Category: Military

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A Chaplain’s Accountability to the Church and the Military

It’s important to know that a clergy entering the military as a chaplain or chaplain candidate will have several lines of authorities to answer to. First, of course, is the military chain of command. The chaplain always works for the commander as the commander’s personal staff officer. In this way, every chaplain is held accountable to military standards, in addition to having an opportunity to offer moral, ethical, and spiritual input. Second, the chaplain works for the installation chaplain or the next higher command chaplain. In other words, the chaplain has a technical chain that begins with a senior supervisory chaplain and goes directly to the Chief of Chaplains, ensuring that every chaplain is held accountable to Chaplain Corps standards and methodology. Third, the chaplain has an endorser or denominational “chain of command.” This relationship ensures that the chaplain maintains the theological and lifestyle standards as a representative of his or her faith group.

When you serve as a military chaplain, make it a priority to stay in touch with your church, faith group, and endorser. Send in the reports on time. Live up to your ordination vows. Pay your tithes or dues. If your endorser or faith group doesn’t require these actions, consider doing them anyway. It’s important for you as a chaplain to remember your roots. The chaplain comes from the church and will more than likely want to return to church ministry at some point. So, you can’t afford to lose touch with your denomination. Communication is crucial.

One of the ways many endorsers and denominational offices attempt to stay in touch with their chaplains is by asking the chaplains to send a monthly, quarterly, or annual report. Too many chaplains won’t submit the requested information. Here’s a hint: make up your mind from the start that you will send whatever report they ask for.

But the communication between chaplain and endorser has to be a two-way street. In today’s ever-changing environment in the military, it is extremely important that chaplains and endorsers communicate regularly. There are many ways this communication can take place. Some endorsers conduct periodic Zoom/FaceTime/WebX/Google meetings with their chaplains. Many send out newsletters, while others use social media to connect with chaplains, and chaplains with endorsers. We have to remember that communication is the key. When we communicate with each other, we provide a layer of accountability that endorsers and chaplains need in their ministry.

Another crucial concept is that although culture changes, the Gospel does not. Ministerial methods may change, but the message we are trying to communicate to those we serve does not change. The endorser provides leadership for those representing the church in the military, and chaplains need to walk within the guidelines of their particular faith group.

From the book Military Ministry: Chaplains in the Twenty-First Century by Paul E. Linzey and B. Keith Travis.

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Ministry in a Cultural Context

Every chaplain already has the required ministerial experience, education, and other qualifications, so the initial officer training is designed to prepare you mentally, emotionally, and tactically for the service you have entered. Each armed service has its own culture, worldview, and language, and these are important. Therefore, chaplains must get ready to live, work, and minister in that environment. There are some cross trainable tasks for all of the Armed Services Chaplaincies, but the important thing is that you learn these tasks best within the backdrop of the service God has called you to.

When I was a rookie chaplain, my first chaplain mentor said to me, “Here’s my philosophy of serving as a military chaplain: ministry follows friendship. If you love your soldiers and spend time with them and they know you like them, then they’ll come to you when they want to talk about their spiritual need. Just love them, spend time with them, and trust the Holy Spirit to draw them. When they are ready to talk about the Lord, they’ll know who to go to.”

In the same way pastors and missionaries have to learn the cultural context of the people they’re called to serve, chaplains need to understand the new world they’re going to be living in and ministering in for the next twenty years. You need to know the mentality, the lingo, the expectations, and the dress code. You have to know what you can and cannot do, the limitations of your authority, and the freedoms you have in ministry.

Sometimes, there’s a fine line between behavior that earns a medal, and activity that gets you in trouble, so you have to be able to discern the differences and know who you can go to for guidance and accountability. If you do it right, you’ll set yourself up for a successful career of effective ministry, while meeting new people and making friendships that’ll last a lifetime.

The painting below was by Don Stivers on the 100th Anniversary of the United States Army Reserve. I was assigned to the Chaplains Office at the US Army Reserve Headquarters at Fort McPherson, GA at the time, and bought this print. The picture shows some of the many activities and people that military chaplains have served over the past hundred+ years.

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Abandon Ship!

I was a young sailor on June 4, 1942, when the USS Yorktown was sunk in the Battle of Midway. We were only three miles from land—straight down! And that is where our great aircraft carrier still rests today as a tomb for some eighty-six of our friends whose lives so suddenly ended on that tragic day.

The best of the American and Japanese navies were in full conflict at the Battle of Midway, and we already had taken three bomb hits. Our hangar deck was in flames from one bomb, another had set fire to our fourth deck, and a third had exploded in the stack and blown out the fires in our boilers. We all felt the ominous silence of dead engines as we floated lifeless in the water!

At 2:00 P.M., our engineers had just gotten the ship’s engines started again when the next wave of Japanese attack planes came roaring in and dropped their torpedoes for the kill. That was more than a half century ago, and yet I can hear the agitated voice that spoke over the headphones and loudspeakers as if it were yesterday: “Stand by for torpedo attack!”

I can still close my eyes and shudder at the memory of the thudding of the two torpedoes as they struck us on the port (left) side. I was down on the third deck at water level when they blasted the side of our ship and ripped huge holes in our hull, and I can still remember how the ship lifted into the air with the impact of the explosions. As the water rushed in, the great aircraft carrier listed to the port side at twenty-seven degrees until the very edge of the hangar deck was dipping into the water. Inside the ship, there was nothing like a deck or a bulkhead, for every surface was lying at an angle and making it almost impossible to maneuver from one compartment to another. Water mains were broken and were spewing forth water, and the lights were out. Only the blue battle lamps illuminated the scene.

I will never forget the last command of Captain Elliott Buckmaster. A chill went through all of us as we heard his fateful words: “Abandon ship!”

In the following hectic hours, we struggled for survival. We had little time to think of the many friends we were leaving behind in the depths of the ship. If we were having trouble with a loss of electricity and broken water lines at the third deck, surely the men below us were flooded with little hope of survival. Yet, in spite of the jeopardy of our condition, I recall the disciplined calm among our sailors as we worked our way up through the destruction. Well trained for such a calamity, we helped each other find our way to the surface and then slid down two-inch lines into the oil-covered sea.

History has recorded the battle strategies, the mistakes, the glories, and the tragedies of the war at sea. The Battle of the Coral Sea, in which the Yorktown was first damaged, turned back the southern expansion of the Japanese Empire; the Battle of Midway, where she was sunk, was the turning point of the Pacific War. We look back now and see the entire Pacific Theater of the war from beginning to end—the Japanese expansion in Asia and the Pacific Islands, the attack on Pearl Harbor that brought America into the war, the prisoner-of-war camps, the raising of the U.S. flag on Iwo Jima, the atomic bomb attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the signing of the unconditional surrender on the deck of the battleship USS Missouri. Much has been said, written, and documented on film, but what history does not remember is that wars are not composed of the grand battles alone but of the personal challenges, tragedies, sacrifices, and faith of individuals caught up in the greater conflict.

History does not remember that at the very time when the survivors of the Yorktown were fighting for their lives, in the thick oil slick that surrounded the sinking vessel, many individuals and churches in America were praying. My own wife was seized with a deep burden for prayer, and just before the battle, I had one of the most outstanding spiritual experiences of my life. To all that has been written, I am adding my voice to say, “God was at Midway!”

This is an excerpt from the book, Dead in the Water, written by Stanford E. Linzey, and republished with a new introduction by my brother, S. Eugene Linzey, and an afterword by me. It is available on Amazon and on this website. The painting of the ship is by contemporary artist, Richard W. DeRosset.

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I Wish I Were Catholic

Celebrating Christ’s resurrection is one of the high points of the year for many Christians, both Protestant and Catholic, and to start the day without mortars made it even better. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t hot yet. We enjoyed the music and I preached on the love of God. At the end of the message, I asked everyone to repeat a prayer of commitment to the Lord. Two people confessed faith in Christ for the first time, and it was an awesome celebration of the Resurrection.

The joy and camaraderie continued as we transitioned from worship to fellowship, with twenty-seven of us going to have lunch together. The DFAC staff had decided to make Easter Sunday a special event, so the entire dining area was decorated in Easter colors and themes: banners, a huge Easter Bunny, streamers, and a special holiday menu. The food was always good, with a lot of options. But today we could select whatever our family’s traditional Easter feast was back home: ham, turkey, roast beef, pumpkin pie. They also brought in a sound system and played music all afternoon.

It was just a wonderful day: worship, celebrating the Risen Lord, fellowship with good brothers and sisters in Christ, great weather, and really good food.

After the last of our group left, I decided to go back to the office. The senior chaplain at Camp Victory required each chaplain to send a weekly report. As I was writing the email around two-thirty in the afternoon, I heard the sirens, so I put on my Kevlar vest and helmet and ran down the hall to go out to the bunker, as shrapnel and gravel pelted the roof of the one-story building. The three explosions were really close.

I ducked into the bunker outside the door, the Colonel and Sergeant Major soon joining me. Just three of us this time. On a typical day there might be more than a dozen of us crammed in there.

After we heard the all-clear signal, I said, “Sir, it’s been fun chatting with you, but if you’ll excuse me, I have to run over to the clinic to see if we have any casualties.”

“OK, Chaps. Let me know.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

The medical clinic was a buzz of activity when I rushed in the front door. About twenty-five people crammed into a lobby that had only a dozen chairs. Six on one side facing the six on the other side. Not your typical waiting room, this area was mostly a place to drop your gear before going in to see a doc or nurse, or before going in to visit a patient.

“How many?” I asked the guy behind the counter.

“Four so far, Chaplain. No deaths reported as far as I know.”

“Thanks.”

“May I go in?” I asked.

“Sure, Chaplain. Go on in.”

When I asked one soldier how he was doing, he began to mutter, and there were tears in his eyes. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, and assumed he was crying because of the pain. He mumbled something again. Then I understood his words and his tears. “I’m hurt, but my best friend is dead.”

“Your friend is dead?” I needed to clarify, because nobody had mentioned this to me.

“Yes. He was standing right next to me. The mortar landed on the other side of him, cutting him in half instantly. My injuries are nothing compared to what happened to him. He saved my life.”

I rushed out to see the receptionist. “Have you guys heard anything about someone being killed in that mortar attack?”

“No, not yet.”

Just then, a Sergeant Major ran in. I hadn’t seen him before. “Chaplain, we need you to come with us. We have a dead soldier and we have to evacuate him immediately. Are you a Catholic priest?”

Others from the unit started pouring into the clinic. During the next half-hour, more than a hundred people asked the same question, “Are you Catholic? Are you a priest?”

Never in my life did it hurt so much to say I was not Catholic. I wanted so badly to say, “Yes, I am a priest.”

The Soldier who died was the most popular guy in the unit. Many of the visiting Soldiers were Catholic, including him. After the dust and smoke cleared, everyone saw him lying on the ground. They were traumatized. He was, in a way, their emotional and spiritual leader–a devout, godly, personable man who cared deeply about each of them. His fellow soldiers loved and respected him. Now they needed a Roman Catholic Priest.

I conducted a flight-line memorial service as the helicopter crew prepared to take off. The men and women of the unit formed a double line extending from the medical clinic to the evac helicopter, wide enough for the funeral procession to march between the saluting soldiers. It was a tragic, but impressive sight. As the Blackhawk rotors thundered overhead, making it almost impossible to hear, I prayed and committed his soul to God. A Catholic chaplain would have to administer Last Rites somewhere else along the way.

For all Christians, the Resurrection of Jesus Christ is a celebration of life over death, healing after hurting, and overcoming suffering. I had experienced all of it in one day, the good and the bad, and had no idea what the next day or two would bring.

This is an excerpt from my book, Safest Place in Iraq, which is available from any bookseller or from this website.

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Ministry Follows Friendship

In 1986, Blue Diamond Growers in California initiated an ad campaign asking shoppers to buy a can of almonds each week. This was based on the fact that one almond tree produces fifty-two cans of almonds per year, and there are exactly fifty-two weeks in a year. Their slogan? “A can a week, that’s all we ask.” You can still find the old commercials on YouTube.

When I told my wife during a phone call that someone at Camp Echo was coming to faith in Christ every week, she recalled the TV commercial from years earlier and said, “A soul a week, that’s all we ask.” Being from California, I understood the allusion right away.

Linda had been praying that every week, someone would come to faith in Christ, and it was happening: someone at church on Sunday, a visitor to my office during the week, or a soldier in a unit training area. She prayed for the people I was ministering to, and God answered her prayers: a soul a week.

When I was a rookie chaplain, my supervisor showed up one day to mentor me. “Here’s my philosophy of serving as a military chaplain: ministry follows friendship. If you love your soldiers and spend time with them and they know you like them, then they’ll come to you when they want to talk about their spiritual need. Just love them, spend time with them, and trust the Holy Spirit to draw them. When they are ready to talk about the Lord, they’ll know who to go to.”

That sounded pretty good to me, so I adopted his philosophy of chaplain ministry. It was an effective approach throughout my military career, and it was true in Iraq.

Laughin’ and Prayin’

One Tuesday morning a big ol’ boy stepped into my office, and entered the Kingdom of God. He walked in unannounced. “Mind if I drop my body armor, chaplain?” It was already hitting the floor before I had a chance to reply.

“Not at all. Be my guest. Where are you from?”

“I’m from Brevard, North Carolina.”

“Brevard? I’ve been to Brevard.”

“Pity you,” he laughed loud at his own joke. “What were you doin’ in my town?”

“A friend of mine lives there. I was passing through and stopped to visit for a couple hours. Now, what are you doin’ in my office?”

“I grew up in church, but never got serious ‘bout Jesus or nuthin.’ Just out o’ boot camp an’ AIT, an’ they send me here. So, I figure if I’m gonna die right here in the desert at the ripe ol’ age of 19, might as well get saved, confess my sins, whole nine yards, make things right, ya know.”

I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun praying with someone as I did with him that day. Six feet four, a muscular 225-pounder with short brown hair and medium brown eyes. He walked loud, talked loud, and lived loud. I imagine he even sinned loud.

“Hey! I even know what to pray,” he grinned.

“OK, you go first, then I’ll pray.”

“Gotcha!”

He was right; he knew what to do, and he prayed a great prayer. I don’t recall ever hearing someone telling God jokes during a confessional prayer, but he did. We both started laughing. He kept on praying right through our laughter.

“Hey! I bet even the Lord has a sense of humor. Not a problem laughin’ during prayer, is it, Chaplain?”

“Not a problem. I’m sure God is laughing too. Along with all his angels up there!”

“Ha!” Then he started naming his sins from childhood, high school, basic training, all the way up to a couple days ago. Sins with girls, booze, cigarettes, lyin’, stealin’, cheatin’ in school, missin’ church. Then he concluded with, “An’ I ain’t sinned the past coupla days, Lord, so I guess that brings me up to date. Come into my heart. Amen!” Just like that, he was done.

When he finished praying, I was laughing so hard, I don’t think I could have prayed yet, so I suggested that we talk for a while and get acquainted before I take my turn.

A few days before this encounter, he was wearing his body armor while working, and injured his spine. It looked like the Army was getting ready to send him back to Brevard because he was in non-stop pain.

“So, I guess, I’m going home unless Jesus heals me.”

“Well, let’s pray about that too,” I suggested.

“Gotcha! Your turn to pray.”

Besides talking to the Lord about the young man’s back injury, my prayer was that his commitment to Christ would be genuine and lifelong, regardless of whether he stayed in the Army or went home, whether the Lord healed his back or not.

When I finished praying, my new friend looked at me, grinned and said, “Shoot, when I get home an’ show up at church, my pastor’s gonna have a heart attack. I don’t think he ever thought I was gonna get saved. Boy will he be surprised.”

He looked at his watch. “Whoa! Gotta get back to work. Hey! By the way. Can I get a Bible? When’s church?”

I handed him a Bible. “Church is at ten hundred Sunday, nineteen hundred Tuesday, and any time, any day you manage to find me.”

“Great. I’ll be your usher and deacon. You can count on it.” He hefted his body armor and Kevlar, grimaced with pain, and left just as loudly as he came. Just like that, he was gone.

The young man started coming to church. As promised, he got there early to help set up chairs and serve as usher, greeter, deacon, bulletin-passer-outer, altar worker, whatever I asked him to do. He was a tremendous addition to the ministry team. He stayed afterwards to help clean up. Then went to the DFAC with a group of us for lunch. It took about a month for him to process out and return to North Carolina. I wish I could have seen the look on his pastor’s face when he walked in the door of that Baptist church in Brevard.

This is an excerpt from the book Safest Place in Iraq. Available from this website, Amazon, or any book store.

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Qualifications for Military Chaplaincy

As the officer in charge of Army chaplain recruiting at Fort Knox, KY, I met a lot of pastors, priests, rabbis, imams, evangelists, theology students, and seminary professors who inquired about becoming a chaplain. Most of them were good people, effective in service and ministry in their congregations and organizations. Many of them applied and were accepted. Some of them, however, didn’t meet all the criteria. Therefore, it’s important to understand what is required.

A phone call came from the pastor of a large church on the West Coast, who felt the Lord was calling him to become a military chaplain. He wanted to know how long it would take to get in, so he could notify his church board. After getting acquainted a bit, I started asking him about his qualifications. He had more than eight years full-time ministry experience, was in pretty good physical shape, with no criminal history or use of drugs. It was looking like he might be a great applicant for the military chaplaincy . . . until he was asked about his education.

“What do you mean I have to have a Master of Divinity? I have a B.A. in Theology & Ministry from a great university, and I got an A in every single class, and the Lord is calling me to become a chaplain NOW. I don’t want to go back to school.”

“Well, brother, sounds like you’re a great pastor, but you’re just not qualified without an M.Div. If the Lord is calling you, then you need to obey, and the first step is to get into seminary and complete the degree.”

His anger took over from there, and the rest of the call wasn’t very pleasant. Apparently, he had gotten into some sort of trouble, and needed to leave his church immediately. Going into the military would have been a perfect “out.”

A few weeks later, I got a call came from another pastor who felt called to the chaplaincy. When she was told there was an age limit, she asked, “But I heard I could get an age waiver. Can’t I get an exception from the Chief of Chaplains since I’m a bit over the cut-off?”

“Well, ma’am, the current guidelines from the Office of the Chief of Chaplains says he’ll consider age waivers up to forty-six years of age if you have prior military experience, but you’re already fifty with no previous time in service, and though you seem like a fantastic minister of the gospel, there’s no way you can begin a military career at age fifty.”

“Oh, I see.”

There are seven qualifications for every applicant who desires to become a military chaplain: Education, Citizenship, Ministry Experience, Security/Background Check, Medical Exam, Ordination, and Physical Fitness. Every one of these is also a potential disqualifier, which means as far as the military is concerned, it doesn’t matter how good a preacher or counselor you are, if you don’t have all seven qualifications, you’re not going to be a chaplain in the military.

The three military Chiefs of Chaplains have the authority to grant waivers or exceptions for faith groups that have a shortage of chaplains, but those faith groups tend to be Jewish, Roman Catholic, and Muslim. The rest of us need to make sure we understand and match up in all seven ways.

If you’ve done what it takes to fulfill all the qualifications, if you are a good minister who likes people, and if you’re sure this is the direction you’re called to go, chances are, you’re going to fit in really well, make some great friendships, and have a dynamic and effective ministry career.

For a complete understanding of what it’s like to be a chaplain in the Army, Air Force, or the Navy, take a look at the book Military Ministry: Chaplains in the Twenty-First Century. Click on the Books tab above to read more about it.

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Unity in Diversity

There hadn’t been a chaplain at Camp Echo during the three years before I arrived, but now that people were being wounded and some were dying, our leaders decided to send a chaplain. My job was to build a religious program from scratch, take care of the spiritual needs of the people, and provide a “ministry of presence.” To do that, I needed a ministry team. I already had four congregations of prayer partners back in the States. Now I needed “boots on the ground” partners.

My first day at the FOB, somebody told me there was a civilian worker on post who was a pastor before the war. A Baptist preacher from North Carolina, James had been leading a Bible study every Sunday morning for the past year. In essence, he had been the only pastoral presence for the people at Camp Echo.

James worked the night shift, so on Friday night, the day after I arrived, I went looking for him and found him in his office around eleven p.m. A forty-two-year-old African American, he was a trim five-foot-nine with a ready smile, slight mustache, and graying goatee. He had a gold front tooth, which sometimes gleamed and sometimes was dark, depending on the lighting.

When I walked into his office, he was sitting at his desk. In front of him were two computers, a stack of paperback Bibles, water bottle, calculator, flashlight, thesaurus, telephone, and a fly swatter: things he considered essential. He wore a blue hoodie. I never saw him without that on, no matter how hot it was. He was indeed an ordained Baptist minister, and had heard that a “real chaplain” was coming.

When he saw that I was the new chaplain, he looked at me and grinned, flashing that gold tooth, but he was serious. The first words I heard him say were, “You gonna fire me since you’re a real chaplain an’ I’m not?”

I’ve read a lot of books and articles on various leadership styles and principles, and could easily make a case for asking James to step away from his previous role in the chapel program. It’s a common practice, for example, to bring in an entirely different team when a new leader arrives. Another issue is that a lot of pastors and chaplains want to do all the ministry: preaching, teaching the Bible study, praying for people, and visiting the sick.

But I know how important it is for all God’s people to be involved in ministry. Plus, I had a good feeling about the man, and I wanted to honor him for his faithfulness over the past year of leading the Bible study and praying for people.

So I said, “Pastor James, I have no intention of firing you. You were here ministering when there was no chaplain. Chances are, you might be here after I’m gone. How would you feel about us working together as co-pastors?”

When I called him Pastor James, his eyes opened big and he got excited. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. There’s plenty to do. You already know everybody on post. You’ve been doing the job of pastor when nobody else was here. Perhaps you could show me around and introduce me to people in the various offices and sections.”

“I can do that,” James offered.

 “And if the war continues, there might be times I have to be at the clinic or visiting another FOB when it’s time for church. I think it’s better if we worked as a team. What do you say? I could use your help.”

“I like that plan,” he said.

When I held out my hand to shake his, he threw his arms around me for a long hug, instead. “What about this Sunday morning?” he asked.

“Why don’t you plan and lead the worship service, and then introduce me as the new chaplain, and I’ll preach,” I suggested. “At the end of the worship service, we’ll serve communion side by side.”

“That’ll work.”

“Then we’ll take it week by week,” I continued. “There’s a lot to do, and we can accomplish more if we work together.”

“Gotta deal.” He showed off that gold tooth again.

The differences between us were obvious: different denominations, different personalities, different spiritual gifts, different skin color, and more. But the fact that we worked together, supported one another, and honored each other had an immediate impact on the people at Camp Echo. Just as important, it seemed the Lord was pleased with the way we handled things, and he blessed our efforts from day one.

The decision to have Pastor James stay involved in the chapel program was a winner. There was a continuity that we were able to build on, and a unity that paved the way for the presence of God and the power of God to be experienced in ways we couldn’t have imagined.

This is an excerpt from the book Safest Place in Iraq. The book won first place gold at the Florida Writers Association’s Royal Palm Literary Awards as well as the first place Peach Award at the North Georgia Christian Writers Conference.

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Danger, Dust, and Death

When they told me where I was going, they said it was the Safest Place in Iraq, but by the time I got there, things had changed. On a Tuesday night, the dining facility was crowded, bustling, with hardly an empty chair, when mortars landed on the building.

People were stunned, walking around like zombies. Most avoided eating in the DFAC, even after it was repaired and they started serving meals again. From that moment, incoming mortars and rockets became part of the routine that was soon to be my daily life.

Men from Diwaniyah would drive to a vacant field on the edge of town, bringing their rockets and mortars to fire at us. They did this in the morning on their way to work. Sometimes it was mid-day during a lunch break, and other times in the evening on their way home from work. Occasionally it was in the middle of the night. Some of the people shooting at us were teens or even younger. Often, they would launch their missiles-of-death just before, or right after their prayers.

I volunteered to go. My philosophy as a chaplain was that I wanted to be wherever soldiers had to go, and if they were at war, I wanted to be there with them. Not because I enjoy fighting. We all know that a chaplain is a non-combatant. I wasn’t there to fight.

I was there to encourage, counsel, and pray; provide worship opportunities, friendship, and guidance; nurture the living, care for the wounded, and honor the dead; and guarantee the constitutional freedom of worship to men and women of all faiths, and the same freedom to men and women of no faith. Camp Echo was my home, my parish, my fiery furnace.

I knew from the start that I could be wounded or killed. It was a weird feeling, and I came to accept it. How or when, I had no idea. But every time there was another explosion, I wondered if this was the day.

My wife also knew I might not make it home alive. Or if I did return, I might be a broken man–crippled, blind, psychologically damaged, or all of the above. With that possibility in mind, she told me before I left home, “I don’t want to find out after you get back or after you’re dead that you were in danger. I want to know right away.”

The first time I mentioned during a phone call some of the dangerous things that were happening, she said, “I already know. I saw it on TV and in the newspaper. They’re mentioning Diwaniyah and Camp Echo by name.” She scanned and sent me an LA Times article. I took it to our staff meeting the next morning, and discovered that many on our leadership team didn’t know what was going on outside the wire.

Danger, dust, and death formed the context for the job I was sent to do. Operating from the philosophy that “ministry follows friendship,” I built relationships among the men and women at Camp Echo: military, civilian, American, and Coalition. This allowed me to be there when they were at their best and when they were at their worst, in their strongest moments and in their weakest.

In the heat of the battle and the heat of the desert, hours turn into days, which transition to nights, and add up to weeks and then months. The conditions wear you down, leaving an imprint on your mind and your soul: images that will be seen in dreams for months or years, sounds that reverberate long after you’re home, people you befriended and cared about and stared at death with, but will probably never hear from again. For many of us, it’s only memory now. But for others, the war continues … on the inside.

An excerpt from the book, Safest Place in Iraq, published by Morgan James Faith.

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Captain Interrogative

Several years ago, when I was a brand new Active Duty Army Chaplain, I got a call from an Army chaplain recruiter. A pastor of a Baptist church in Southern California had called to ask about becoming a chaplain. Although the pastor was in a wonderful church and was doing a great job as their pastor, he felt that the Lord might be leading him to redirect his pastoral and discipleship efforts to Soldiers, instead of among civilians.

I asked the recruiter why he was telling me about the pastor, and he said, “The guy’s wearing me out with his questions. He literally calls every day of the week with another couple of questions. And after I answer the question, he has ten more. I’m not exaggerating here!”

I agreed to take on the challenge of staying in touch with the pastor, and I called him. He admitted that he always has lots of questions, even to the point that while he was in seminary, classmates referred to him as Captain Interrogative.

“Here’s the deal I’d like to make with you,” I said.

“Deal?”

“Yes, deal. I’m willing to answer every question you come up with, on two conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“Yes, conditions.”

“OK, what are they?”

“First, you may call me or email me up to three times a week, Monday through Friday during the workday. Second, you will keep a record of every question you ask and every answer I provide.”

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“You have a right to know everything you possibly can know before making the decision to transition from your church ministry to the military. Since you and your wife need to pray over this potential move together, you need to keep a notebook that you can both review from time to time. And after you have the answers to all your questions, you’ll have a large notebook full of information about ministry in the military, and who knows, maybe you’ll be able to help someone else someday.”

The guy agreed, and boy did he have a ton of questions. In the process of Q&A, he and I became good friends. My wife and I even visited his church to see him in action and meet his wife. After about six months, he had a fat notebook filled with everything he needed to know about military chaplain ministry. He made the decision to apply and was selected.

It’s important to keep in mind that ministry in the military is in many ways the same as ministry in a local congregation. Men and women in the uniformed services have the same needs as those who are schoolteachers, plumbers, mechanics, or salespersons. The context is different and there are some issues particular to the military, as there are in any field. But Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Coast Guardsmen, and Marines need someone to teach them the Bible, provide pastoral counseling, visit them when they’re sick, model effective relationship styles, and set an example for how to live for Jesus, just like anyone in any town in America.

The above is an excerpt from the book titled Military Ministry: Chaplains in the Twenty-First Century, written by Paul Linzey and Keith Travis, published by Wipf & Stock.

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Gazing at the Destruction of Pearl Harbor

It was more than half a century ago that I stood on the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Yorktown and gazed in awe at the recent destruction of Pearl Harbor. My sailor friends and I were very young then, but a few months later, the Battles of the Coral Sea and Midway would make men of us quickly.

Since those decisive days, many fine accounts have been written about those key battles but generally in a secular context for the historian’s interest. They have enhanced our knowledge of the war in the Pacific and particularly of those great battles, and we are indebted to them, but there was another side to the story that never has been told.

During that early period of World War Il, I was in the U.S. Navy serving as an enlisted musician on the aircraft carrier Yorktown, which was a major player in the Battles of the Coral Sea and Midway. From my experience in the ship, I observed the supernatural intervention of God that played a vital role among both officers and enlisted men. I wish to bring some of that story into focus for the families and friends of the Christian religious community whose loved ones served so heroically in those critical events of the war.

I am writing for all the military personnel who served in those actions and particularly for the survivors of the Yorktown and their families and friends. The Yorktown (CV-5) Club, which I currently serve as chaplain, meets annually to relive the events and to keep alive the spirit for which we served. I am grateful to the club members for the camaraderie and spirit of fellowship that have endured through the years and are ignited each year anew as we meet together.

I am writing for those many Christians who may not pursue secular history as such but would appreciate reading history that takes into account God’s intervening force in the lives and events of the people involved. Many prayed for their men and women during those dark hours of World War Il and believed that God heard and answered their prayers, and those of us who benefited from their intercessory prayer continue as witnesses to God’s grace.

Divine providence is as relevant today as it was in Bible times. Events do not “just happen.” The Battles of the Coral Sea and Midway are cases in point, for we did not win those battles by our wits alone. The odds were stacked against us at Midway, but in answer to the prayers going on back home in our great nation, the enemy forces made crucial mistakes at Midway. Those errors cost them the loss of ships and men, which resulted in their defeat and the turning of the tide in the war.

I am writing to give testimony to God’s presence in the most difficult of times and to witness to the saving grace of Jesus Christ. My hope is that this testimony might be an encouragement to others who find themselves in uneven circumstances. Also, I wish to encourage others to be faithful to God and to one another in any and all eventualities, good or bad.

I am writing for my children who have not known what their father went through during the war. One of my daughters wept as she read the account of the sinking of the Yorktown and remarked that her brothers and sisters did not know these things.

Finally, I write to remind myself of God’s divine favor and providence lest I forget the time when I felt so alone and helpless. Lest I forget. Lest I forget.

This is an excerpt from the preface of my dad’s book, Dead in the Water. It is available on Amazon and on this website. Captain Stanford E. Linzey was a sailor on the USS Yorktown during WWII. After the war, he served as a pastor for a decade, and then returned to the Navy as a chaplain. The image below was provided by Pixabay.com.

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