Think back to your childhood for a moment. After doing something you would come to regret, were you ever told by your parents that you were “just askin’ for trouble” when you committed that stupid act? Perhaps your response, like mine, was, "I wasn’t asking for trouble . . . it just happened!” The book of Proverbs would agree with your parents—or whoever has spoken wisdom into your life. Most of the time that we get into trouble, we know better.
Have you ever wondered. . . . Where in the world did we get the idea that sin has no consequences?
Stu Weber, the author of Tender Warrior and a Special Forces Vietnam War veteran, published a powerful book in 2007 entitled Infinite Impact. This work is rich in topics that will speak to the experiences of military couples reading Excellent or Praiseworthy. Today’s devotional will address an aspect of war with which many are struggling—that of deployment and R & R.
Most of us are familiar with waiting. We probably complain about it. “Not wasting time” is probably high on our New Year’s resolution lists. I’m a commercial airline pilot now, but when I was in the Air Force I spent a good amount of time on ground or airborne alert in the A-7 and A-10 Close Air Support business—waiting to scramble on the ground commander’s call. So I’m familiar with waiting, and with watching people wait.
During World War II the Germans became suspicious of the improved effectiveness of British pilots, especially at night. The British had a secret that made them so much more powerful than the German pilots - a secret that they covered for a time by leaking false information that they were feeding their pilots carrots in order to see better in the dark. Their secret was a newly-developed system called radar. . . Christians have their own not-so-secret weapon to help us navigate through hazards and stay on target – the Holy Spirit.
“Many people ask me how it feels to be the wife of a former serviceman. I can sum it up in one word: personal. It’s very personal because it’s now our story, our sacrifice, our time lost. Joe’s deployment to Iraq directly affected who we were and who we are today. Surviving the experience for Joe (physically and emotionally), and for me (psychologically and emotionally), taught us that living out our vows was overwhelmingly important and real."
Some of the biggest mistakes I have made were because I followed bad advice. I listened to the wrong “voices.” I thought that following current cultural trends was more important than following age-old wisdom. I thought that everyone’s motives were pure and that they knew what was best for me. I thought I could trust anyone with experience, even if that experience had led them into failure. I thought that many college degrees made a person an expert. I thought that an older generation couldn’t possibly relate to my contemporary situations. I thought that no one could possibly understand what I was going through unless they had “walked a mile in my shoes.” I thought that clichés like, “if it feels good, do it”. . . and “I’m okay, you’re okay” . . . and “there’s no such thing as black and white—everything is gray,” were true statements on which to base major decisions. And in a very contradictory way, I thought there was no such thing as truth—that humanism and situational ethics ruled the day. I was wrong, and many others with me. And there are consequences to bad choices.
We have turned the calendar’s page to 2024. Does that make you feel older? Certainly it marks a passage of time, and for those of you experiencing deployment that comes as good news or bad news. If you’re getting ready to come home, you probably want those days to pass quickly. If you’re waiting to deploy, you might want time to move slowly. But whether it moves slowly or quickly time is taking its toll on all of us and we’re growing older. That’s the truth of it. When my husband would come home from work during periods of time when an assignment was not going particularly well, I would ask him, “How was work today?” He would answer, “One more day off the tour!”
Life has been very difficult here lately. My husband is deployed, my five-year-old is struggling with ADHD—so I’m struggling, and I’m fighting a currently un-winnable battle with secondary infertility. It’s overwhelming and I often feel I’m drowning in my own swamp of worry.
We gathered for Bible study, but our friend's face was downcast . . . a sure sign that his soul was, too. We knew he was dealing with marital problems, but there was also the pressure of an impending deployment. All of this weighing on his heart, his future—his now. It’s hard to know what to say sometimes—most of the time, really. So I said something scriptural that I don’t even remember, then added something like “God knows what you are going through and He is with you”. I followed the simple truth with a smile, and then closed with “but you already know that.” I guess I expected my smile to be returned with his smile—an understanding between us that I was just trying to do my best to help, but failing. But that’s not what happened. Instead he said with emphasis, “I do already know that. But I need to be reminded. Thank you.” I got the distinct impression that he really meant it.