Putting Politics Into Perspective

I was asked to offer a prayer at a local political gathering and I in turn asked to give a meditation just before the prayer. Here were my remarks (as best as I can remember them):

"Two notable political events happened a few days ago in Iowa: Terry Branstad, the popular Republican governor, issued his endorsement: Anybody but Cruz. Later in the day, Sarah Palin endorsed Donald Trump.

A third thing happened that day that was perhaps not as notable, but certainly more meaningful. An atheist at a Marco Rubio gathering challenged him about his religious rhetoric and asked him if he was running for 'Pastor-in-chief.'

Rubio responded with a brief presentation on the Gospel. He spoke of the Gospel as a free gift--one that cannot be coerced. But he also said that his faith was vital to his work. It reminds him that he is living for eternity, so small things, like being a good husband and father, are far more important than being President.

(See video here: https://youtu.be/Qy2Fjk00tTA )

Living in light of eternity--that is what makes political engagement a happy and hopeful task rather than an angry one. A great theologian about a hundred years ago (J. Gresham Machen) said that we cannot hope to move the world if we think that this world is all. In order to move the world, we must first have a place to stand.

That place to stand is on the truth of God's Word and the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is these central truths that enable us to be "happy warriors," and if God so allows, people who can move the world."

Here is your gut check, friends: Do you get heartburn or lose sleep over the state of our culture or political system? Perhaps you have turned your politics into your religion. It's an easy thing to do.

God reigns over every kingdom and His grace in various ways permeates every place and every time through Jesus Christ. Why not focus on that fact before focusing on the task at hand?

You may find that you are the task, and God's is the hand.

SPC Serpa: One Year Later

Photo taken by SPC Matthew Serpa when our plane touched down in Afghanistan. Most of those seated her around him were part of his unit--the 55th Sustainment Brigade.

On September 11th, 2001, hijacked airplanes struck the World Trade Center, Pentagon, and a field in rural Pennsylvania. One of the rallying cries of American patriots after that day was "Let's roll," the last words recorded from one of the heroes who fought the attackers on the plane that went down. Matt Serpa was 9 years old when that all unfolded.

Nine years later, straight out of high school, Matt Serpa joined the United States Army and was assigned to the 55th Sustainment Brigade at Ft. Belvoir, VA. He drilled with the unit prior to Basic Training and thus wore "civvies" (civilian clothes) instead of the uniform. His baby face could not mask his uncanny intelligence and wit. He convinced a long-time soldier that he was a reporter and asked him a series of probing questions. Obviously, Serpa had a since of humor as well.

As Serpa quickly ascended the lower enlisted ranks, he also quickly gained a place at the DFAC (dining facility) tables where the deeper discussions were held. Outside the DFAC, he knew how to take orders without asking "Why?" Within the DFAC, his natural skepticism and intellectual curiosity made "Why?" his automatic response to any assertion.

He was always a bit reclusive, often choosing to venture out on his own during free time, or listen to music alone on his bunk at night. But he was loved. When the soldiers of the deployment element of the 55th were given their assignments for Afghanistan, he learned that he would be sent to Camp Spann in the north, along with MSG McKissick and SFC Creamer--both wily vets with extensive experience in the military. Both of them took Specialist Serpa under their wing--a mother and father of sorts for the youngest kid in our unit.

When I traveled north to visit my soldiers at Camp Spann, I mostly spent time with Serpa. We went for walks together and ate pizza together. He told me about how much a group of older, cigar smoking Canadians and Americans meant to him. One Canadian officer recalls the depths of the conversations he enjoyed with Serpa then. He was impressed by Serpa's breadth of life experiences at the age of 20, but also felt it his job with some of the other older men to educate Serpa on the great music that pre-dated him.

Serpa turned 21 in Afghanistan--an event that usually provokes a raucous party. Instead, he enjoyed "near beer" with Americans, Canadians, Germans, and others in Afghanistan.

Specialist Serpa returned with a third of our unit in January of 2014 as part of the draw down (reduction of forces) in Afghanistan. 152 of us deployed to Afghanistan together. All 152 would return home, but only about 30 were in this group. The number was then whittled to 3, as Serpa, MSG McKissick and I hopped aboard a plane on an unusually icy day at Ft. Hood for home.

We enjoyed first class on that flight, and were honored when a flight attendant announced that we were returning home from Afghanistan. The moment was fleeting, however. When we got of the airplane, Serpa went to a catch a taxi and went out into the night, alone.

Being the intelligent, tech-savvy entrepreneur that he was, Serpa was soon accepted at Columbia University. Once there, he joined a fraternity and switched roles from young underling in the Army to worldly counselor for your undergrads. One of his fraternity brothers described Serpa as full of ideas, and always welcoming to those young collegians who needed to talk. This was a side of Serpa not often witnessed by his fellow soldiers, but one that was probably brought to the fore by his deployment experiences.

Unfortunately, deployments don't only reveal sterling attributes, but long dormant heartaches as well. The effects are often unpredictable:

• 

  1/17, 6:37am

  Matt Serpa

  Hey CPT Roberts, are you free to chat sometime?

  What is your phone #
• 

  1/17, 8:01am

  Stephen Roberts

  Hey Matt, I certainly am. My number is 240-281-8415. If I miss your call, please leave me a voicemail so I will know to get back to you! Look forward to talking with you, brother.

Most of our soldiers had gone their separate ways and I had lost contact with Serpa. I did not know of his burden, of the weight of his struggles. I looked forward to catching up with this kid I had known since his first day in the Army.

Three days later--one year ago, today--SPC Matt Serpa was dead.

****************************************************************************

Matt Serpa was a casualty of war--not simply the War on Terror, but the war experienced in every human heart, soul, and mind between the original dignity imprinted upon them and the brokenness wrought by mankind's fall from God. But Serpa was not the greatest casualty in this story. We are the greatest casualties. The people who now live with his death. Even in writing this tribute, I felt the old weight of grief returning and had to stop writing.

For some of you, Serpa's death may have left you in utter darkness--depressed and incurably bitter over his loss. Staying in such a state is a disservice to Serpa's memory. The brokenness of this world has not entirely obscured its original beauty, and the brokenness of Serpa's final hours do not entirely obscure the beauty of his life. Those 22 years were a precious gift for him and for us.

For others of you, there may be a temptation to sweep away the brokenness in the false beauty of cliches and hollow comforts. That too is a disservice to Serpa's memory.The beauty does not obscure the brokenness. The world was created through Jesus Christ, the Son of God, in infinite and impeccable beauty. This fact was the basis for Christ's heaving sobs at the tomb of Lazarus, his friend. The tomb not only representing the loss of that precious person, but the loss of so much beauty, life, and love in this world. Nobody knew that more than Jesus.

The most healthy and appropriate response to the loss of Serpa is to bind the beauty and brokenness together, as the loving purposes of God were bound together with the evil purposes of man in the crucifixion of God's only beloved Son--the savior of sinners. Christ didn't simply weep at the tomb of Lazarus--He raised him from the dead and bore His own tomb. He overcame death with the beauty of His own brokenness, so that we can cry "Where, O death, is thy sting? Where, O grave, is they victory?" So now, in Christ, we may (and certainly must) grieve, but we can now do so with inexhaustible hope.

Around the time of Serpa's death, three of our deploying soldiers (myself included) had beautiful baby daughters. One soldier whose wedding I conducted prior to the deployment just had her first little one. I conducted two weddings for soldiers in our unit, and another soldier happily married a great gal down in South Carolina. In all these things, we remember that "love is strong as death" (Son of Songs 8). And Christ is the life-giving pinnacle of that truth.

*****************************************************************************

Roll Call:

(In the Army this forms part of the memorial ceremony offered for our soldiers.)

WO1 Rainey. Present.
SPC Rojas. Present.
CPT Roberts. Present.
SPC Ruelas. Present.
SPC Serpa. (Silence)

SPC Matthew Serpa. (Silence)

SPC Matthew Serpa died on January 20th, 2015. He was a son, brother, friend, and battle buddy. Most important, he was loved. And he will be missed.

Deep Disappointment and Simple Graces

It has been a tough week. In fact, that is probably why I have not written until now.

As you know from my "Welcome to Hell" post, I was bearing some pretty heavy burdens from last weekend's Army drill. Meanwhile, my wife was at her wit's end with the unending demands of parenting and her husband nowhere in sight. Naturally, our reunion was not the thing of fairy tales.

But we got down and dirty and started to work things out. My wife and I are best friends and we have always been able to talk, by God's grace. Like all other couples, we face constant hardships, misunderstandings, and sometimes, just can't over ourselves. If we are both pulled in a million directions, we don't talk and things get worse. But when the Lord allows us to come back together, the healing begins. It's a marriage I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

I'm glad the waters had started flowing again in our communication, because Wednesday was brutal. While not in financial straights, I have long planned to get a supplementary job to go alongside my part-time work at the church and marginal work with the Army. In the past, this has come with doing Army funerals, marriage retreats, etc, but that largely seems to have dried up.

Then a very cool possibility appeared--running for school board. I have a background in politics and experience in education--through teaching and through policy work. It also would be a wonderful complement to my church work in the community. My good buddy in town is a village trustee and county supervisor. He knew how to help me make my way through the process. I filed paperwork, was put on the ballot, and had likely secured the only school board endorsement from the most powerful interest group in town.

But it all came crashing down. Late on Tuesday night, I looked closely at the district map and realized that half of my street is in the Falls district and the other in Hamilton. I had a meeting the next morning with the superintendent and president of the school board. The meeting lasted 2 minutes. They realized that we had all missed where my house was on the street, and I was disqualified.

The Lord had sustained me the couple days prior with some extra time in Word and prayer, but this felt devastating. There was no time to re-file paperwork for any other local, non-partisan office. This seemed like the best use of some of my untapped passions and abilities. And all of a sudden, back at square one--like the several weeks of effort had never happened.

I took the rest of the time that was allotted for the meeting that morning, went back to the church, and just played the piano and sang Psalms. I appreciate the sheer emotion of that portion of sacred Scripture in such moments. In the Lord's providence, I had another meeting just a little while later with the man who inspected my home before we bought it. He is a fellow believer (I learned that day) and was unable to make our housewarming, so I arranged coffee with him. The cynic in me was asking at that moment "What, Lord, is the purpose of this meeting at a time like this?"

Of course, God's providence is most powerful, wise and holy. And on that overcast morning, He reminded me of the importance of Christian fellowship. I was able to share my burden with this brother I hardly knew. He and his wife had only returned to the faith in the past couple years, and he was eager to learn. We talked about our families, and how we can best encourage them with the Gospel. This is one of the reasons why Christ's bride is so precious! How our downcast souls need such pinpricks of light!

He felt bad because he asked me so many questions about defending the faith. But our fits of depression and anger are fundamentally selfish. The thing we most need in our suffering is opportunities to be in relationship and to care for others. In the course of such things, we remember that God's work in this world is not confined to our petty moods.

That night, my dear wife took my boy to our weekly father-son community recreation time so that I could focus on time with my brothers on the session for our monthly meeting. As we wrestled over lots of joyous and difficult issues for the church, they also ministered to me in their care, wisdom, and empathy. Again, I count it a joy to serve alongside these godly shepherds of the sheep.

The next day, I got a lot of work done at the church (catching up in part from drill weekend and the rough setbacks earlier in the week). Thus, my mind was free that night for a wonderful date with my wife at a very good German restaurant. After brief errands at Target and Home Depot (this is what married couples do on dates), we synced back up over schnitzel and learned even more about one another. The learning never ends!

Yesterday morning, another believer I hardly knew proved to be a great blessing to me. We met at Toastmasters on Monday and discovered our mutual excitement for the Gospel. Over coffee, this young man explained how both he and his wife had come to own Christ as their Savior over the past year. And he described how God sustained him over years spent in foster care and constant abandonment. What is a lost professional opportunity compared to this?!

And this is also why we delight in new converts in our churches. While those who have known and loved Jesus from the womb teach us of God's steady, faithful grace, those who come to know Jesus later in life teach us of God's dramatic, overpowering grace. Oh, how the angels in Heaven rejoice!

This morning, I led a weekly run with my Meetup group, meeting 4 new people. My family then went out for breakfast, where I played with my boy in the snow before watching him share his bacon with his sister. This afternoon, we went to a neighbor kid's birthday party, where we reconnected with many of the friends from our housewarming. It was at a large gymnastic facility, and my boy jumped from a platform twice his height into a pit of foam blocks over and over again. As I clapped for him, my baby girl also clapped for him (she started doing that today). Meanwhile, my wife got chatted with many of our young neighbor families and got several phone numbers for follow-up.

She is now enjoying a movie with one of her friends from church as I sit here, having put the kids down for the night, following the Pack game on Gamecast and writing a long overdue blog. And as I conclude this post, I remember why God always tells us to "remember" in Scripture. When we survey our past instead of getting lost in the myopia of the moment, we inevitably see His tender, loving hand at work.

Tomorrow, I will have the privilege of hearing the Lord address my weary heart in both the morning and evening. Alongside the morning sermon, I will play and sing a compilation of Psalms 22 and 23, which connect the suffering of Christ with His shepherd-care of His people. I may not always know how His rod and His staff are at work, but I know they are borne by wounded hands that bled for me.

"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!

I'm Here. I'm Clear. Draw Near.

"Are you sure it's safe to go and meet him again," my wife asked.

I had just told her about my weird conversation with a man at the bar. I gave him my card and told him to let me know if he needed someone to talk to. He texted me soon after I came home. He needed to talk and didn't want to go home yet.

"It's fine, honey," I said, trying to console her. "He's not like the weird guy at the end of American Sniper."

"How did you know I was thinking about that?" I didn't tell her as I was walking out the door, but I was thinking that too.

When this young man sat down next to me at the pub, I noticed right away that it would be an atypical discussion. The young man's answers to my questions were slow and succinct. He kept saying that he led a rather boring life. But he also kept talking about a male best friend of his--how long they had known each other and how much time they spend together.

Eventually, I said "I know people don't talk about these things as much out here, but are you in a relationship with this man?" He said they had talked about it. So I knew he was gay.

The conversation continued to drag along until this young man announced that he was going to go meet up with his best friend at another pub. As always, I handed him my card and told him to let me know if he ever needed to talk. I left a bit after he did and arrived home just in time to get his first text.

Before I knew it, instead of filling my wife in on the uneasy encounter, I was racing back to the center of town. My sense of unease was heightened by my parting words with the bartender. He told me that he had toured the country in a punk band for three years so that he could enjoy that once in a lifetime opportunity. I told him about the summer I went to Africa for two months and tried out for American Idol. I love adventures. But with kids, the adventures become rare. But it's worth it.

I left the bar by paraphrasing a John Calvin quote from his commentary on Acts 20:24--"It is a pity when one's obsession with life obscures one's purpose in life."

Now those words were coming back to haunt me in the car. I pictured the young man, packing heat, waiting for me outside the bar. I prayed that if the Lord willed to take my life, then to please do so in order to save another life. But, I continued, if it be your will, please give me a bit more time with my wife and kids.

When I arrived, I found the young man playing the electronic slot machines. He was packing the other Wisconsinite weapon of choice--a beer. I sat down next to him and we began to talk in a much more substantive manner.

This man's best friend has just told him that he might move away and he couldn't bare the thought. He admitted that he was in love with this man. I told him that often times, when we don't have a religion, our religion becomes the person next to us. That person assumes God-like proportions in our life (Rom. 1). He agreed that this man was at the center of his own religious system.

He told me that he as more standoff-ish with me earlier because I told him I was a pastor. (That wasn't the only reason he seemed off--he's on 21 medications for various physical and psychological disorders.) But he reconsidered when I told him that I am in the Army. He figured that I had counseled lots of people like him (I have--whether he was referring to his lifestyle or disorders).

For stretches of time, I would just let him talk about life. He continued to drink down craft beers and explained that in Wisconsin, this was how you got men to talk with you. That is also one of the reasons why I ventured out into the pub scene quite often.

I asked him what hope he had beyond this man. If this man moved away, in other words, what did he have to live for? He said that he hoped to meet new friends in the LGBT community.

I suggested to him that instead of trying to find a few friends, he find a new community. I told him that he was welcome in our home and in our church.

His eyes lit up, "Is your church LGBT friendly?"

"We are sinner-friendly," I responded. "Jesus said that He came for the sick, not the healthy; sinners, not the righteous. You would have a place there because every sinner finds grace there."

I also told him that he needed friends who would BS him. The worst sort of friend is the one who gives you an unconditional pass, not unconditional love.

Those two things are very different. Christians need not apologize for standing on truth (in a gracious manner). It is cruel to let someone lounge on the couch in a house that is on fire. It is callous to not call someone to aim higher than their own petty, everyday desires.

Before I left, I asked him if he would be okay (yes) and he let me pray with him. Throughout our conversation, I kept picturing this young man as a little boy like my own. I imagined all that must have transpired for it to unfold in this heart-rending way. I earnestly ached for the plight of this prodigal.

Lord, help me to die more and more to myself, so that in and through me, others might see Your perfect patience for sinners like me, and live.

Tattoos and Dinosaurs

On Sunday night, I decided to visit a new pub for the Packers game. As I escaped the winter chill and surveyed the scene around me, I realized there were just three of us.

The bartender has two degrees in political science and will be starting doctoral work next year. We quickly set upon some of the old debates and key figures (i.e. the various schools of economics). He also asked me why I became a Christian. He grew up Jewish and was genuinely curious. I told him a bit about my background, but also explained that only the Bible has given me a satisfactory explanation of why both this world and human nature are so irretrievably broken.

Our conversation soon gave way to the random thoughts of the other guy. He, like most people here, had grown up religious, but now had come to believe in science (a claim repeated by another friend later in the night).

A couple of quick observations (more heady, so feel free to skip through #4):

1) Darwinism and evolutionary theory both offer some helpful insights into scientific inquiry (for example, studying adaptations over time). They are both part of the physical sciences, however, and are best served when relegated to the task of studying the physical realm--not making claims beyond it.

2) In making claims about human origins, (philosophical) Darwinism not only goes beyond the proper bounds of the physical scientific inquiry, but outside the bounds of what can truly be studied by the senses. Cosmology (the study of origins) stands above the physical realm. We are reaching further than they physical sciences can take us--hence, the traditional emphasis on philosophy and theology to understand origins.

3) In the quest to physically explain the world's origins, Darwinism naturally eliminates the inclusion of metaphysical (above-physical) data in its quest. So in order to answer what has typically been understood as a metaphysical question through physical means, they eliminate a whole category of data from the outset, corrupting their quest.

4) Why does Darwinism eliminate metaphysical data from the outset? Because metaphysical data cannot be studied and verified by the human senses. Why is it that the human senses are considered the standard for truth (commonly called "empiricism")? Because its adherents say so.

In other words, Darwinism rules out creationism and sets up an entire cosmology based on a single article of faith: Seeing is believing.

Sorry for the digression, but this is important. Science is only able to be wielded against faith because it is being misused. And its misuse is rooted in a competing religious system--human autonomy (also called "paganism"). That is why science is erroneously propped up against faith.

Back to the story--I spent a good part of the night talking with a tattoo-clad she-beast (seriously, this girl did four years of mixed martial arts and was tough as nails). She told me about all the times that "religious types" have criticized and belittled her for her tattoos. Even if her claims were exaggerated, this sort of knee-jerk judgmentalism is appalling. Even if one believes the Bible prohibits tattoos (I do not believe so), we have no right to bind consciences on the matter unless the Bible clearly weighs upon the issue--and then, only for the believer. There is a reason Paul didn't circumcise Titus--it was not part and parcel of what it meant to be a follower of Jesus Christ. He left a tattoo of flesh upon that young man that might as well have spelled out "L-I-B-E-R-T-Y."

And as they did with my writing here, the tattoos were merely a distraction from the deeper issues of this gal. She grew up with an abusive father. When she was eight, she was in a car accident, broke her femur, and watched as her mom died in the car beside her. Wow! She tried to explain it away as being in the past, but I stopped her, took a moment to compose myself and not let such a horrible fact pass with little mention. We talked more about her broken past. See what we miss if we focus on the marks on her flesh and not the wounds on her heart?

Tattoos and dinosaurs, people. Neither of these are obstructions to the Gospel. Christ, through whom all things were created--including dinosaurs--carries with Him physical marks of His crucifixion. Our wounds cannot compare to His, for by His wounds, we are healed. Thanks be to God.

New Year New You 5k

Following a recent tradition of setting up last-minute runs, I announced the formation of a New Year New You 5k. With my visiting parents and little boy helping at the starting line (wife was at home with a tired baby), we gathered a group of 7 runners. After instructions and prayer, we set off.

Unlike last time, most of the runners were not from church! Of course, we had the retired Rev. Tolsma and his wife with us, walking their way into the further lore of sweet, aged, couples who still enjoy time together--even if walking in freezing temperatures for an hour!

But we also had four young adults from the community--some who heard about us on Facebook and others from Meetup--who ran with me the whole time. I got to know their names, a bit about where they live and where they're from, as well as whether they're married and have kids. I asked for their input on improving our running group, and think they'll help me take it to the next level!

As we returned from our 5k on the icy paths, three of the runners turned around to do another lap and make it a 10k. I handed my card to the departing runner and ran into another man and his dog who was interested in the group (my parents had held him there until I arrived) and I handed him my card and the church card.

My dad them joined me for a light walk/jog to go meet up with Tolsmas and chat with them for a bit. We did so for a few minutes before again, running into a couple walking a dog. We let the Tolsmas continue on their way as we chatted up this random couple. Turns out that they are believers from down in Wheaton, IL--up here for the holidays. The wife expressed her heartache that most of her 9 siblings are not walking with the Lord. We spent some time in prayer together.

A little while later, the three remaining runners joined us at the finish, happily chatted for a few as our bodies cooled down from the run, and talked about vague plans for the future. Another gal who had been running around joined us well. She had arrived late for the run and had just jogged around aimlessly until we were done.

All in all, a fabulously encouraging event. We engaged 6 members of the community--a number of them for an extended period of time. We had an encouraging conversation with an out-of-town couple. And we watched with awe as a couple with a combined century and a half of years on them continued to enjoy the warmth of their marriage in the bitter cold of New Years.

As we embark upon the new year, remember that new you does not come through self-transformation, dramatic resolutions, or simply "turning the page."

"If any man is in Christ, he is a new creation--the old has gone, the new has come." (2 Cor. 5:17)