The Online Chaplain

Reintegration Tip #1

There was this guy who had spent his whole life in the desert. He decides to visit a friend. On his way he is walking on the railroad tracks.  He'd never seen a train before or the tracks they run on.  He hears this whistle, but has no idea what it is. So he just stands there. And sure enough the train hits him. Luckily, it was only a glancing blow. The guy was throw,head over heals to the side of the tracks.

After about a week in the hospital recovering, he's at his friend's house one evening. While in the kitchen, he suddenly hears the teakettle whistling. He grabs a baseball bat from the nearby closet and proceeds to batter and bash the teakettle into an unrecognizable lump of metal. His friend rushes into the kitchen, sees what's happened and asks the man: "Why'd you ruin my good tea kettle?"  The guy who had grown up in the desert replied: "Man, you gotta kill these things while they're still small. Their nasty when they get big."

In this simple joke there is a good lesson as we prepare to go home.  The lesson: take care of issues when they are small, because they are nasty when they get big.  It is not a bad lesson for those heading back to civilian life after being gone for two years, or for those who are about to receive them.  Jesus said, "Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much…"  I believe this is true.  If you are faithful in taking care of the little things you will be blessed with much.  Much hope in the future.  Much peace!  Much! 

Bunker Theology 101

This is not a my typical night at Scania, but it happens.  Brush my teeth, watch an episode of Star Trek Voyager, play a game solitaire on my computer, do the Army Times crossword puzzle, listen to the rockets fly overhead and the first impact somewhere in the dark, and then run like crazy for my bunker all the while praying that the next round isn’t the one.

This is what happened the other night.  When I got to my bunker I snapped a chem-light (always keep chem.-lights in your bunker) and realized someone else had already found there way there.  I heard all to familiar words,

"Hey chaplain, good to see you, I have been looking for an opportunity to talk to you." 

Great, talk about a captive audience, we weren’t a-goin anywhere.  So, as I settled in I heard the topic that would occupy our attention for the next hour or so.  At least most of our attention.  I have to confess from time to time I was fixated on my bare feet and scorpions.  But, nonetheless, I had a captive audience, I was sitting in front of the door and we were in the midst of an attack.  This soldier was mine.  I could have baptized him and there wasn’t a dang thing he could have done about it.  HA!

The topic of the evening…

"Hey chaplain do you ever help people with their marriage problems?" 

Hmmmph.  Well, the very naiveté of such a question.  Did he not know that he was huddled in a bunker with none other than the Dr. Phil of Scania, Iraq.  Help with marriage problems…  Is the grass green?  Is the sky blue?  Is Dr. Phil bald?  I eventually got over my slightly bruised ego and replied,

"Once in a while, what’s going on?" 

The topic of the evening…  HOW TO FIX A MARRIAGE.  After an appropriate amount of listening he eventually asked me the question, "What do you think I should do?"  I played the pastoral/counseling/advising ace in the hole.  It is the equivalent of telling your listener “I don’t know what the hell you should do either” but most of the time it works. 

"Well, what do you think you should do?"

I could have just as well asked my fourteen year old if he knew why I wanted him to shut off the lights when he left the house.  Nothing.  Zilch.  Goose Egg.  Thus, the reason I was in the bunker for about forty-five minutes longer than was necessary.  Between the two of us however we did come up with some pretty good relational advise.  I believe it could be applied to a marriage, a friendship, a boss, a child or a parent.  Here it is…

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD SOLDIER UP.  It’s bootstrap time buddy.  It’s time to forget that you worked all day and you are tired.  It’s time to forget that you want the day to be about YOU.  It is time to forget the pain and go for the gain.  So, suck up the hurt and do the right thing.  Sometimes in life you have to march.  You have suck it up for the sake of others and forget about yourself.  Yes, it hurts.  Yes, it is not always fair.  But, it is often the answer.  We are not in relationships to receive, we are in relationship to give.  And when we focus on the giving a mystical, “Holy cats! How did God do that?” thing happens.  We start to receive more than we ever gave.  We live with sweet satisfaction of knowing we did all we could and we fulfill our mission.  Here is our mission…

WE BUILD BUNKERS.  That’s our job.  We are to build relational safe places for our spouses, our friends, our family and everyone we come into contact with.  That’s what Christians do.  You focus your efforts on building a bunker around your spouse and everyone else you come in contact with.  If you do this I can tell you what is going to happen. Nine-hundred and ninety-nine times out of a thousand your spouse and everybody else is going to build a bunker around you.  Together you will protect one another from all the crap flying around in our world today. 

So soldier up and build a few bunkers.  It’s biblical.  "Love your neighbor as yourself," the good book says.  TheOnlineChaplain Revised Heretical Version reads, "Suck it up and build them bunkers, daylights a burning."  It is amazing the things you can learn huddled in a bunker at midnight.......from a bunker. 

Voices

Late one night, a burglar broke into a house he thought was empty. He tiptoed through the living room but suddenly he froze in his tracks when he heard a loud voice say: "Jesus is watching you!" Silence returned to the house, so the burglar crept forward again.  "Jesus is watching you," the voice boomed again.  The burglar stopped dead again. He was frightened. Frantically, he looked all around. In a dark corner, he spotted a birdcage and in the cage was a parrot.  He asked the parrot: "Was that you who said Jesus is watching me?"  "Yes", said the parrot.

The burglar breathed a sigh of relief, and asked the parrot: "What's your name?"  "Clarence," said the bird.  "That's a dumb name for a parrot," sneered the burglar. "What idiot named you Clarence?"   The parrot said, "The same idiot who named the Rottweiller Jesus."

There are voices all of our lives telling us how to live, what to say, what to wear, who to act like, how to be successful and how to make millions.    Not one of us would doubt for a minute the influence of other voices in our culture.  In the past twenty years, the study of how to compete for our attention created entire industries.  Direct mail has become a billion-dollar industry.  Write a catchy ad for television, and you could be an instant millionaire.  I wish I developed the “Got Milk.” ad.  Two words got the nations attention.  And it is all about making sure a voice was heard. 

Most of the voices competing for our attention want something.  They want your time.  They want your money.  They want your interest.  They want your thoughts.  They want your vote and some want as much as they can get from you.

But there is another voice, constant, strong, and unparalleled in its ability to bring hope.  The voice of Jesus!  In John 10:27 Jesus says, “My sheep know my voice…”  So, here is my gentle, non-finger pointing, reminder.  Listen.  I believe God has something to say to you, today.  Let me know what you heard.

No Souls Lost

This morning I was talking to one of the soldiers from the TOC.  I asked him, "Was it a good night?"  He responded, "What do you mean?"  I quickly added, "Did anyone die in the AO (area of operation)?" 

"Did I have a good day?", used to mean other things:  no conflict with co-workers, no conflict with spouse, and just a general well-being about things.  You know a kind of "Don’t worry, be happy," day.  Nothing stressed you out.  It was calm - a good day.  Not any more the stakes are higher.

Here a good day is when nobody dies or when nobody looses an arm or leg.  That’s a good day.  Everything else is peripheral.  Or in theological terms adiaphra, non-essential.   A year at war changes your standards, I think.  I have wondered if anything will ever seem difficult or if civilian life will now seem somehow petty.  How do you go back to worrying about paint color and matching clothes after all this?  Or should you?

Perhaps, times like this reset what is important in a person’s life and remind you that the standard we ought to pay most attention to is the standard of life or death.  The standard is not happiness, not things, not pleasure, but life or death.  Did the day I just lived serve life?  Did I intercept anyone today who had death close at his/her heals and turn back the enemy?  Did I speak life into anyone in the name of Almighty God?  Did I realize what was at stake?

Our job on this earth is to fight back death.  The spiritual death, the death of happiness for our neighbors, and the un-timely physical death of all people, each are enemies we must face.  This is the standard by which we measure a day at war.  Perhaps, it should be the constant standard.  So, today I say this.  It was a good day.  No souls lost.

The Trial (Psalm 23:3)

As I enter this courtroom my head bowed, my eyes sunken, my chained shuffle rattles out a rhythm of defeat.  I take my chair and slump beneath the weight of life in such away I know not if I shall be able to rise again.  Minutes go by and finally, I hear the bailiff cry out,

"All rise for the Honorable Judge." 

The Judge enters.  He looks somehow familiar to me, familiar as if someone I had talked to in a dream once.  My memory clouded with confusion, guilt, shame cannot produce a name, only a feeling. 

The Judge seated at a throne-like desk ruffles the papers before him.  I can not help but think that the Judge looks regal.  Not like a judge at all, but more like a king in utter and absolute control of his realm.  A king who could command the birds to sing, the winds to cease, the storms to stop.  A king who could command life or death to reign at his bidding.  This man I feared, and I was not accustomed to fear!

Eventually, his steely gaze met mine.  I held his gaze for but a moment, before I cowered in my chair.  His voice shook the room,

"Man, you are accused of crimes against humanity and God.  How do you plead?" 

I had rehearsed this a thousand times, a thousand times a thousand.  All of my life I had practiced, and perhaps hid behind my answer.  I wanted to cry out to the judge, "I am a good man," but I held my tongue for fear.  I wanted to speak and hide in the deception that was so apparent under the gaze of the Judge.  I wanted to say, "Not guilty."  But I dared not lie, before one so like a King.  I stood slowly, steadying myself as I rose.  Finally, I spoke the only thing I could say, 

"Guilty Your Honor, I am Guilty."

Guilty Your Honor, I am Guilty:  The Evidence
Years have passed since I first heard my voice pronounce my own sinful guilt.  Years that have taught me everything and nothing.  Years filled with contrition and reflection.  The pyre of evidence that convicted me years ago has become a mountain of madness when I dwell upon it.

I still commit crimes.  Hungry and thirsty people go without.  I see them, not often those starving from lack of food.  But often wandering souls deprived of meaning, lost in loneliness, abandoned in apathy, and discarded into despair.  They march by with longing, searching eyes.

How easy it would be to rescue them.  Saying kind words, placing a hand upon a shoulder, warmly smiling, and appreciation of things well done is not work.  All I would have to do is to forget about my own troubles for one instance and throw these simple life lines.  But too often I forget.

I still commit crimes.  Strangers are not welcomed.  I have so much.  The world could flow through the pathways of my life and I would not be diminished in the least.  I find the traffic of life gives me more than it takes.  Strangers need only be strangers for a moment.  A smile, a handshake, a warm hello brings us all into the circle of life. 

This lifeline would be so easy to use.  I could do it without exertion or struggle.  But, strangers pass by unnoticed.  Wayfarers in the stream of life maneuver by like shadowy figures from a novel.  But they are not.  They are people like me: searching, pursuing, hunting, and scavenging for meaning wherever it may be found.  I could lead them to the meaning that has captured me.  But I am too afraid.

I still commit crimes.  Those naked are not clothed.  Stuff.  My life often could be summed up in this single word.  A word that rolls off my tongue with a dull sickening sound that lacks purpose, meaning and joy.  STUFF.  I have filled my life with it.  Possessions like price tags hang on us advertising "the price we paid."  And the price has been too high. 

The price has been paid on the backs of those who have to little.  "Am I my brothers keeper?"  I know I am.  My brother, my sister, and their children’s children are mine to care for.  I am the guardian of their life.  Unfortunately, fear of the future is more important to me then these ragtag vagabonds.  And so I put my desires above their needs.  I turn away.  I know I should help.  But I am too uncertain.

I still commit crimes.  The sick and in prison are forgotten.  There is more than one kind of prison you know.  There are prisons built with brick, steel and mortar.  There are others built by the march of time.  Age with each passing day places a brick around a tireless soul until finally they are completely trapped in a failing body.  I am convinced the soul does not age.  Tireless, vigorous, passionate, and potent the soul soars, while the body plummets.  The eternal soul in the temporal body is the most common prison of all.

Yet, compassionate we are not.  When we plant a seedling we cannot imagine that one-day it will be a mighty oak.  When we are young we cannot imagine we will ever be old.  And so those who could open "ages prison doors" with young strong arms and hands leave them shut.  We have a sense that we should.  But we just don’t take the time.

These things I ponder often.  The trial draws me back daily now.  As I grow older the significance of the trial rises like the moon at midnight.  It is the light in the present darkness for me.  I recall full well my confession of guilt.  I have not escaped the accusation of my heart that led me to profess the guilt of my soul.  But neither have I forgotten what happened next.

The Verdict
I admit it is a blur to me.  I have never understood it’s message fully, only it’s effect.  The Judge asked me, to rise and approach the bench for sentencing.  Still chained, I shuffled forward until I stood before this kingly Judge.  Minutes passed, minutes that stretched out like a lifetime.  Finally, the Judge spoke,

"Man, as you spoke, I saw within you something I did not expect to see.  I saw the image of one long dead, but who is always present with me.  I saw the image of my Son.  Long ago he to stood before this court, accused of crimes against humanity and God.  He to plead guilty, although unlike you, he was not.  For the love of others he took their punishment upon himself, and was sentenced to death."

The steely gaze of the Judge melted as he talked.  He looked down upon me no longer as a Judge, but had the eyes of a Father.  He stretched out his hand toward mine.  His hands were large and powerful, as if he could hold the world in the palm.  As he held my hand he gently said,

"My sons blood, for your life.  You are free to go."   

I could not believe my ears.  I had received pardon for my crimes.  Glorious pardon!  I glanced back one last time to see the Kingly Judge staring in the distance.  I am sure he was remembering, as I do often, his Son, the one who died for my pardon. 

I left that glorious courtroom alone.  I did not bring guilt, shame and fear with me.  In fact, I have not seen them since.  Perhaps, they are still cowering in the corner of that courtroom, where I last saw them, or perhaps they are dead.  But for me,

"I am alive."

The Pardoned Life
I never met the one to whom I owe my life.  I never met the Son, but I know him.  The mark of his life and death is upon me.  I live because he died.  We are forever joined.  Closer than a brother he walks beside me.  Daily I am judged by his sacrifice.  He has become my Lord and Master.  I find shelter from all judgment in his image. 

And so years later I find I live under only one banner.  There is only one defense for my life.  The judgment of past and present are salved and healed in the pardon I received long ago.  This pardon I cling to daily. 

"He has made me right in his eyes, for his own sake."

This is my hope.  This is my salvation.  This is my truth.  This is my life.

For My Buddy Al

I wrote this today to my buddy Al who is at Mayo Clinic battling cancer.  I thought it might help all of us in our respective battles.  I hope it encourages you.

Dear Al,

Pain and weakness always come and say...

"I am here to stay, I will not go away. 

They come and say, "Dismay!" 

But when this duo sing their song,

another declares it eternally wrong. 

He says in gentle tone,

eternal presence is his alone. 

Fear not my friend, tho' you bend. 

You will not break, it's not the end. 

Tho' this duo has a voice,

your fate is simply not their choice. 

The hands that hold you are stronger still,

than all earth's power, and all earth's will."

Written this 16th Day of February 2007 in recognition of your war, and mine.  Hang in there Al, it won't be long and it will be fishing and pheasants for us.  Praying for you. - Love Ya Buddy

Corey

One Day Closer to Someday

One day closer to someday. This is my new phrase for the deployment. We are each day one day closer to the day we will get to go home. We don’t know when that day is, but time stops for no one. This is the one thing I can count on and I am clinging to it. We are one day closer…

A strange thing happens to a soldier when they have been deployed for as long as we have been. Somewhere along the path this becomes the primary reality. It’ a scary thing and I have a better understanding of soldier atrocities, where soldiers have lost there humanity. I can no longer imagine what it is like to come home after a long day of work. I can no longer imagine what it will be like to sit and watch TV in the evening with my kids, or go for a Sunday drive, or sit down for a meal with my family. Without that imagination I have come up with this simple word of hope, “I am one day closer to someday.”

So are you. Maybe for you it is not deployment but pain that has you by the short hairs of life. Perhaps, peace has given way to tragedy and you have heard the doctor say, “You have cancer.” Now, months have gone by and you can no longer imagine life without the elephant of disease stampeding through every room in the house. Or, maybe for you it is relational cancer digging it’s way through you flesh. After twenty five years of marriage she said, “I don’t love you anymore – I’m leaving.”

When these things happen pain becomes your primary reality. Hope drifts south and you have to fight your way back to life. If this is where your life is right now this is my council. Fight, for all your worth. Fight back the despair. Fight the frustration. Fight the hurt. There is hope in every situation. Find it, use it, live it. Perhaps the only hope we have today is, “We are one day closer to someday.” But, that is something.

The 34th ID is one day closer to going home. So are we all. The bible says, we are one day closer to streets of gold. We are one day closer to…no more sorrow, no more pain, no more hardship of any kind. Although this life becomes our primary reality, there is another. Although this life’s hardships absorb me and capture me there are other truths. I’m not sure what heaven looks like, but I am sure it will be great. So, hang on tight. Don't let the pain win. You can do it. You will not always feel the way you do today. Remember, “You are one day closer to someday.” ---TheOnlineChaplain

Lost Voice

Sometimes you lose your voice.  A number of years ago I stood before my congregation and I recited the Words of Institution for Holy Communion.  “Christians, in the night in which he was betrayed our Lord took bread, and gave thanks, broke it and gave it to his disciples saying…”  I had said these words for a decade in hundreds of situations but on this particular morning…I had no cotton picking idea what Jesus said after he broke that bread.  Awkward moment doesn’t begin to describe the feeling.

So, I decided to take another run at it.  “Christians, in the night in which was betrayed our Lord took bread, and gave thanks, broke it and gave it to his disciples saying…”  Yep, you guessed it.  Still got nothing!  The elevator is going to the top floor of the building of memory, but I just can’t get the dang doors to open.  The congregation is now deeply anxious for their pastor and visibly shifting in their seats trying to figure out how to save him from himself.

Now, lesser men would have given up at this point.  Not me, I had one more try in me.  So, “Christians, in the night in which he was betrayed our Lord took bread, and gave thanks, broke it and gave it to his disciples saying…”  Still got nothing!  Zip!  Nothing!  Goose Egg!  Skunked!  So, I did what any self respecting preacher would do.  I said, “Oh for Pete’s sake.”  I don’t know who Pete is, but I know he was laughing his butt off at me on this Sunday morning.  I finally opened up the Lutheran Book of Worship and I read the words.  When I was done the congregation applauded.

Sometimes you lose your voice.  Recently, for reasons I am not sure of I haven’t had much to write about.  Words didn’t flow, ideas didn’t germinate and I simply have not produced much.  C’mon if you are a regular on theonlinechaplain.com you were glad you didn’t have a subscription.  You would have wanted a refund, me too.

We all lose our voice from time to time.  Soon, thousands of soldiers will return to the United States with a serious case of laryngitis.  I for one am going to leave the memories of this place behind.  I am guessing I will follow in the tradition of my grandfather.  When I am old, I will tell a few family members so they can understand the costs paid by so many.   Until then, if it will leave me alone I want to leave it alone.

I am not overly concerned about this verbal affliction.  Frankly, it has been my experience people do understand.  I have received hundreds of affirmations from friends, family and strangers this past year.  Despite the politic aspects of the war, American’s stand behind their soldiers with a dedication I had never witnessed before. 

And I also know there is someone to speak for me and all other soldiers.  As soldiers we have voluntarily marginalized ourselves.  We have said we would go where others can not, we will do what others are not able too.  For the sake of our country and the principle of duty we have willfully and knowingly marginalized ourselves – lost our voice. 

But, we are not in any way left silent.  Though we may not choose to speak we have a spokesperson.  We have an ambassador, a compatriot who has been with us through every step of this deployment.  He was there for every struggle, every divorce, every birth, every death and every injury.  He understands where we have been because he walked beside us through out the long days and nights.  He speaks for us when we have lost our voice and represents us when we are cast aside.  Christ Jesus has always, always… had a fondness for the marginalized.  His own words, “I came not for the healthy, but the sick”, his own words, “I came for the lost”, reveal his prejudice.  In his own words, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

-theonlinechaplain- 

Shadows

The bible says, “We see in a mirror dimly, what one day we will see face to face.” We soldiers understand what it means to see in a mirror dimly. At some point in our deployment the life we are living in this country becomes our primary reality. Perhaps, simply for survival purposes things need to be this way. You can not, after all, live in two places at the same time. As a result things become shadowy.

Bev, my wife is the single most important person in my life, bar none. There has never been a more faithful friend. She laughs at my jokes, smiles at my wit, thinks I’m easy on the eyes and even wants to spend time with me. I’ve got a Cadillac and I know it. But, even important things like relationships can blur into the shadows over time. It is not because they are unimportant, or neglected, or unreal. The simple fact is this, the relationships we forge in our lives change in deployment. They become shadowy.

It is important we remember shadows are real. They are representations of things, but nonetheless real. They represent things that have become important in our past and by virtue of history are important in our present. And so we must remember they are our anchors, our safe harbors and our sanctuaries.

The psalmist writes, “Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.” The shadow of God’s loving presence doesn’t always seem real. His protection sometimes seems a figment of our imagination. Sometimes God seems far off, non-caring and illusive. I know that. I have had these seasons too. However, even if you don’t see the wings covering you, ponder the shadow of his wings.

Bev and I are not able to take as good of care of each other as we can when I am at home. We are mere shadows to one another over the distance of time and space. This is true. But, the shadow representing the love we share as husband and wife is real. Likewise, we are not home with God yet. We have not fully realized the power of his presence, protection and love, this is true. We see in a mirror dimly, shadows. But, the shadow of his wing is real. You are cared for, you are loved, you are under his wing and the apple of his eye.

First Lost Tooth

On Sunday, my youngest lost his first tooth.  Thankfully, not in a fist fight at Sunday school, but by natural causes.  The potential for how he lost his first tooth always had a wide range of possibility.  It could have been a fist fight, falling out of a tree, or reasonable retaliation from one of siblings – anything.  Me, I’m grateful for natural causes.

God sometimes uses the craziest things to remind you he cares.  This week – my little guys lost tooth.  You see, at our house I am in charge of tooth extraction.  I have guided three crying, scared little people through their first encounter with the tooth fairy.  This should have been the fourth.  But, the moment came and went and adds itself to a long list of things soldiers miss, and others take for granted. 

Listen to these summaries from the lives of fellow soldiers.  Your daughter has emergency surgery and you are not there to hold her hand.  The birth of your first born went well, but you will have to take every ones word for it, your not there.  You celebrated your wedding anniversary by doing an extra hour of PT and your wife goes out with girl friends.  Your son spends a few days in the hospital and you miss the opportunity to help.  Your first grader got on the bus for the first day of school with only one parent standing in the drive way.  Peers at work got the promotion and your career is on hold.  Fellow college students started their third year college while your still working to finish the first because of back to back deployments.  Harvest started, duck season is reported to be better than ever, deer season is right around the corner, and your buddies toasted you last time they were at the American Legion.    In a nut shell…you are missing a lot and all the optimism in the world doesn’t change this.

As I thought about this today I remembered these words of Jesus, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”  Even though we are missing much of the things that give us life we are still under God’s care, so are our families.

I wasn’t there for the big tooth pull, but God was.  I didn’t see him off for his first day of first grade, but it all happened under God’s watchful eye.  As father, you did not supervise the birth of your firstborn, but our heavenly father never left your family’s side.  You are doing your duty and extra PT instead of college courses and anniversaries and you wonder if anyone cares, God cares. 

Soldiers listen up.  You are six thousand miles away from your loved ones and the people and places that give you strength.  But, you are not outside of the care of God.  Families back home hear the good word!  Six thousand miles separate you from the soldier you care about, and God understands your every anxiety.  You matter!  God Cares!  This won’t last forever.  Hang on.