Battlefields & Blessings: Stories of Faith and Courage from the War in Iraq & Afghanistan is a publication of 365 devotions to encourage, enlighten and inspire. But I couldn’t wait an entire year to read all of the entries—the stories were just too good. So I sat down and read the book cover-to-cover, never minding the 365-day menu.
You might recall this story of Moses, how he went up to the mountain for forty days where he met with God face to face. While there Moses bowed in adoration, listened and heard commandments from the Almighty. In the meantime . . . . his whining, self-absorbed followers decided they wanted to worship a golden calf instead. I could never imagine as I read this rendition that while the very Creator of the Universe was only a mountaintop away they could possibly want to bow to a baby cow molded from rings and things. “Silly, silly people” I would think. But recently I’ve been personally reminded about this act of worshiping in front of something other than the Almighty. After all, we are in a world of fingertip access to information, data, and facts. Our relationships are emailed, twittered or facebooked. We stay connected through Bluetooth, android, or iWhatevers. In the meantime our Lord is only a whisper away. We can have an intimate conversation with God, yet so often we choose a man-made machine instead. “Silly, silly us.”
If you have had the chance to watch any of the 2024 Olympic Summer Games in Paris, you have seen both the “thrill of victory” and the “agony of defeat.” I can only imagine what the athletes have thought and felt when extremely narrow margins have determined the outcomes of these competitions. The excitement of watching the performances of the individuals and the teams has included seeing how years of training has paid off in strong finishes or unexpected losses . . . It’s all been inspirational, and challenges me to put some of this in writing as I ponder what we can observe in the Olympics concerning the past, present, and future.
Living the Christian life. Living the Christian life in the military. Living the Christian life in the military during deployment. It’s all difficult, right? Some would say impossible, but we know better. On a scale of one to God, nothing is impossible.
Do you know what “waiting on the Lord” looks like to me? For our first family trip since my husband returned from his second deployment to Iraq, we decided to visit a friend in Colorado Springs. This was to be an important visit—a tender one—as this friend’s husband had been killed during that first deployment. But it is a long drive from central Texas to Colorado Springs, and attitude means everything.
The Strait of Gibraltar is a significant marker in our sea journey. To sailors of old, it was the last marker of the known world. To the strategist, Gibraltar represents a rock or fortress that will not move when all else is a mess. To the insurance company Prudential, it spawned a slogan “Like a rock.” To the psalmist, the rock represents the Lord as a fortress and deliverer from whom faith can be launched, sustained, and secured.
A friend in North Carolina introduced me to “standing for your marriage” as a concept and movement. I had always known there were those who refused to give up on their dying or dead marriage—but I had never heard it called “standing”. Since then I have paid close attention to articles, books, websites, testimonies, and seminars about standing. I know in the military community the stresses on a marriage can cause either the husband or wife—sometimes both—to say, “Enough! I’m done!”
When I see it—in actions, words, or formal presentation, it’s always a favorite combination . . . power with tenderness . . . When I first read Eric Blehm’s book on the life of Navy SEAL Adam Brown, "Fearless", I was struck by this description: “Known for his compassion, Adam was always the first to do something like break open a light stick for a baby to play with or give a candy bar to a terrified child. But he wasn’t the only one. In a group of men whose business is killing, the fury they release upon the enemy is rivaled only by the humanity they display for innocents caught in the crossfire.”
You’ve flown on airliners—and no doubt recall the flight attendant reminding you that “if there is a drop in cabin pressure, an oxygen mask will drop down. Pull it towards you, etc. etc. etc. and oxygen will begin flowing even if the bag does not inflate.” Something like that. Then the important reminder—“if you are traveling with small children, remember to put the oxygen mask on you first, and then put it on your children.” This seems counter-intuitive, but the point is—oxygen-starved parents cannot help their children. We recently returned from being with military members at a marriage conference. There we saw active-duty service members, along with a thousand other attendees at a Weekend to Remember, spending time to focus on their marriages. . . in some cases, to “pull down the oxygen mask.”
She was a strong woman. Perhaps that came from being the oldest of seven—no doubt a rowdy bunch. Perhaps it came from growing up during The Great Depression and having to work hard at home. Perhaps it came from having two pretty strict parents who expected a lot from their kids. She was strong even in the days when it might not have been the “norm” to be a strong woman.