My husband’s title had just branded me for the duration of my time in this tiny town in Alaska. Perhaps I should have expected it, but I was frustrated. I wanted to be identified for who I was, not for what my husband did for a living. And then I realized something else: instead of seeking to declare my identity as an individual, I really should have been more concerned with staking my identity in Christ. What truly matters is who I am—who we are—in Christ.
What is it that you hope for? Perhaps it is the safety of your spouse, or for an easy transition after deployment, or for a certain assignment. Or could it be that you have been walking in difficulty for so long that you are finding it difficult to hope at all? If you find your faith giving way to doubt, you are not alone.
The Bible tells us that “The prayer of a righteous man [or woman] is powerful and effective” (James 5:16). So what are you praying for? Most, if not all of us, pray for our husbands. But do you know exactly how to pray for your military man’s unique needs? I asked Chaplain Scott Koeman, when in Afghanistan, for some specific things we can be praying for. Here is the insightful list he shared with me:
A woman in our military unit had been corresponding with her old boyfriend for months, unbeknownst to her husband (but shared with the other wives), emailing and instant messaging late into the night. She was convinced she would be happier if she filed for divorce, hoped for the best for her children, and returned to the arms of the one she did not marry. While the geographical distance prevented her from having a physical relationship with this man, she was clearly in an emotional affair.
My husband’s title had just branded me for the duration of my time in this tiny town in Alaska. Perhaps I should have expected it, but I was frustrated. I wanted to be identified for who I was, not for what my husband did for a living. And then I realized something else: instead of seeking to declare my identity as an individual, I really should have been more concerned with staking my identity in Christ. What truly matters is who I am—who we are—in Christ.
Several military wives, myself included, had crammed into an apartment living room for a book club meeting. As we chatted between bites of crackers and cheese, our conversation veered away from the book of the month when the hostess unleashed a bitter monologue concerning her husband’s frequent absences at sea and punctuated it with a booming, “I did not sign up to be a single parent!” With one toddler and another baby due soon, this woman was clearly frazzled. Unfortunately, her resentment over having to be solo spilled out of her like a toxin and threatened to poison the evening.
A couple of years ago, while I was writing my Civil War series, I was delighted to learn that Lew Wallace, the author of Ben Hur, was a Civil War general before writing the novel. But it was only a few days ago that I learned more about the amazing story of how it all came about.
As Sonja held down the fort while her husband Jason was deployed, she quickly saw the need to go on the offensive against spirits of fear, worry, resentment, anger and bitterness. Instead of waiting for discouragement to invade and occupy her home, she countered it at every turn by wielding the Sword of Truth: God’s Word.
A woman in our military unit had been corresponding with her old boyfriend for months, unbeknownst to her husband (but shared with the other wives), emailing and instant messaging late into the night. She was convinced she would be happier if she filed for divorce, hoped for the best for her children, and returned to the arms of the one she did not marry. While the geographical distance prevented her from having a physical relationship with this man, she was clearly in an emotional affair.
A couple of years ago, while I was writing my Civil War series, I was delighted to learn that Lew Wallace, the author of Ben Hur, was a Civil War general before writing the novel. But it was only a few days ago that I learned more about the amazing story of how it all came about.