A man came into the office a few weeks ago, a salesman for a metals company. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here. Young, he looked a little rough around the edges. He was dressed cleanly, but his shirt, which had seen better days was wrinkled and his tie didn’t begin to match the shirt.
I learned that “John” recently returned from Afghanistan and is working in full time sales, plus completing his education. He seems outwardly fragile, but must have enormous inner strength to maintain a demanding schedule after a life altering assignment in the Middle East. What he may have witnessed while overseas was probably unspeakable, horrors that have felled many fine soldiers. John came home and began swinging the bat, hoping to pick up the pieces of his life. I truly pray that he's successful.
Not the usual salesman we see around here, with crisp shirts and expensive ties. Extremely polite, he spoke with a plethora of yes ma’am and no ma’am, thank you ma’am.
He’s extremely timid. Nervous. His eyes are haunted. I’d seen that look before. More than once. I saw it in my own mirror during the earliest days of my PTSD therapy. When I wished I could die rather than face another day in unbearable pain.
After his meeting with the purchasing manager, I learned that “John” recently returned from Afghanistan after two tours in Iraq and is working in full time sales, plus completing his education.
Afghanistan. Iraq. The words that elicit visions of torn bodies, wrecked lives, bombed out buildings-places reeking of an amplified panic that few of us could imagine. What “John” may have witnessed while overseas were probably unspeakable horrors that felled many fine soldiers.
Now that I know his story, I worry for him. I pray for him.
He’s maintaining an extremely demanding schedule after a life altering time spent in a war zone. Yes, he’s a soldier and he’s trained for hardship.
But his eyes tell me that he’s running on empty. I’ve seen that look in my mirror too. Where you press on, knowing it’s not an option. But if one more brick is added to the load you may collapse and might never get up again.
“John” came home and began swinging the bat, hoping to pick up the pieces of his life. I pray that he's successful.
His haunted eyes and fragility. So unnecessary. A young man willing to fight in a war contrived by old men who are unable to fight the battle they set in motion. “John” is a young man willing to finish what the old guys started. He was willing to protect America so the rest of us could stay home and live our lives.
There’s a beauty in his sacrifice that can’t be adequately measured by the words “Thank you for your service.” Our soldiers don’t just serve. They give. Some have lost so much. Marriages, time spent with loved ones before the Lord took them home or babies who were born while they were away- children who saw them as strangers when they returned. The physical tolls. The mental tolls.
Jesus knew a thing or two about running on empty. Like all human flesh, he needed to rest, sleep and refresh. Often it wasn’t possible. There was work to be done. A Kingdom to be built, before it was time to die.
On the day of his crucifixion, the day Christians call Good Friday he was beaten so badly that he was nearly unrecognizable, so weakened that he was unable to carry his own cross to Golgotha.
NIV Luke 23:26 as the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.
Then Jesus was nailed to the cross, a crude contraption designed for maximum torture where he hung by his hands and feet for six agonizing hours until he died.
The Son of God was willing to pay the ultimate price, a necessary price to protect our souls by dying in the worst possible way. He was willing to give so we didn’t have to, so that the generations of souls to follow would be afforded the opportunity to spend eternity in Paradise.
There’s a beauty in his sacrifice that can be adequately measured in words. The most important words any of us can utter, and music to his ears.
“Thank you for dying for me Jesus, for loving me. I accept you as my Lord and Savior.”
Young people like “John” pay the price to finish the war, to see it through. God bless them for their honor, and their courage.
Nearly every war is contrived by old men who don’t see a moment’s battle.
Young people like “John” pay the price to finish the war, to see it through. God bless them for their honor, and their courage.
Michelle Close Mills ©
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