Life on the Run

Sometimes I think I am on this internet thing too much, especially when I go through withdraw symptoms after going 12 hours without checking my email.

But sure enough, every little while, am important email springs up from something church-related, Army-related, freelance-related, or house-related--many of which are time-sensitive. Perhaps this validates my wife's insistence that I join the 21st century and get a smartphone.

In any case, I got one of those important emails the other night. The organizer of the the Menomonee Falls Running Club on meetup.com decided to step down, triggering a brief amount of time when someone else can step up into that role before the group is shut down. I immediately volunteered, and subsequently, am now the leader of the local group before even closing on a house.

My life is now out of order, or at least my plans for my new calling are a bit out of order. The first quarter is devoted to integration in both the life of the church and life of the community. Mostly reconnaissance and trust-building type of stuff. Nice and slow.

Volunteering for leadership roles in the community is a fourth quarter priority--meaning, next summer. It is funny how the Lord, in His holy, wise, and powerful providence, will rearrange things on me every time. Without a house for the first six weeks, all of my early hospitality plans have gone out the window. But, hey, I can go ahead and take over a group and its 120 local followers right away. I guess ordinary pencils still have their use--for making plans.

One irony in all of this is that I haven't run in three months. I will run for three months, culminating with a marathon or something similar, then will work myself ragged and will hardly move a muscle for the next three months. I actually rely on leadership roles to keep me motivated. I will run all year if I can help other runners in the process.

So I went for my first run yesterday, on another atypical 70 degree day in Wisconsin in November. I left the church, went south on Pilgrim Ave, then east on Good Hope Rd. I constantly had to switch sides of these major roadways in order to stay on the sidewalks (people treat shoulders like extra lanes here). I enjoy running by lush green fields as I made my way to Appleton Ave, which runs diagonally through town. Once on Appleton, I passed a number of shopping centers until I arrived at my desired destination--the Army recruiting station. Closed.

So I continued on my run northward on Appleton until I hit the intersection with Pilgrim, and took it south back to the church. I unintentionally ran 5.25 miles out of the gate and now have a preview of what soreness at age 50 will feel like (only 17 years away!). I will be hosting my first run here in the Falls on Veterans Day--a two mile out and back through our ample green spaces to simulate the Army PT test, just without the yelling. There's an open invite at the American Legion bar afterward.

Please pray for me in this new position of influence and opportunity to bring hope and grace to the lives of others in my own, broken only-by-the-grace-of-God sort of way. Feel free to join me if you live in the area! As with the larger race of life, there may be some pain involved, but also satisfaction.

The Unspoken Bond

This was only my third time, but when I entered the local Army recruiting station in my civilian clothes and barely adolescent beard, I was greeted by a chorus of greetings.

I didn't need to wear the uniform--they remember their own, and they remember their chaplains.

The first question I was asked: "Have any of our soldiers shown up at your church yet?"

Apparently, a number of them are looking for churches (good ol' Army with its middle-America culture) and want to visit! I told them I would love to see them there. I can honestly say that I love the church--the people are loving, and the preaching is warm, rich, and most important, biblical!

I cannot wait until our family moves into our new home. These soldiers will hopefully be unofficial uncles and aunts to our kids, and will always have a place at our table.

(I had a dear elder brother in the faith ask me today if my family eats beans six days a week so we can host others on the seventh. That has never been a problem. God has always provided plenty on all occasions. We have always been blessed by those who host us and serve leftovers--it shows that they are giving of what they have.)

While I share a unique bond with fellow soldiers, the rest of the church to which I belong also shares bonds in the community. Some gather with fellow trappers and hunters for a quality outing. Others have play dates with friends in their neighborhood. In all of these communal bonds, opportunities are in place to get deeper--to know others' struggles, yearnings, and beliefs. And in those deepening relationships, there are opportunities to share the truth of Christ--the hope for every broken sinner.

There is one deeper bond, and that is the one shared by those who know Jesus Christ. That bond transcends all others, for it is forged in divine blood. When we share the Gospel with others, we seek to bring new meaning to the term "blood brothers" and welcome people who may be very different from ourselves into the most intimate of relationships.

What is a camouflage uniform compared to the blood-washed robes of those belonging to such a great Savior?

Evangelist Update: A Torrent of Opportunities in the Falls

Greetings, Friends.

Since we're currently in the Dells, I am only able to get in to the Falls about once a week while my wife attends Community Bible Study and before my kids nap. Thus, I pack out every inch of my schedule with to-dos in the church and community. Thank God that we will return to Oconomowoc on Friday and I'll be able to commute in on a daily basis.

Here are the places I went today and handed out my business card and our church invitation cards:

1) U-Haul Storage Facility--chatted with one of the first people I met upon arriving--the manager of the facility. Decent guy, and runs the place with his wife. Look forward to getting to know them better. He seems to be pretty open with me when we chat.

2) Gents Barbership--the man who runs this place in the heart of the "downtown" excels at his craft and takes great pride in his work. We also became buds when he gave me my first haircut here. He is Greek, his wife is Dutch, and his mother-in-law is curmudgeonly. :) My business cards with Falls Pres now sit alongside the piles of cards of other local business owners near the front door.

3) Nino's Bakery--also located in the heart of downtown. I visited for the first time today, having already gotten to know two of the workers there on separate occasions. The place was founded and is run by a Sicilian family and they take pride in their bakery as a place where the local priest takes his parishioners to talk. Anyone want to join me there next week for a cup of Joe?

4) YMCA--amidst the rush (there were hundreds of cars in the Y parking lot), I reconnected with a believing friend who I met a few weeks back, and met a couple other workers. My friend would like prayer for her two boys--12 and 4.

Acouple dozen more cards bearing the name of "Falls Presbyterian Church" are floating through the bloodstream of the community.

We also handed out the church invitation cards this past Sunday morning during Sunday School and before and after the morning worship service. If you haven't picked yours up yet, please come by!

Remember: Contrary to the popular thinking of our day, faith is no private matter. Your beliefs--for better or for worse--are not only the most important thing about you, but they are you. They are not only the things you hold most dear, but they explain how you think, what you say, and what you do.

In order to love someone, you must first know them. In order to know them, you must know what they believe. And if you truly love them, you will share your hope in Jesus Christ with them--knowing that the Gospel alone is the power of salvation (Rom. 1).

The Vet and The Son Who Didn't Come Home

This afternoon, as my little ones were napping, I zipped down to a nearby sports bar, ordered a half-price daiquiri (mixed fruit was the flavor of choice), and barreled down on a long-term writing project. "What project," you ask? (You didn't ask, of course, but I wanted to ask the question for a sense of rhetorical flow.) I am writing a month-long devotional for Haven Ministries, a wonderful Christian ministry that has long held my wife in their employ. The devotional will be based on my experiences as deployed chaplain.

Naturally, such work deserves a daiquiri as I am reminded that two people who served over there with me are no longer with us. I also am reminded that the helpless infant crying in my arms when I left could stand and stare at me from his pack-and-play upon my return. Not that these things carry any bitterness, but they will always be wounds I sadly and proudly bare for the cause of sharing Christ with my soldiers and serving those who serve our country.

Any time I allow myself to dwell on that time, I get a bit on edge. There is just something so raw about that experience--a "something" that lodges in the heart and mind of every vet that never goes away. After working and writing for a few hours, I paid for my drink and walked toward the door, eyes a bit glassy as the old highlight reel of sights, sounds, and smells went coursing through my head.

I walked right by an older man in one of those decked out veterans vests, proudly displaying his time of service in the 101st Airborne and in Vietnam. I took a few more steps, stopped, and went back and introduced myself to him. I love finding fellow veterans, knowing that we share a bond. I especially love finding Vietnam vets so that I can thank them for enduring fire from home and the enemy. They made it so that soldiers today can proudly face the enemy without fear of attacks from home.

This veteran, like all the rest, is a hero. I googled him after our encounter, and found this tidbit about him: He "served in 1966-67 with the 173rd Airborne as a Combat Medic.  He is the only Medic to have made a Combat parachute jump during the Vietnam War." He didn't tell me any of that. Knowing that I am a chaplain, he simply said that he was the last face that many of our soldiers ever saw.

He also served alongside the heroic Catholic chaplain, Charles Watters. Chaplain Watters cared for this soldier, and cared for hundreds of other soldiers while under fire. He was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor--one of seven chaplains to ever receive that honor. You can find more about Chaplain Watters here.

This veteran has two sons who proudly wear the uniform. One just returned home from Afghanistan. He also had a son who died last year at age 30 from a medical illness exacerbated by alcoholism. This man tried to save his son, but couldn't. But he puts his hope in the God of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who has defeated death and will one day do away with it once and for all.

Before we parted ways, I prayed with this dear, heartsick veteran and father, largely along the lines of the picture and Bible verse he showed me from his son's funeral:

3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 4 ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21)

Until that Day, dear brother!

New Mission; New Cards

My new business cards and church invitation cards came in yesterday. They are black with some accents of blue and print in gray or white.

I will hand out my card to most everyone I meet, along with an offer of dinner at my house or simply time and space to talk. With these cards, people will get a small token of my affection for them.

I will hand out the church invitation cards to most anyone who is looking for a church, or might be willing to shadow the door of one at some point. With these cards, people will not only be invited into my heart and home, but in the hearts and homes of Christ's people.

While my time in town yesterday was brief, I was able to drop by the Army recruiting station with my new cards and personally invite each of those gentlemen into my house (starting 13 Nov) and to Christ's church.

One of the soldiers briefly attended college in Grand Rapids, down the street from my own college, and along with his wife, has stopped going to church. But he is willing and interested. Please pray that they would come to both our house and our church!

For those of you interested in the new invitation cards, we will be handing them out on Sunday at Falls Presbyterian, along with the challenge to hand several out to unbelieving friends, family, neighbors, or strangers in the course of the coming week.

This is not a full-fledged evangelistic campaign. It is the first act of what should be a wonderful play. In this first act, our people will become more comfortable with making their identity in Christ part and parcel of their everyday conversations and identity.

We will all fear and stumble at times for fear of giving offense and of what others might think of us.

But again, we're living to God's glory, even in our weakness. #AlwaysBeReady

Pictures on a Wall

Thank you to everyone who prayed for me and my unit today. On the two hour drive to the unit, I prayed that the Lord would bring just three soldiers to the chapel service. Three soldiers attended the service. I preached on the man born blind from John 9 and answered a lot of questions afterward.

I was brought to my new office and was shocked to see a name tape on the wall "1LT Randy Croel." Randy was one of my good chaplain friends in my initial training for the Army in 2009. We would often go on runs together. In 2011, we attended the captain's course together as well. This would've been just after our initial training--when we were both young, uncertain chaplains launching our careers in God's grace. I experienced a wave of something like nostalgia.

In the hallway between a number of offices and the chow hall, seven photos and short write-ups rested neatly framed upon the wall. These were seven men from this unit who were killed in action during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Four of them were lost to IEDs in Iraq in 2004--a brutal time for our soldiers. One of the men was a father of three. Another one was an elder at a Lutheran church who led Bible studies on the deployment until he was killed. This Bible study, the write-up mentioned, was a great source of strength to this soldier, according to many in the unit.

The final picture was of a soldier killed in 2011 in Afghanistan--two years before I deployed. He was just 22. Officially killed by "small arms fire."

My best exchange of the day came with an NCO with a Master's in Psychology who deployed with a segment of our unit in 2011. There was an edge to this soldier--a look I see sometimes in soldiers who have seen or experienced quite a bit downrange. Indeed, the segment of the unit he deployed with experienced IED blasts and small arms fire most every day. At times, the surrounding area experienced more concentrated action than at any point since WWII. The vast majority of the unit were awarded Purple Hearts (for those wounded in the line of duty).

This was also the unit where Justin Ross, the 22 year old soldier, was killed--by a sniper, not by small arms fire. The NCO still calls him "my soldier"--a poignant reminder of something special about the Army. No battle buddy killed in action in simply a picture on a wall, but "my soldier" to someone who will spend the rest of their life preserving that person's memory. In a sense, Dave Lyon was my soldier, which is why I'll speak of him until the day I die.

I found one comment made by this NCO particularly interesting. He said "I know it sounds weird--and don't take it the wrong way--but I think this soldier was the best person to die. His dad is a pastor and his family is very religious. Of all people, they are probably the ones who could most handle this."

I think I understand what he was saying. He wasn't diminishing the soldier's tragic loss, nor was he diminishing the pain felt by the family. He recognized that this pastor and his family had a hope that transcended death--that made it less bitter. For where, O grave, is thy victory? Where, O death, is thy sting? Please find more below on the life and death of Corporal Justin Ross and his family:

http://arlingtoncemetery.net/jdross.htm

http://www.wiscnews.com/article_b5b92579-edf1-5b07-baea-fbd088b718bc.html

https://www.facebook.com/ArmySpecialistJustinRossMemorialPage

Three Simple Requests

A week or so ago, I asked the Lord for one simple, specific request, and lo and behold, the Lord was pleased to graciously answer that request.

Today, on my first (unofficial) day with my new unit, I asked three simple things of the Lord on my 2 hour drive from the Dells to Eau Claire (beautiful, by the way):

1) Put one person in my path who can show me around and give me the lay of the land. A wonderful female NCO provided the answer to that prayer as soon as I walked in the door.

2) Enable me to reserve a time and room for a chapel service tomorrow (the first one conducted for the unit in about two years). It will be at 1100 CST in the classroom of the training site.

3) Use me to bless one soldier in particular today. I'm not sure how the Lord may have answered this prayer, though I had a lot of buoyant introductory chat-versations with soldiers.

Please pray for the chapel service tomorrow. Usually, these services draw 5-10 soldiers (the number balloons on deployments), often because of poor advertising and conflicting duties. Pray that the Lord would bring some believers and unbelievers, and we would all grow in our knowledge of and love for Jesus Christ through the power of His Word and Spirit.