The Liberation Trilogy: A Eulogy Written in Blood

Last night, due to overcaffeination and constant activity, I couldn't fall asleep. So I flipped my reading light on and spent a couple more hours reading toward the end of the final book in Rick Atkinson's Liberation Trilogy on WWII. Awoken by my alarm at 0525 to prep my team of volunteers, I groggily conducted my first 5k (with twenty participants).

As I proceed through another day with heavier eyelids, I also proceed with a heavier heart, filled with the weight of war. Rick Atkinson has imposed that burden upon me, for which I am thankful. In fact, the great writer and thinker, George Will, expressed a similar sentiment today in the Post: http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/george-will-rick-atkinsons-unsparing-history-of-world-war-ii/2013/08/30/fb942f5c-10cb-11e3-b4cb-fd7ce041d814_story.html.

I cannot aspire to Will's eloquence (though he starts his article with the same arresting quote that I memorized on the spot for any future memoral service I conduct), but I can at least give one layman's peek behind the curtain of great history disguised as masterful literature.

On V-E (Victory in Europe) Day, while masses cheered in the States, US troops in Europe were adrift and aimless. They strolled through lush orchards and burnt hillsides, alongside architectural marvels now reduced to rubble, and felt nothing. There was no elation, joy, or relief--no victory party for the average soldier. They had walked through hell to get to heaven, and having arrived at their destination, found few of their friends alongside them to bask in the glow. Their ability to reflect was buried with their battle buddy beneath a cross or star of David.

Many a chapter and section in these books end with a tender letter home from a young man to his wife or mother, looking forward to a future resplendant with renewed love and beautiful children. I came to dread such portions of these books, because this letter would inevitably be followed by something like "But Private First Class Wilson would never again picnic with his young wife as he had hoped. He would be dead from shrapnel wounds in the Ardennes two weeks later."

General Patton was emblematic of the American soldier--courageous and compassionate. He might well be remembered for his slapping of two mentally broken soldiers on Crete, but one should not forget the weeping outside of the medical tents holding his soldiers, or the vomiting at the sight of a liberated concentration camp.

It was this latter reality that enabled the battle-wearied American soldier to run the war through to its course. After losing all sense of why he was fighting this war, the American soldier would stumble upon a place like Bergen-Belsen, sob or shoot a German guard in blind fury, and confess "Now I know." The wells of Western compassion overflowed for the millions of precious lives obliterated with denomic precision--the ovens and gas chambers, the baby slippers and children's shoes, the Rape of Nanking, and the ripping open of pregnant Philippino women and bayoneting of their babies. And the wells ran dry for the perpetrators of these atrocities and the cultures that permitted them.

Rarely in history has the division between good and evil in war been so clear cut. Atrocities were the punished exception for the West. They were the norm for two of the most sadistic leaders and calloused cultures. Only the shadow of the sickle that settled over the Soviet Union, China, and other communist nations would challenge the mantle of evil clearly held by Hitler and Tojo.

And that moral conviction--a conviction often lost in today's society--is what enabled normal men to become heroes. Yes, they fought for each other. But they also fought for the woman and baby in this photo:

(And, yes, this young Jewish woman is trying to shield her baby, but to no avail.)

Close to 420,000 American soldiers died in World War Two (compared with about 10,000 for the two conflicts of the past decade)--most in horrible and lonely ways. But they died for a noble cause.

In the wake of the great wars, cynical generations have sought to deny the glory that comes with war. Yet, history now hangs a wreath upon the head of the allied victors in World War Two. But few soldiers will ever realize that glory in their own day--a day marked by bitter emptiness at the loss of so many after so few years of life. Glory belongs to the dead, not the living.

“The saviors come not home tonight: Themselves they could not save.”

Random Tidbits

I intentionally make Sunday my LBR (low battle rhythm) day, due to the fact that unlike other soldiers, I don't get to start late on Fridays (early morning meeting) or Sundays (lead worship service). And, as might be expected for a number of reasons, leading a worship service is exhausting. So I try to make Sunday afternoons more relaxed (try to read a bit, catch up on emails). Of course, I never close my office door (unless I have a male counselee), so my reality often doesn't meet the expectations of my ambition. I love soldiers, so I can't complain when my relaxation is interrupted!

I ran my second half marathon out here last night in 1:49:30, almost twenty minutes better than my initial run (2:07:15), which was conducted a few days after arriving in this high-altitude, poorly ventilated environment. My goal for my next race is 1:44 (under 8 minute pace), and by the end of deployment, I want to at least get close to 1:30 (under 7 minute pace). Once I get back to normal altitude in the US, I should be able to fly! Since we're tracking with the Rock and Roll series, we'll be racing most every weekend from now until mid-November.

As of a week or two ago, I became the Run Master of this post, and as of today, I became the coordinator of the half marathon series (signified by the passing of the leftover t-shirts and medals). I will lead conduct my first ever race tomorrow--a Labor Day 5k. I am also coordinating the Army Ten Miler in a couple of weeks. Due to the small size of the post, all of the runs must be conducted on treadmills. Normally, this might seem easier due to the flat distance (though it's also much more monotonous), but the altitude and air quality most certainly make it more difficult.

I said "goodbye" to my African friend last night. She thanked me profusely for all of my care for her. I counseled her more than any other soldier during this deployment. That makes it additionally sad for me that she is now gone. She is not only a friend, but an object of my prayers and labors. It's like saying "goodbye" to the first quarter of my first ever deployment. Thankfully, she lives in NoVa, which means she'll make my "Summer Soldier BBQ" next summer and hopefully visit my church.

Speaking of which, I am on a relentless drive to convince soldiers to move to my area of NoVa. I make a pretty convicing case, and I think some of them are actively thinking about it.

It saddens me whenever someone (especially someone who should know better) says "The Gospel is..." and doesn't finish the sentence with "...Jesus Christ's saving work for sinners." There is mass confusion concerning law and Gospel within the Church right now. The Gospel is not a lifestyle, or loving people, or being changed, or living by faith. The Gospel has nothing to do with our works. Otherwise, the Gospel would be horrible news because our good deeds are like filthy rags before the Lord (Is. 64), not one of us does good (Ps. 14; Rom. 3), and the wages of sin is death (Rom. 6). If the Gospel is any of the things above, then we are all damned. The Gospel is what Christ did in our place--He became sin who knew no sin, so we might be the righteousness of God (2 Cor. 5). The law reveals God's standard for righteousness, condemns sin and thus drives sinners to the cross, and order the life saved by the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It does not save. Only Jesus saves.

I finished a great psychological book, Love's Executioner, by Irving Yalom, recently. In the next several days, I will finish the final book in the excellent WWII trilogy written by Rick Atkinson. Expect reviews of both LE and the trilogy in the coming week.

Not sure I mentioned it before, but I traveled to a western portion of the country recently to visit some of our soldiers. I have now traveled through several modes that I have never traveled through before (the perks of traveling with someone of high rank!). But, having now traveled to a couple of distant places in scenic Afghanistan, I think I can reduce the landscape to two words: Brown and bare. Something tells me that the new heavens and earth will be a bit more lush...

A Dry, Rainy Day

"By the waters of Babylon,
there we sat down and wept,
when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there
we hung our lyres.
For there our captors
required of us songs,
and our tormentors, mirth, saying,
"Sing us one of the songs of Zion!"
How shall we sing the LORD's song
in a foreign land? (Psalm 137:1-4)

This Psalm always grips me. I know the feeling of trying to sing when consumed with sorrow. I can't. I can listen and open my heart to the Gospel, but I have a hard time singing. I had two experiences in the last twenty hours that play the silent songs of the willow-bound lyre.

Last night, as I was talking with my roommate about his little daughter, he confessed, as he does every so often, that he misses her. He often has jokes and likes to bluster, but every so often, his daughter strikes that silent chord.

And then I turned the lights out and thought of my own little boy. I thought of those first three weeks with him. My dear wife was exhausted from his cluster feedings. In order to help her get a little more sleep, I would stay up for a few extra hours with him each night, walking him around the house, rocking him, and letting him sleep on my chest. I loved doing it. (I think I get that from my mom, who used to rock me to sleep in the dark when I was very little.) It remains one of my most cherished memories--me and my little boy in the quiet of the night. I even loved when he would scrunch up his face and "Waah" right in my ear. He was adorable.

Now I see him in pictures or on FaceTime. I watch him roll for the first time, or fall asleep on my dear wife, though he is now half her size. I hear about how he is the happiest baby that people have met, and the smile that I made at him every night for three weeks is now the smile he bears. I listen to him try to talk to me and reach toward the screen, catching only air. My dear wife could use a little less time with the little one; I could use a lot more. And I am reminded in vivid terms how we were created and united to do this together. Last night, I struck that silent chord.

Today, I met with my African friend. She is one of my closer friends here. She will soon be going home for medical reasons. We have sat together many times and shared stories, smiles and tears. And today, as she prepares to leave, she shared with me one of the great secrets of her past. It is a secret that cannot be shared, but it cries from the ground with the blood of Abel. It screams with the agony of life in a broken and chaotic world, mercilessly torn apart at its most vulnerable points. "How long, Oh Lord?" He is coming soon, with judgment and mercy in His wings. On that day, He will wipe every day from the eyes of His beloved. Even so, come Lord Jesus, come. Another silent chord.

And as long as our fleeting lives abide upon this vale of tears--this foreign land--we will continue to hang the lyres upon the trees. But on that Day--that great and glorious Day--the eternal victory of Christ will give way to an anthem that will make the world pulsate. How I rejoice at the thought!

Marriage

There are few issues that touch me deeper than divorce. I have walked with countless friends through their parents' divorce--the initial shock, the grief, anger and guilt, the separate birthdays and holidays, the step-parents and step-siblings, the awkward marriage ceremony with divided parents. I have watched relatives get torn apart by divorce. I have watched fortified families within the Church get reduced to rubble.

I have one soldier who told me at the beginning of this deployment that he wanted a divorce. He was tired of having to put up with his wife. Other soldiers--all of whom have been burned through divorce--encouraged him to do it as soon as possible to minimize his legal/economic losses. I told him to fight like hell for his wife, not against her. Of what value is money if the thing that it is meant to materially secure--marriage--is destroyed? Trying to save a bit more for child support, knowing that such support supplements only getting to see the kids every other weekend?

I understand the bitterness of many of my soldiers. Quite a few were married for ten to twenty years before, in sudden and heartbreaking fashion, their wives dropped the "D" bomb. Most of these solders were ready and willing to fight for their marriages, but their wives were not. Most of them, like people I love who have gotten divorced, became shells of their former selves for the initial year or so in the wake of the bomb. The fantasy of a lifelong marriage now rendered an illusion. The best friend/"meta-partner," gone. The unbreakable bond of love, shattered. The family picture forever turn asunder. No wonder they're bitter!

And in the twilight of life, one has to wonder whether such a devastating decision was worth it. Was the grass truly greener on the other side? Does the wound of one flesh torn apart ever really heal?

It is easy to think the grass is greener on the other side from the inside of a marriage. Heck! What is marriage? It is the intentional, lifelong joining of two sinners into a blessed union that runs so deep, they can be considered one flesh. It is by nature a hard union, but sanctifying, and well worth every hard-fought gain. Relationships outside of marriage are a lot easier. One can appreciate the beauty and comraderie without the commitment. One can appreciate a casual friendship without the exposure of bearing one's soul. One can supposedly get all of the perks without any of the drawbacks.

Except one. Only in marriage can one be secured in love that reaches down to the dark, broken core. It is hard because such profound love by such broken creatures necessitates profound grace and effort. I can offer someone my body and my friendship, or I can offer someone my life. It is a terrifying prospect to offer a life, but is that giving, and taking another life upon your own, that draws together that breathtaking picture of God's love for His people in Christ Jesus.

I have one soldier who cheated on his borish wife with a woman who "gets him." Of course she gets him--she doesn't have to live with him. He has forsaken the harder, more worthwhile love, for the easier, cheaper love that lacks lifelong, sacrificial commitment. Meanwhile, a borish wife is back home, helping take care of the kids that are walking reminders of two people becoming one flesh.

Some practical lessons I am learning with regard to my own marriage:
1) I must be intentional about praising my wife every day.
2) I should never assume that she knows my heart for her--I must show it.
3) If I learn something new about myself, share it with her.
4) In hard discussions, express appreciation for something good and true about her position.
5) Leading my wife means proactively caring for her.
6) She must know she is more than a friend, but the sole object of my earthly affection.
7) I cannot love her as Christ loves the Church. But He can. And I can love better in that knowledge.
8) Protecting my wife also means honoring her and promoting her virtues.
9) I must always attack problems and not my wife. If I think ill of my wife, I will speak ill of her.
10) Teaching my wife means helping her to learn and own the truth on her own, alongside of me.

Father, in Your grace, give me the wisdom to not only make my marriage flourish, but to guard the marriages of those that are within my ability to help, by your Spirit's power and for the sake of Jesus Christ, my Lord. Amen.

Seeking a Better Country

Someone wrote recently that good preaching attracts a person to a church and a good community keeps them there. There is much wisdom in that remark.

We all desire to be loved and accepted. Cheap substitutes are often used to fulfill that desire, but it is a true and profound desire nonetheless. God declared that it was not good for man to be alone. That is why He made woman. Ultimately, man is most fulfilled when he belongs body and soul, in life and death, to Jesus Christ. It is then that he finds his place in humble submission and joy as a child of the living God--always belonging to Him. In addition, he finds his place in humility and joy amongst God's people, fellow sinners saved by grace.

We all seek a better country. Of course we would, considering the broken and vile state of this creation under the oppressive influence of sin. And while that country exists beyond the waters of this present life, it should be experienced in sin-tainted and shadowy from within the confines of the Church. Boaz recognized that Ruth had taken refuge in the wings of the Lord. Yet, later, Ruth could ask to enjoy the wings of Boaz.

But, sinners that we are, we struggle to spread our wings over others. We are busy. We prefer abstract discussions of doctrinal truth (which is valuable). We focus on our families as if they're our only mission. We engage in superficialities because we are scared to plumb the depths of our hearts. We avoid the suffering because they demand so much of us and remind us of our own morality. We shirk away from opportunities to share the Gospel because people are so easily offended, and we can be so easily liked if we simply sweep these things under the rug.

As Christians, we should feel the irresistible pull to pour ourselves out for the sake the Gospel. Though our sin tempers our enthusiasm, we find ourselves truly living when we are radical in our love. We take risks--opening up about our own sin and pain and taking a chance with a conversation about the Gospel. We sacrifice--visiting those who suffer or are in grief and in patiently serving others. Stepping out in this way is often the last thing we want to do, but it always turns into the thing we least regret.

As I, in my present role, struggle to find those intimate, vulnerable bonds of accountability and encouragement in Christ, I think back to my church body. And I wonder how I can better cultivate those bonds upon my return. Am I really opening up to others? Do I really know others on a deep level? Is there security to embrace the precious brokenness of true familial relationships? I am an undershepherd who often knows very little about the sheep.

Praise God! Jesus knows His sheep. He calls them by name. They are His. Now I must further endeavor to know the flock and be known by them. And I must labor with others to promote an environment where a toleration of the superficial gives way to a love of sinners.

I love because He first loved me.

Good Preaching

As good friends of mine search for a church, I am reminded how hard it is to weigh the matters that our important to us in a church, particularly with regard to preaching. That is why I appreciated my friend who was here for several weeks. She had a keen grasp on what good preaching looks like.

And we must remember that the preaching of the Word is the single most important part of a church. Other things like fellowship, liturgy, music, outreach, service, etc. are very important as well, but the fundamental reason we go to church is to hear from God through His ambassador in the pulpit. Everything else that we do as a body flows from his powerful and personal address to us.

But how do we recognize good preaching, especially in an ear-tickling age when we're "seeker sensitive," dominated by political and social causes, and have seven principles for everything? This is an important question, because the guardians of the pulpit are not often committed to faithful preaching, which means that, as God's people, we must be.

Thus, I have seven principles/questions for distinguishing good preaching. :)

1) Is God's Word the content of the preaching? We all know that the power of preaching is found in God's Word. Yet many sermons today are filled with fluff--with testimonies, personal anecdotes, and funny illustrations. These things are all great--as long as they are shining the light back on the truths found in the passage. If you want to hear my word, give me a glass of wine and ask me about politics, philosophy, psychology, or culture. If I'm preaching from Psalm 91 on the Lord's Day, you better come away with a better knowledge of Psalm 91, not me.

2) Is God's Word being placed in its proper context? In other words, if I am preaching on the aftermath of David's affair with Bathsheeba, it would probably be good for you to know some background on David's life and his relationship with the Lord, or perhaps a little more about the martyr, Uriah (i.e., he was one of David's mighty men), or perhaps a history of the Amorites, who the Israelites were fighting. These contextual considerations include extra-biblical history as well if it pertains to the passage--geography, culture, etc. We know a lot more about covenants like the one made with Abraham (Gen. 15) because of ancient Near East Suzerain-Vassal Treaties.

3) Are the hard themes--God's holiness, the Law, man's sin, judgment, death, and Hell--preached? These themes are often skipped over today, but they are essential to a proper understanding of the Gospel! Jesus said He came for the sick, not the healthy; sinners, not the righteous. These themes are also presented in various forms in every passage. For example, "Love your neighbor as yourself," is not an expression of grace, but of law. As such, it refers to God's perfect love, His demand for perfect law, our fallen, hateful hearts, and the judgment we deserve. This all points to the Gospel, of course.

4) Is God's Word preached with Jesus Christ as the focus? In Luke 24, Jesus walked through the Old Testament with the depressed disciples on the Road to Emmaus and declared they all testified to Him. The book of Hebrews makes a similar point, in showing how the OT continually testified to Christ through various types and shadows. Every passage is centered on Jesus Christ. Thus, we have a logical progression of understanding God's Word so far--start with the historical context and then show how the passage points to Christ. To ignore the context is to fall into the trap of "allegory," which removes the truths from their proper historical place. To ignore Christ is to fall into the trap of "moralism," which makes a passage fundamentally about me and the moral lessons I learn (i.e. "Dare to be a Daniel").

5) Is God's Word addressed to God's people? This can be a difficulty for some of those who have learned the power and beauty of preaching Christ crucified. The law not only drives us to the cross, but then regulates the Christian life. It is thus appropriate, after presenting this historical context and showing how the passage points to Christ, to bring it to bear upon the heart of the sinner. And God's Word was not spoken into the wind, to be carried away and ignored--it is given to His people. They are directly addressed, held accountable, convicted of their sin, and comforted by the Gospel.

6) Is God's Word used to call people to repentance today? I wouldn't say that this is an essential ingredient for preaching every week, but is useful to mingle conviction and comfort at the close of a sermon. God's people need to know that they can rest in the Gospel, but also that they should stand in the grace they've been given (Rom. 5). Our hearts should always feel a bit wounded by God's Word as it operates upon us and as a result, more eager and grateful for the salve of the Gospel.

7) Most important: Is the person and work of Jesus Christ and the way of salvation clearly presented? This is what my message boils down to fellow chaplains and chaplain candidates of various denominational backgrounds. Even with the resurgence of Reformed theology in the chaplaincy and the country at large, there are still a good many preachers who will only preach their own experience, "cheap grace," dry doctrines apart from their meaning and effect, and moral lessons. What I ask every (evangelical) chaplain--after I ask if they themselves believe in Jesus as their Savior from sin--is if they preach it. The masses cry out as they did in Acts 2, "What must I do to be saved?" We must have a ready answer. If, at the end of a sermon, a preacher has not communicated the basics of the Gospel, then he has failed in his most basic responsibility and will be held to account.

Friends, I hope these principles prove useful to you as humbly engage the preaching of God's Word. It is a tragedy that these questions even need to be asked. My hope is that we will all find churches where, confident in the faithful preaching of the Gospel, we can simply submit to the Word of God as God speaks to us, and be transformed unto the image of Christ by the power of the Spirit and to the glory of the name of the Lord Almighty.

The Ugly Bride

It is easy to pile invective upon the Church or casually dismiss her importance and value.

"I like Christianity, just not the people."
"I would follow Christ, but for the Christians."
"I am spiritual, but not religious."
"The Church is a mess..."
"All the Church needs is (fill the blank)."

It is easy to parrot these lines. In fact, we all do it. Few of us, in our frustration with a broken world, are willing to strike out against God, so the blow falls upon His servant Abel. The Church is an easy target for one's frustrations with God and the world.

This is what turns everyone in the pew into a armchair critic, often with resentment and gossip. This what turns every seminarian into an idolatrous idealist--intent upon rectifying all that is ill. It is what hardens the aged pastor, who looks out upon a broken people and sees a mirror upon his own brokenness as an undershepherd. Of course, these are all pessmistic caricatures. Satan stirs up the hearts of us all to judge God's work by the brokenness of His people rather than the bounty and beauty of His powerful work in their hearts.

As a young pastor, I am beginning to truly comprehend the wonderful, horrendous calling upon the pastor. My idolatrous idealism is progressively and graciously being dashed against the rocks of the real world. Otherwise, like so many others, I would become another casualty of the pulpit (as so many are). Broken marriages, gossip, stagnation, obstinacy, self-righteousness, complacency--all of these things weigh upon my heart. Every perceived failure, setback, or inability to move forward is felt within my bones.

And in all these things, a mirror is placed before my own heart and I am found desperately wanting. In this overwhelming conviction, I find the God-ordained pathway toward greater Spirit-wrought maturation. My insecurities erode in waves of sanctification; my insufficiences in cries of helpless dependence.

These are three lessons that I am learning with regard to my own growth and that of the church, by God's grace:

1) Prayer. It is not a simple act, but a means of grace and a lifestyle. I must not simply approach the throne of grace, but live there, even in my broken estate. It is through prayer that I realize I am always at the end of myself and the beginning of life in Christ. It is through prayer, alongside of the other means of grace, that God transforms my heart to love His people in their brokenness, my mind to savor the Truth I proclaim, and my eyes to see His sovereign hand at work. This subsequently leads to the next lesson.

2) Providence. As mentioned earlier, it is incredibly easy to judge God's work by man's skewed standards. I do this all of the time! God does not operate on my timetable, which is of profound comfort, as I do not share in His omnipotence, wisdom, and compassion. One soldier here recently told me that the Church is in bad shape because we are not doing the miracles that God has called us to do. Aside from the faulty theology, this view betrays a profound lack of trust in God's providence. God continually strengthens His people in their sin and will use them for His sake.

3) Productivity. I must labor to equip the saints to lose themselves, even as God has equipped me to lose myself. God's providence, with His power and goodness in Christ, frees His people from their sinful impulses to do great work for His sake. It also leaves us with no excuse not to act. Our sin and our failings do not render our cause hopeless. Hope abounds. And in prayer, outreach, and service, we demonstrate our trust in His providence. These things all require us to lose ourselves for His sake. Without them, we confess Christ and bid Him make use of others who are "so inclined." We celebrate at the feast of His eventual victory, but fail to taste the fruits that make life meaningful.

Jesus Christ loved His ugly bride so much that He poured out His own blood to wash her clean and wash her white as snow. May I not assail she who has been purchased by His own blood. And may I seek daily to add to her number. In the schoolhouse of prayer, I learn anew to pour myself out for the Gospel, clinging to His gracious providence, and am thus made fit for His service by His Spirit's power and for Christ's sake.