You have heard it called many things—an A-Ha moment, a breakthrough, “it all came together,” “something clicked,” “my eyes were opened,” “the light bulb came on”. . . . all references to that time when a key element sinks into one’s thought processes and truth makes sense—perhaps for the first time. I often recall, and speak about, two A-Ha moments in my life. One was on an August evening in Weatherford, Oklahoma, in 1980 when my husband was TDY,...
It is a beautiful thing to see a couple get through something that challenges them in every area of their lives (like a deployment)—and because of faith they do not give up. When the deployment is over, they can look back over the months of discouragement/loneliness/fear and say with confidence, “My God took me through this.” And what if things did not go easily—struggles with children/finances/ temptations/health?
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.
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.”
I remember sitting on the front porch of our new quarters –you know, the “townhouses” crammed side-by-side around a parking lot. Kids everywhere. I remember speaking the words, “What in the world am I doing here?” and hoping no one heard me (yea, right—neighbors were in ear-shot of everything!).