Good news story at a patrol base I went to. I held a service on the roof and shared a passage from the Gospel of John, chapter 20, about “doubting Thomas” and how his doubt actually turned out good because Christ came to him in his sincere questioning. Doubt is good if it causes us to seek the truth more. Then, once Thomas met the risen Lord, he called him “my Lord and my God.” The first one to use that phrase.
After the service, a young soldier came up to me and asked if I “had known about that verse.” I asked him what he meant. He said he thought his sergeant had told me about their conversation previously. He’s been to church three times, including one of my services, in the last year, and each time, the ministers have preached from that same passage . . . Wow.
He thought I knew about it and planned it for him. Once he figured out I didn’t, he was a bit freaked out. I said, “What are you waiting for?” After we talked for a little longer, he decided it was time to become a believer. We prayed right there, with his buddies watching, and he sincerely asked the Lord into his life. It was great. He’s no longer a “doubting Thomas.”
Darren
2
The basketball felt as comfortable in Darren’s hands as the Bible did. Underneath the scorching midday sun, he dribbled the ball, ready to set the attack. Michael jogged underneath the basket, then to the outside edge of the court. As they played a sweaty game of two-on-two alongside the tall walls that protected them, they were a unified team. Jacobsen was not their commanding officer but their enemy, along with Lance. For twenty minutes, four men in drenched army-issue T-shirts and shorts battled each other as hard as possible, as Shonda and Master Sergeant Russ Carter provided commentary and banter from the courtside picnic bench.
Just beyond their game, over the wall and out in the field, a group of Iraqi kids kicked around a soccer ball as joyfully as the men playing inside. The only difference was the danger of the ground they played on, and the violence that could rip it apart at any moment on any given day.
By now Darren had picked up Michael’s strengths, knew the rhythm of his movements. Seeing Michael jogging to the half-court line, Darren began to move toward the basket with the ball. Without even looking toward him, he passed the ball to his teammate, then stood still, setting the pick against Jacobsen. As the lieutenant colonel slammed against him, Michael swooped past and easily bounced in a lay-up.
“Good job,” Darren said as they gave each other a high five.
“Eighteen to seventeen,” Shonda called out.
Darren wiped the sweat off his forehead, then readied himself against their formidable opponents. Lance never stopped moving and never seemed to tire, while the older Jacobsen conserved his energy but was still machinelike in his shooting. The two of them dribbled and passed the ball back and forth, with Jacobsen beginning the attack by driving toward the middle. Darren spun around him to tap out the dribble, taking it away to midcourt.
Michael was already sprinting to the basket, ready for the pass.
“Open! I’m open!”
With no one near on the outside, Darren didn’t hesitate, but pulled up and shot. The basketball didn’t touch an inch of the rim as it dropped through. Michael grinned as he jogged back to Darren.
“Aw, man, I was open,” he teased.
“We didn’t need two points, boss. We needed three for twenty-one.”
“Yeah, whatever. Lucky shot. Or ya got help.” Michael nodded at the sky.
Darren chuckled and waved him off.
“All right, gentlemen, that’s game,” Sergeant Carter said behind them. “Shower up, we move out in thirty.”
“Next time I got the chaplain,” Jacobsen said with a big grin underneath his black shades.
Michael gave Darren a fist bump. “Good game, man.”
With the base alive with action, the two soldiers caught their breath and grabbed water bottles to chug. Darren knew this would be as good of a chance as any to give Michael the gift.
“Hey, before you head out, I’ve been meaning to give this to you.”
The God’s Armor coin shimmered as he offered it to Michael.
“Nah, dude. I’m good. I don’t do lucky charms.”
“It’s not about luck or the coin,” Darren said. “It’s a reminder of who to rely on—”
“If it ain’t gonna stop a bullet or defuse a bomb, I don’t need it.” He paused, noticing Darren was still holding the coin. “But if it makes you feel any better, I been talkin’ to Tonya.”
Darren gave him an affirming nod. “Good to hear.”
“Yeah, yeah—don’t get too excited. I don’t know what that wife of yours has her thinking you’re gonna do for me, but she keeps pushing me to talk to you. So—you know. Good talk today.”
As Michael walked away, Darren slipped the coin back into his pocket.
3
For a moment, the coffee cup made her stop. It was Darren’s favorite, one Elie enjoyed using for hot cocoa. As Heather held the wet mug with ARMY emblazoned on the side, the morning sun bursting through the window above the sink, she wondered what Darren was doing. She prayed and asked God for His protection over her husband.
At the same moment, Darren was speaking to thirty soldiers sitting on the ground or in folding chairs at Camp Bucca. The place was a detention facility for Iraqis and consisted of cinder block housing units, tent compounds, and a military hospital. This afternoon Darren was giving Communion to the soldiers who wanted to participate, and even though he had given the same message earlier that morning, he still spoke with urgency and passion.
“So my kids love to play battle,” he told the watchful faces. “My son Sam has this whole outfit he puts on—the helmet, the chest plate, shield, and sword. He goes all out, but to him it’s still a game. My daughter, Elie, however—she’s an old soul. She sensed the danger ahead.”
As he spoke, Darren could see Michael and Lance in the back listening. The sound of gunfire cracked in the distance, forcing everyone’s attention to look to their left for a moment.
“So before I left, I sat Elie down and reminded her. I told her about something everyone who believes in a good and mighty God knows, or at least senses, but something that’s also easy to forget. I said I have an armor unlike any other protecting me.”
Darren didn’t know that at the same moment, Elie was reading about a group of young warriors in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. In its pages, she imagined herself as being as brave as Lucy.
“This armor has the power to conquer all my fear because it guarantees life beyond the grave,” Darren shared. “The power to flood my soul with peace even in the most terrifying circumstances, because I trust in a God who promises never to leave us.”
He didn’t need to try to get these guys’ attention. They had chosen to be there, and all of them were in the same boat. Their fears were real and had become part of the routine of life. Some of the faces nodded understanding as Darren spoke, while others tried to make sense of what he was explaining.
This was a typical field service, consisting of some prayer requests shared, a song or two, a short sermon like this one, and Communion. Out in this place, Communion meant so much; it was a great picture of all of them receiving Christ and His presence with them, a very welcome thing in the savage spaces in which they lived. The informal and laid-back services were only thirty minutes long. Anything more would be too much for the attention span of tired soldiers.
“So I told my Elie I’d be safe. But I also told her that by trusting God, that same armor will keep her safe too. As it will your family. Yes, we’re in a form of hell right now. But by trusting in the promises of His armor, we can find peace.”
While Darren spoke, Sam sat on the couch at home, coloring a picture of a soldier wearing armor, putting an extra coat of gold crayon over it just to make sure he colored in every inch.
The short message Darren gave concluded with a line of soldiers receiving Communion. With each individual, he held up the cracker in one hand and the
miniature cup in the other.
“The body of our Lord broken for you. The blood of our Lord shed for you.”
4
The lone figure sitting on the picnic table near the perimeter wall hadn’t escaped his attention as he spoke. After all the men had taken Communion and gone on their way, Darren walked over to sit beside the soldier he already knew well. Her rifle rested in her lap.
“Long day?” he asked.
Her thin, uneasy smile and silent nod reminded him of the first few times he’d ever spoken with her, of how guarded she had been. By now he knew something was bothering her, and he would have bet it had nothing to do with the army.
“You’re doing a great job, Shonda. You know that, right?”
“Does it really matter? If I’m a failure as a mom?”
She paused, looking the other way as if hating herself for admitting this. Darren waited, feeling no rush to respond.
Help often came in the waiting and the listening.
“It’s true,” she continued. “A few months after Colby was born, I started finding excuses to not be home. Acting like it was to provide for him, but . . . I got so used to it, I don’t think he’d remember being with me if I—”
“Hey, I got news for you. It’s not too late to fix that. So let’s just do it.”
“But how, when I’m here and he’s there? It’s too late.”
Thick tears pooled in her eyes, refusing to spill out.
“It’s never too late,” Darren said. “You’ll be surprised to know all the things your kids might remember. All we’re asked to do is try. To keep loving them no matter what.”
“Here I have training. I know what I’m doing. But nobody ever taught me how to be a good mother, a good parent.”
Darren only laughed. “A thousand books all say something different. You learn by doing it.”
“But I can’t parent, not from out here,” she said.
“You absolutely can—”
Before he could continue that thought, they heard Sergeant Carter’s familiar call. “Let’s go! We’re movin’ out!”
They stood and started to walk toward the convoy. Darren made sure he pressed pause on the conversation instead of trying to wrap it up.
“We’ll talk about this later. But trust me, God’s got a thing about letting us think it’s too late.”
5
Heather heard the footsteps rushing into a bedroom, then couldn’t hear another sound. With the kitchen cleaned up for the time being at least, she walked down the hallway to see what the kids were up to. As she stood in the doorway to Elie’s bedroom, she saw both Elie and her brother kneeling beside the bed.
“Right now, God, please protect Daddy, wherever he might be,” Elie said as she rubbed the coin her father had given to her. “Watch over him and keep Daddy safe from the enemy.”
Sam knelt beside her, a pair of Darren’s combat boots on the floor beside him.
“Kids?”
Sam looked up and then jumped to grab her arm, pulling her to the bed.
“Mommy, hurry,” he said.
Heather wasn’t going to question their prayers. Instead, she knelt beside them and closed her eyes while Elie continued to pray.
“And bring Daddy home safe, Jesus. And Mia and Nia’s daddy too.”
After Heather prayed for Darren, Sam stood up and gave a confident “In Jesus’ name. Amen.” Then he gave a series of karate kicks and chops in the air. “Kiii—yaaa!”
Now that was a way to end a prayer. Heather knew God listened to their prayers, and that He watched over her husband. Perhaps the children somehow knew or felt something. Perhaps the Holy Spirit was leading them in the mysterious way He moved.
Be with him, Lord.
6
The prayers were heard, and indeed, were necessary. Only moments after standing to prepare to leave, a piercing blast ripped through the outside perimeter wall. Debris rained down on Darren and Shonda as they were thrown to the ground. Darren noticed his Bible had fallen out of his jacket and landed several feet away from him in the dirt. He began to crawl toward it.
“Let’s go! Now!” Shonda said, yanking him by the shirt and then leading him away.
Darren knew he had other Bibles. He had only one life.
They ran to a nearby cement wall that was under construction. Shonda dived behind it with Darren following, while all around them soldiers scattered for cover.
The next mortar landed inside the compound, louder and shaking the ground. It was followed by one even closer, an explosion obliterating the picnic table where they had just been sitting. Darren looked in horror at the gaping hole filling the space where they had been moments before. Rapid cracks of gunfire resounded outside camp.
“This is Oscar 2. We are pinned down on the northeast corner!”
Shonda was next to him, barking into the radio. More gunfire popped nearby as the attack siren in the camp began to whine. The large, sporadic roar of the .50-caliber came from the nearby tower above them.
“Head for the bunker!” the voice on the radio told them.
That’s Michael’s voice.
Shonda looked around. “Where? I don’t see a bunker. Repeat. Over!”
The radio was silent as sets of gunfire sounded from different areas.
“Chaplain! When I move, you move!”
There was no time to reply, to think, to even comprehend. Darren just acted and reacted, standing and sprinting after Shonda. He swallowed but his throat felt dry, the taste of sand and acid on his tongue. Above the scattered gunfire, a high-pitched whine sounded, getting louder and closer as they—
The wall exploded, sending bits of concrete everywhere. Darren stumbled, blacked out for a second, then opened his eyes, unsure where he really was. The ringing in his ears prevented him from hearing any of the soldiers shouting at him nearby.
His body shaking, Darren sat up, dizzy and still not sure what had just happened. Shonda appeared over him, as if she was acting as a shield to any more incoming mortar. Then he could see Michael and three other soldiers running.
They’re desperate to get someone.
“Get up!” Michael yelled at him. “Come on, get up! We gotta move.”
Darren realized the men had come for him.
“Chaplain, let’s go!” Shonda ordered.
He couldn’t balance himself, and for a moment Darren thought he might tumble back over. The world spun around and his head ached.
Have I been hit?
“Chaplain! Get up!” Michael shouted, grabbing his hand and then yanking him up.
Suddenly they were moving fast, with Michael’s arm around his neck, basically pulling Darren along.
“Jackson, we’re coming to you,” Michael shouted into the radio as he led the way.
By the time they made it to the bunker, Shonda was helping lead Darren past the door. Soon they were all inside with the door safely shut. Michael carefully lowered him against a wall as Darren sucked in air and tried to have a straight thought once again.
“Hey, you’re gonna be okay,” Michael said. “Neighbor, you’re gonna be okay.”
Darren could only look up at him but couldn’t answer. He couldn’t do a thing but just breathe.
“Props for the help, Major,” Shonda said.
Michael simply gave her a nod, then went back out the door to see who else he could help. Shonda knelt beside Darren, offering him a water bottle and then helping him lift it to his lips.
7
With the kids all fed and outside, Heather and Tonya were finally able to sit down and eat. The August day was sweltering, so the sprinkler set up for the children to play around was more refreshing than fun. The mothers could hear the laughter outside as they talked, with Meribeth still in her high chair playing with the remnants of her animal crackers. Heather told her friend how the kids had suddenly stopped what they were doing earlier that morning and prayed.
“I’ve never seen Elie pray like that before. It was intense, like she s
ensed something very specific was happening.”
Tonya reached over and grabbed her arm, her eyes wide open.
“What? What is it?”
“I’m going to give that girl a list of things to pray for, that’s what,” Tonya said.
“Why? What have you heard?”
It was a question all the wives carried around with them every single day as they waited and listened and hoped.
“There was a mortar attack,” Tonya said.
Heather stood up. “What? When? Are they okay?”
Tonya nodded, pulling on Heather’s arm and speaking in a calm tone. “They were visiting other bases for officer meetings.”
“Tonya. Are they okay?”
“Yes, they’re okay.”
“My gosh.” Heather sat down, breathing and gaining control over her emotions. “Why didn’t he call and tell me?”
“Girl, something like that happens, your man is busy.”
“I know, but—I mean . . . Ugh, I know.” Heather sighed, realizing this was still so new, that she was still learning as she went. It had only been a little over three months. “Still, I just feel like something more is happening between Darren and me.”
“Between you two?” Tonya said. “Honey, trust me. It’s not between you two. It’s between you two and that war.”
8
August 21, 2007
Hey, friends and family. This isn’t going be a very pleasant journal entry. Friday a mortar attack at one of the bases we were visiting resulted in the loss of a couple of guys. As they always do, the attack came out of nowhere and it was harrowing, hard stuff to deal with. I’m exhausted. Everyone is. Been counseling since then for the last four days since it happened, and I’m not done. Many tears, hugs, and long silences. Words fail. Just being there with them and hurting with them.
The memorial ceremony is tomorrow night. Please pray for me to be strong and courageous. The ceremonies are supposed to be more patriotic than religious in nature, but I have a good rapport with my guys. I want/need to be bold with the true hope of the gospel, not preachy but real with them. “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world”—Jesus (John 16:33). They so desperately want out of the trouble, but it’s my challenge to help them through it. God rarely rescues us out of the trouble, but promises to be with us in it. Through the pain and loss. God can be found by those who choose to look for Him. That’s all I have. That’s what they need. Slick advice and clichés are empty, hollow.
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