I started off the afternoon by reading a recently-published brigade memorandum on suicide prevention to the unit and followed up by advertising our Army marriage retreats. These two things are closely tied together. Most suicides are not caused by hard circumstances, but by the process through which we interpret those circumstances and the lack of a relationships to help carry us through hard times. The most important thing we can do to prevent suicide is building stronger webs of relationships, including stronger marriages.
One hour later, I was on a nearby quarter-mile race track, running warm-up laps for a surprise diagnostic test of our physical fitness. This was not the test that they officially record, which will be in May and includes 2 minutes of push-ups, 2 minutes of sit-ups, and 2 mile run. Instead, this was a 1-1-1 to assess where we are at. I put on almost 10 pounds of Wisconsin weight in my first couple of months here, and only started to run again over the past month as my running group gained traction.
I did 53 sit-ups (tied for first), 70 push-ups (first), and ran a 6:45 mile (third--almost caught second). These numbers were promising, but not where I want them to be (except push-ups). I need to improve my sit-ups and run by our May test. I can, and by God's grace, I will. This is tied to my chaplain ministry--and both my performance yesterday and my care for soldiers throughout the diagnostic opened up conversations. A former Army Ranger walked with me the whole way back to the unit, asking me about the exact role of a chaplain.
The day ran late (as usual), and darkness quickly descended on my three and a half hour drive back. I stuffed my face with greasy fast food to replenish the calories I burned and felt disgusting. The duration of the drive after a workout also left me very sore and uncomfortable. I got home at 8:45pm, and though I'm a late night hawk, I went to bed within an hour.
A couple of lessons learned:
1) Don't do the long drive two days in a row. All driving and no talking make Stephen go crazy.
2) Workout + lots of fast food + hours of driving = Yuk.
3) Even drunk people in Wisconsin are very respectful toward soldiers.
4) The Lord will strengthen me for everything to which He calls me, but that doesn't mean I will feel strong before, during, or after.
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