dearly beloved children.
Lord, walk with me in those moments of darkness, and be my Light and Life. Increase our faith in Your leadership, until we enter the Kingdom of Glory, through Christ our great Guide, Amen.
October 8
Mines: our greatest enemy. Today we lost 2 engineers from an IED strike, and a couple others were wounded, including an officer friend of mine who lost the lower part of his face, some fingers and a knee cap. I had a chance to visit with the rest of their section after the event, to help the members decompress and facilitate their grief. The sergeant in charge was filled with such guilt. It was not his fault, and yet there was nothing that I could say to bring him comfort. Why is it that we often feel that we need to say something, instead of nothing? Probably, it represents an attempt to ease our own awkwardness, and, in the case of a chaplain, validate our presence. So I made the mistake of trying to explain that the enemy was to blame, but to little avail. However, I refused to forget this faithful leader. At the end of my time at that FOB, I found a cook and gave him a cross that I had made out of two sticks of wood and a bit of string, and asked him to pass it on to that sergeant. I myself was unable to track him down. I have no idea the impact of that gesture: whether he would be insulted or grateful; angry or moved to tears. Regardless, the message of the cross transcends any of our mixed emotions. It will, one day, give him the consolation that he desperately requires. It offers us an invitation to cast our burdens upon the One who so patiently hung upon two sticks of wood.
Lord Jesus the Crucified One, You alone bring hope and comfort to heavy hearts and consciences. Forgive us our sins of both commission and omission and free us from our prisons of guilt. Amen.
October 13
Recently we have been on a high level of security alert due to an abnormally large number of rocket attacks from the Taliban. The enemy plants Chinese rockets targeting our FOBs. As a timer, they use plastic pop bottles filled with water. When the evaporating water from the desert heat reaches a certain point, it crosses two wires triggering an electric charge, firing off the rocket. Since the rockets are balanced on field rocks, their aim is terrible and, although they are set up not far from us, normally they miss us entirely, although some explosions have been within 200 meters. Yet sometimes, albeit rarely, they get lucky. One happened to land in our midst at about noon yesterday. I heard the squeal, which gives you just enough time to duck your head, and saw a huge explosion not far from me, followed by a cloud of toxic smoke in the sky. There are many squeals throughout the day. Those who work the artillery fire canons whose blasts will literally knock you off your feet. Then there are the IED explosions or “thumps,” depending on their proximity, and bullets gone wild from a gunfire episode. Incoming rockets give off a slightly different sound. Anyway, when I ran to the scene I saw a huge sea container with a six foot hole in its side and a truck on fire. Apparently, the door was open and the rocket passed through it, broke through the opposite wall and hit part of the engine, popping four tires. I learned afterwards that two mechanics were under that truck just a few minutes prior, but decided to grab lunch early that day. As they were walking away the rocket struck. Thankfully, all the dangerous shrapnel was confined in the container and truck.
On another occasion, a rocket landed on a Canadian shelter burning it down. Thanks be to God that no one was in it at the time, and the damage was isolated except for some rips in nearby tents. In both incidents (and, there are not enough pages in this journal to record all the stories of similar “close calls”), the soldiers told me that they were “lucky,’’ whereas I asserted that they were “blessed.’’ There is a difference. Although we cannot know why bad things happen to one person and not another, it is good to give thanks to God for all the times, both big and small, that He rescues us from danger. We are equally sinners and we all deserve the worst that life can throw at us. But why some get off easier than others is beyond our understanding. We can say with certainty that if God wasn’t with us, things would be a lot worse. Do we really understand grace if we make comparisons between ourselves and those that have it better, or worse, than us?
Another spiritual lesson learned is that we ought never get too angry when we are late for an appointment, miss the bus, or get caught up at work. We may even curse God for the unforeseen delays. But who knows what your life would have looked like if everything was on schedule. Perhaps God held you back those few minutes, in the office, or permitted that crisis to occur at the last minute, just to keep you off the road, due to an inevitable car accident that awaited you. Of course, you will never know. But the angels of God do. And I believe that they act on our behalf, in every time of need, which is probably a lot more frequent than we would like to imagine or are prepared to believe.
Lord of the heavenly hosts, I thank You for the angels that deliver to us Your help and rescue, directing the eyes of our hearts to the great salvation achieved by Your dear Son, our Lord. Amen.
October 19
This morning at 0430 I woke up to assist with a ramp ceremony. As I stood there beside the Hercules aeroplane listening to the prayers as the coffin was loaded on, I watched the sun rise over the desert hills behind the heads of the line of soldiers before me. There was complete silence as the body advanced towards us. The sun resurrects, and so does hope. There are very few moments in a soldier’s day in which he or she abides in silence. In silence, one is forced to reflect upon that very silence. Silence either consoles or terrifies. It is always uncomfortable. We are not at ease with silence. Even believers commence their nervous coughs during those lengthy moments of silence in a church service, when those private prayers or confessions are to be lifted to God in the quiet of our hearts. The silence always has a purpose. If it is only to awaken that sense of awkwardness in our inner beings, it is well placed. Silence makes us more resilient, because it reminds us that we are not in control of our emotions or of our destiny, both in the next few seconds or the years ahead. Someone else is in control: the pastor who decides to react to the cough, shortening the silence with his intervening words; the pall bearers who decide to speed up the pace to shorten the awkward moment. And then there is God. I believe that Jesus was often silent. I think that perhaps this is one reason why He loved St. John so much. John, we could say, was the silent apostle. He listened a lot, reflected even more. He was all the more faithful, courageous and compassionate because of it. There was only one disciple who chose to find himself at the foot of Christ’s cross, despite all the risks to his own safety. That was John. May we, likewise, imitate his way. May our soldiers imitate ours.
Father of Lights, whose mercies are new to us every morning, teach me to listen to Your Gospel voice and remind me of the importance of silence both in giving to others and in receiving from You; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
October 24
Apparently Martin Luther once said, “I am so busy I only have time to pray.’’ As a Lutheran theologian, I love such paradoxical syllogisms. This one is intended to prioritize prayer. Prayer changes not the heart of God, but rather the heart of the one who prays. God does not need our prayers, but we ourselves need to pray. Certainly God has already answered many of the prayers that we should have prayed, but didn’t. In short, He is full of grace and cares for us despite our own neglect. However, as Luther said elsewhere, God has a treasure chest full of jewels that He is just waiting to give to us. He is simply waiting for someone to ask. Well, here in Afghanistan, I have more time to pray than I do at home. There, after the busy work day, errands and children take up most of my evenings and weekends. By the time night time comes, my daily prayers have become my family prayers. The bed time devotion routine, which is absolutely invaluable and I miss it dearly, cannot replace that daily quiet time that every Christian ought to have with their Lord, even if it be only five minutes.
Here, on the other side of the world, I have no family and few errands to complete. My laundry is done for me, my meals are cooked for me, and my bunk takes about 10 minutes to clean. My work week follows the track of a roller coaster. I am either really busy or really bored. Nevertheless, most of the time, I can easily find time to pray. Besides noise,
