I accepted Jesus as savior at age eleven. Over the next twelve years, being a Christain faded into a vague ideal of truth that everyone sought in one way or another. At twenty three, I volunteered for the draft to get my military obligation over with, secretly hoping three years of college engineering and summers working on a survey crew would keep me out of the infantry.
My logic didn't coincide with the military. After four months of training a Boeng 707 disgourged me at Ben Hoe, South Vietnam. The Repo Depot at Di An sent me to a line company somewhere between Saigon and the Cambodian Border. Where was God? He obviously missed his chance to keep me out of harms way.
Life got real serious real fast. The other fellow who came into the company with me was killed our first day out in the jungle. A short round fell ten feet behind me while three others guys were helping to carry out one of the wounded. They became instant casualities while I stood there dumb founded, still hanging onto one corner of the make-shift litter. Someone commented on how lucky I was. In my heart I knew it wasn't "luck" but my view of God didn't include instant mericles, especially when I hadn't prayed or given much thought to God at all. I certainly didn't have faith enough to expect God to protect or shield me from bullets and snrapnel. I was terrified and still had over 350 days left of my tour.
As days turned to weeks and then months, constant fear became normal. My job was to walk point every third day while out in the jungle and rice paddies. Life expectancy was maybe a month, two at most for point men. God performed more and more miricles that continually saved my life while those around me were sent home heavily bandaged or in body bags. Survivors guilt kept me walking point for ten months. Luck had nothing to do with it but I was still afraid to trust God completely. Nothing I learned growing up could explain the mercy and grace that poured out on me.
I can't say I became a "true believer" even after all the mericles God had done. When I came home, all I wanted was to return to being the person I was before the war. Why had God saved me? Was I supposed to be some kind of missionary to Africa, or some great evangelist? Surely God wouldn't do what He did without some great plan for me to fulfill.
I certainly didn't feel great. In fact, synptoms of PTSD started flaring up long before it was recognized by anyone. Flashes of anger, guilt, depression, flash backs and nightmares kept me from becoming anyone great. I thought if I denied my experiences strongly enough and buried them deeply enough, they couldn't bother me. After thirty years, my emotional strength and self image hit bottom - forcing me to admit I couldn't go on without help.
That was the time I could hear God's small voice say, "OK, you've tried it your way all these years, now you want to try it My way?" My wife and I had gone to church most Sundays but I never heard anyone talk about God's view of war. Of course He didn't like it, didn't want it to happen; but it did anyway. All those kids who didn't make it home - they could have done so much better at life than I had. Why was I physically saved, only to wind up an emotional cripple? Obviously, my view of God didn't represent what I'd experienced.
Wish I could say God answered all my questions in an instant flash of revelation. No, it came slowly and my hope is that other combat veterans don't have to wait as long as it took me to realize God is bigger than my understanding. I was no one special but God said it was simply pleasing to Him that i came home safely. War is a part of human nature. God won't force us to love Him and won't change the heart of anyone who doesn't want to change. At the same time, He uses all things for our good and His glory when we love and trust in Him - that wasn't me back in Vietnam, but it's becoming me now.
I can't explain it in words of understanding. Life is a process, not just a series of events. Let Him change you.
My logic didn't coincide with the military. After four months of training a Boeng 707 disgourged me at Ben Hoe, South Vietnam. The Repo Depot at Di An sent me to a line company somewhere between Saigon and the Cambodian Border. Where was God? He obviously missed his chance to keep me out of harms way.
Life got real serious real fast. The other fellow who came into the company with me was killed our first day out in the jungle. A short round fell ten feet behind me while three others guys were helping to carry out one of the wounded. They became instant casualities while I stood there dumb founded, still hanging onto one corner of the make-shift litter. Someone commented on how lucky I was. In my heart I knew it wasn't "luck" but my view of God didn't include instant mericles, especially when I hadn't prayed or given much thought to God at all. I certainly didn't have faith enough to expect God to protect or shield me from bullets and snrapnel. I was terrified and still had over 350 days left of my tour.
As days turned to weeks and then months, constant fear became normal. My job was to walk point every third day while out in the jungle and rice paddies. Life expectancy was maybe a month, two at most for point men. God performed more and more miricles that continually saved my life while those around me were sent home heavily bandaged or in body bags. Survivors guilt kept me walking point for ten months. Luck had nothing to do with it but I was still afraid to trust God completely. Nothing I learned growing up could explain the mercy and grace that poured out on me.
I can't say I became a "true believer" even after all the mericles God had done. When I came home, all I wanted was to return to being the person I was before the war. Why had God saved me? Was I supposed to be some kind of missionary to Africa, or some great evangelist? Surely God wouldn't do what He did without some great plan for me to fulfill.
I certainly didn't feel great. In fact, synptoms of PTSD started flaring up long before it was recognized by anyone. Flashes of anger, guilt, depression, flash backs and nightmares kept me from becoming anyone great. I thought if I denied my experiences strongly enough and buried them deeply enough, they couldn't bother me. After thirty years, my emotional strength and self image hit bottom - forcing me to admit I couldn't go on without help.
That was the time I could hear God's small voice say, "OK, you've tried it your way all these years, now you want to try it My way?" My wife and I had gone to church most Sundays but I never heard anyone talk about God's view of war. Of course He didn't like it, didn't want it to happen; but it did anyway. All those kids who didn't make it home - they could have done so much better at life than I had. Why was I physically saved, only to wind up an emotional cripple? Obviously, my view of God didn't represent what I'd experienced.
Wish I could say God answered all my questions in an instant flash of revelation. No, it came slowly and my hope is that other combat veterans don't have to wait as long as it took me to realize God is bigger than my understanding. I was no one special but God said it was simply pleasing to Him that i came home safely. War is a part of human nature. God won't force us to love Him and won't change the heart of anyone who doesn't want to change. At the same time, He uses all things for our good and His glory when we love and trust in Him - that wasn't me back in Vietnam, but it's becoming me now.
I can't explain it in words of understanding. Life is a process, not just a series of events. Let Him change you.
