Copyright by Bob Rogers.
When I was in the seventh grade, Dad was stationed at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn, New York, in order to attend a nine-month Army Chaplain’s School. Almost every family on the post was there because of a chaplain attending the school. That meant all of the kids were “preacher’s kids,” and all of the families were new, because we would be transferred after a year and a whole new group would come the following school year. The school year was 1970-71. We could see the twin towers of the original World Trade Center under construction across the Hudson River. I went to Public School 104, which was in an Irish-Catholic neighborhood. It was a good school, with strict discipline and excellent academics.
Soon after school started that fall, we learned that on Wednesday afternoons they had “release time.” This was when students got out of school early and could go to their house of worship for religious education, if they wished. On that first Wednesday, all of us Protestant chaplains’ kids, being brand new, simply followed our Catholic friends down the street to their church and went to catechism. Then we returned to school in time to catch the Army bus back to Fort Hamilton.
Needless to say, the phones were ringing off the hook that night when we started telling our parents what kind of notebooks the nuns wanted us to buy for catechism. It only took one week for those chaplains and spouses to organize a Protestant religious education class for us to attend.
But what really got some parents rattled was what happened to my little sister Nancy and some of her friends during their first “release time.” Nancy, who was in second grade, and a few other Protestant chaplains’ daughters, went to the Catholic class but they missed the bus ride home. Their parents had the military police frantically searching the streets of New York for them. Imagine: little girls from places like Kansas, Texas and Mississippi, all lost on the streets of Brooklyn! When the girls were found, they didn’t know they had been lost.
Jesus said that he came to seek and save people who were lost (Luke 19:10). He told parables about a lost sheep, lost coin, and lost (prodigal) son, to illustrate how God goes to great lengths to find people (see Luke 15). Many don’t even know they are lost.
Ironically, my sister Nancy now lives in Brooklyn. She lives there with her husband Alex, and she rides the subway like a native. She doesn’t get lost there anymore; it’s her home. Likewise, when people turn to faith in Christ, they too are no longer lost. Like my sister, they have found their home at last.
(This story will be part of my upcoming book about taking a humorous yet serious look at the Christian life, called, Standing by the Wrong Graveside.)
Article copyright by Bob Rogers.
In the Hebrew scriptures, Abraham may have been the father of faith, and Moses the giver of the law, but David was the “comeback kid.” Look at all the times David made a comeback:
David overcame his size (1 Samuel 16). He was the youngest son of Jesse, yet the prophet Samuel chose to anoint him as the next king.
David overcame his giant (1 Samuel 17). He faced down the giant Goliath when others fled, and won!
David overcame his defeat (1 Samuel 30). When the Amalekites raided his camp and kidnapped his wives, David’s men were ready to kill him. But David found strength in the Lord, and led his men to victory, recovering his family and all that had been taken from them.
David overcame his sin (1 Samuel 11-12). He abused his power to exploit the beautiful Bathsheba, then ordered her husband put on the front lines to die. Yet when confronted by the prophet Nathan for his adultery and murder, David confessed his sin, repented, and experienced the grace of God’s forgiveness.
David overcame his sorrow (1 Samuel 12). Despite his repentance, David suffered the consequences of his sin in the death of his infant child. Yet when he realized the child had died, David rose from his grief and worshiped his God.
David overcame a rebellion (1 Samuel 15-17). His own son Absalom led a revolt against the king, but David was able to win the battle and retake his throne.
David overcame his pride (1 Samuel 24). Proud of his mighty army, he took a census of his troops. This brought on the judgment of God, but again David humbled himself and was forgiven.
Are you despairing, distressed, defiled and defeated? Like David, find your strength in God. His grace can give you a comeback, too!
Snoop: A Spiritual Memoir of a Vietnam Army Grunt (Published by Parables, 2016), by C. Wayne Harrison, is a 98-page book that tells stories of war, grouped together for devotional reflection. That may sound like an unusual approach, but Harrison makes it work.
Harrison was a private in the U.S. Army, who fought in the jungles in the Vietnam War in 1969-1970. Today he is Baptist minister in Booneville, Mississippi. In ten short chapters, he recalls his desire to be a soldier and relates in vivid detail the horrors he experienced in the war. Although the stories tend to move chronologically from early in his life through his year in Vietnam, the chapters are more thematic in nature, with titles such as, “The Heart of a Soldier,” “The Hands of a Soldier,” “The Hardships of a Soldier,” etc. Each chapter opens with a passage from the Bible, then focuses on stories that relate to the theme of the chapter, followed by some discussion questions and a prayer.
The reader identifies with the young man, who is nicknamed “Snoop” because of his lapel pin of Snoopy, the dog who imagined he was a fighter pilot, in the “Peanuts” comic strip. Some descriptions of war in the book may be disturbing to young readers, and the stories certainly are sobering even to mature readers. I believe Harrison’s writing will connect well with soldiers who read the book, and would make an excellent resource for military chaplains or anybody, especially soldiers, who are willing to reflect on God’s purpose for their lives.
The book is well-written, using excellent images and descriptions, and is easy to read, although I noticed a typo on p. 64, where the word “scar” was spelled “scare.” There are black-and-white photos of Harrison as a young soldier in the back of the book. In interest of full disclosure, I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author, with no obligation to write a favorable review.
(This guest blog is by my father, retired Chaplain (Lt. Col.) Robert H. Rogers, pictured here in 1969 with our family before he left for Vietnam, and as he looks today, with my mother. Here my Dad reflects upon Memorial Day through the harsh experiences of his first days as a chaplain in the Vietnam War. I appreciate my father’s service to our country. It was a great sacrifice for him and our family, as we spent a year apart from him while he was at war, and my mom had to take care of me, in the sixth grade, and my younger brother, Todd, and sister, Nancy. It was 1969-1970.)
I have many memories. Just a few days after I had arrived in Vietnam as a relatively young Army Chaplain, I was introduced to the reality of war. I flew out to a forward base in a helicopter and was dropped off with the expectation that I would come back to our base on the resupply helicopter later that day. But that helicopter never came because of a fire fight the company got into with a contingent of the North Vietnamese army. It was away from the compound where I and a few of the company waited. During this fight, the company commander and several others were killed. So after spending the night there I was asked to have a memorial service for those who had lost their lives. I did so even though I was totally unprepared both mentally and emotionally. That was the first of many memorial services I conducted during my year in Vietnam. I remember these and those who have died in all of our wars.
I also remember the sacrifice of those who fought but survived. I have some church friends who are veterans of Word War II. One of them spent about 24 hours floating with his life jacket after the ship he was on was shot out from under him. I remember his service and many others like him. I am grateful to them and to God for the free country we live in.
(This is a guest blog from my cousin, Brad Alford, shown here with his fiance, Laura Tucker. Brad is a Lieutenant in the United States Army, and veteran of Afghanistan. A big thanks to Brad for taking time to write his thoughts, and most of all for his service to our country.)
Memorial Day is definitely a day to sit and enjoy time with family. This is my first Memorial Day since my tour to Afghanistan. I can tell you that as a veteran now, holidays are much more special. Memorial Day is a day that is reserved for those who have fought but more importantly to me it is reserved for those who have died for our nation and its freedoms. I am currently out at a lake in Campbellsville, KY with my fiance and family. I couldn’t be happier than where I am at currently in my life. Holidays are important to enjoy with friends and family, but it is important to remember the reason for the holiday. Like Christmas, it is very much distorted sometimes into what is more convenient for everyone.
For me, Memorial Day is a day for me to spend time with family and friends, relax and take time away from the daily grind of work. Last year, I was in the middle of Kajran, Daykundi Province, Afghanistan. We were on a 2 day mission out to the district center to spread democracy and security for the locals. We would have weekly, sometimes bi weekly, shura’s about local security. No matter the pain of what I went through last year in Afghanistan, while a great sacrifice, pales in comparison to the ultimate sacrifice that those before me made and those after me will continue to make.