Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line.
Labeled as freaks loose on the streets of the city.
Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line.
Take a look at my face. See what it’s doing to me.

Soldiers who fought in Vietnam faced terror and bloodshed on a daily basis. Many Americans opposed the war, just as many people have opposed the War in Iraq, and virtually every other war that has ever been fought. No one hopes for another war to break out.

But when it does, soldiers are called to fight it. In the past, many of our soldiers were drafted into service, unlike the volunteers who serve in today’s armed forces.

When soldiers returned from Vietnam, they were stunned by the hateful reception they received from many American citizens. These young men had fought to protect their country, having disciplined themselves to follow orders from their superiors. But instead of thanking them for their service or congratulating them for their achievements, many people welcomed veterans home by hurling rotten fruit at them or calling them “baby killers”. It didn’t occur to the protesters that these soldiers were only “babies” themselves – young men in their mid-20’s, barely starting their adult lives. Or that Vietnamese soldiers had also been working hard to kill them.

I am not making any attempt to explain, understand or justify war. One war might seem just, while another seems wholly unnecessary, depending on what we hear about its causes. But ultimately, wars are fought, and young men and women are commissioned to fight them.

Should we despise them for this? Do we despise police officers or firefighters, who put their lives on the line to protect others? Why is it so easy to single out a soldier, and accuse them of being “baby killers”, rather than protectors? Is it because they are sent out to kill other soldiers, and trained to do it efficiently? Is that why we readily dismiss these soldiers as if they were heartless and bloodless, rather than seeing them as people?

 

Taught me how to shoot to kill
A specialist with a deadly skill
A skill I needed to have to be a survivor.
It’s over now, or so they say.
Well, sometimes, it don’t turn out that way
‘cause you’re never the same when you’ve been under fire.
 

“Walking on a Thin Line” was a song about Vietnam veterans and the difficulties they faced. When performing it, Huey Lewis and the News often dedicated it to the soldiers who had served in that controversial war. A small way of saying “thank you”, to people who had suffered violence, trauma and loneliness, only to return home and receive scorn and false accusations.

Last year, my wife and I were in a restaurant when she noticed a small table of people, two of whom wore military uniforms. After we finished lunch, we stopped at their table. Nicki told them she just wanted to say “thank you” for their service of protecting our country, since she knew they might not often hear words of gratitude. The soldiers appreciated it, and we went on our way. A simple thing to do, but how often is it done?

 

Don’t you know me? I’m the boy next door.
The one you find so easy to ignore.
Is that what I was fighting for?

Consider the sacrifices being made by soldiers throughout the world, enduring long periods away from family, while staying prepared to respond to emergencies at a moment’s notice. At the same time, consider the sacrifices being made by other “soldiers” even closer to home: police officers, paramedics, social workers, firefighters, missionaries, and many others. People who have sacrificed a comfortable life in order to live lives of service to others. To guide, heal and protect.

The next time you see one of these soldiers, remember that they have dedicated themselves to a demanding life, in order to serve you. And maybe instead of scorn or annoyance, we can find a sense of appreciation and respect.

 

Find more reviews of “Huey Lewis and the News – Sports” album at amazon.com!

 

Sometimes our efforts to help others aren’t all that helpful. Our eagerness to lend a hand can fall short when we fail to consider the real needs of the person we’re trying to help.

Nicki and I have tried to help our three-year old daughter, Abby, grasp this. Abby is in such a rush to help that she doesn’t always wait for instructions on how to do it. She wants to put our dishes away before we have finished eating. Or she tries to go get us some “surprise” – usually a toy from her room – to cheer us up, instead of doing what we told her to do. We have had to explain to her more than once, “It’s not helping if you’re not listening to how someone wants you to help.”

Instead of assuming what someone else might need, we need to be sensitive enough to consider what will actually help them. The Bible says, “If you bless your neighbor loudly in the morning, it will be taken as a curse.” Actor/Comedian Ricky Gervais demonstrates this principle in the funniest Sesame Street sketch I’ve ever seen.

Thanks to my wife, Nicki, for finding this!

Click the picture link and enjoy!

 

Once again, David heard a faint echo of what Christie had said: Carlos Edwards is not what he seems. He’s playing you. But now the man’s intense seriousness, and the gravity of his words, had taken David’s curiosity to a fever pitch. “You can trust me to keep your confidence,” David repeated.

Edwards leaned closer across the table and said, “A group already in existence is planning to remove Guzman from power. These are Venezuelan people, important people, with money and influence, who believe the only way to bring democracy and prosperity back to our country is to change the system. They do not believe Guzman will ever step down or declare fair elections without intense pressure. We intend to provide that pressure.”

David felt his heart beating faster. Could it be that this was actually going to happen? “You’re serious?”

“Very.” He paused and studied David’s face.

“Do you wish me to stop speaking of this?”

David shook his head. “No. I’m intrigued. Please tell me more.”

“If you would like. But I warn you that the conversation may become more uncomfortable for you.”

David cocked his head. “More uncomfortable? And why is that?”

“Because there may be something you can do to help us.”

 

 

 

 

 

Believing this to be the solution he’s been praying for, David agrees to help. But in his rush to solve the country’s problems, David forgets what matters most. His integrity. His conscience. His marriage. Even his ongoing work at the Hope Village mission.

As he wonders whether he made the right choice, David encounters Cecil, the founder of their mission, in the following excerpt:

(cont.) 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

David was in no mood for a chat, his mind still vibrating with a combination of excitement and fear. But this was Cecil.

On a grassy knoll nearby, a bench looked out over the garden, past the orchard, and up into the mountains. David often saw Cecil sitting here, by himself, with his Bible. Many times, the two of them had talked here. This time, Cecil seemed in no hurry after they sat; he gazed out at the view and sighed contentedly. “Tell me what’s bothering you, David,” Cecil said at last. “I bet it’s more than yesterday’s brouhaha, traumatic as that was. Whenever you’re ready.”

David looked at the ground, surprised at how much he wanted to do just that – to blurt out to this good and trustworthy man everything that had happened at lunch. But I can’t, he thought. I’ve already given Carlos my word to tell no one. Not Christie. Not Cecil. And there was another reason he would keep quiet. He already knew what Cecil’s response would be.

After a few moments of silence, Cecil said, “I ever tell you what it was like when I first came here?”

David shook his head – not because he hadn’t heard parts of this story before. He had, many times. But he sensed that Cecil was working toward some point, and wanted to give him the freedom to approach it in his own way.

“Course, Hope village wasn’t here yet. We bought the land with a small donation from a church, combined with our personal savings account – which wasn’t much, believe me. We bought a tent. Cooked our meals outside on a camp stove.”

He chuckled, pointing. “I dug an outhouse right up there, not far from where the orphanage sits now. It was fun at first. We pretended we were camping. Other than that, we had no idea what we were supposed to do. We had no grand vision. But eventually three orphan kids came to sleep in the tent with us. That was when I realized we needed to start an orphanage.

“So I sent letters home to churches and friends, pleading for money. I asked the city fathers here in Caracas for help. I approached businesses for donations. Didn’t help that I wasn’t Catholic, in a country where 90 percent are. I felt some of the same stress you’re feeling now. We were moving too slow – way too slow. Nothing worked. And I got sick of living in a tent.

“Felt sorry for myself at first. Then angry. Angry at the government and churches that ignored my please for help, even angry at God for bringing Martha and me out here. I was ready to give up.”

Cecil picked up a twig and rolled it between his fingers. “This went on for two and a half years. Seemed like an eternity. By then, Martha was worried about my health. I was still a young man, but my blood pressure went up and I was having headaches all the time.

“One day, by God’s grace, I walked past Our Lady Catholic Church. Father Amada was out in the churchyard. He waved. I hadn’t met him, so I decided to introduce myself. Next thing you know, he invited me in for coffee and we’d have a chat. Sometimes for a couple hours. Then one day we prayed together. It was like a revelation to me, David. I discovered a brother in Christ in the last place I expected to find one. We never spoke much about theology. We just talked about Jesus, and about the children in poverty we both felt called to love.

“I never thought of it as a way to get something. I just enjoyed the fellowship. But believe it or not, our first pile of concrete blocks and metal roofing was donated by the members of Our Lady! Several of their members came – Father Amada twisted some arms, I’d bet – to help us build that first wing of the orphanage. Right there where the walls and floor are a bit crooked.”

David let Cecil talk, wondering where he was headed.

“That’s when I had what you might call an epiphany. I realized that I needed to do the Lord’s work in the Lord’s way … that all my flailing, anger, and manipulation were not of God, but of me.”

Elbows on his knees, Cecil looked down at the grass. “God spoke to me then about my true calling. Not in an audible voice- just that silent little whisper you get in your mind and heart that tells you God’s on the line. He said, ‘Cecil, just love the little ones I give to you and Martha, and let Me take care of the rest.’”

He looked at David. “Love sees the need, David – not the cause.”

David sat silent for a few moments, resisting the urge to argue with this man he admired so much, but finally the tension was too great. Love sees the need, not the cause – that’s a bumper-sticker slogan, not theology. He shook his head. “Cecil, no matter how much the local Catholics and short-term missionaries from the U.S. helped build this place, it wouldn’t have happened without your blood, sweat, and tears. Someone had a vision and made it happen, and that person was you – you and Martha. You didn’t sit around waiting for a miracle. You acted.

“I see your point, and I respect your moment of revelation. But if helping kids is the bottom line, and I think it is, I also think we could save hundreds more than we are. I mean, how can we just dismiss all the little Ricardos out there on the street right now?”

“I don’t,” Cecil said. “But think: There are kids dying on the streets of Rio de Janeiro, Manila, Hong Kong. There are starving, homeless kids in Calcutta and Bogotá. How will you save them? Is it just that these kids are five miles away and some of the others, five thousand? Does God love the kids more here than He does the ones in Calcutta because we’re here, you and me? We can’t save the whole world. We just have to be obedient to do today what God gives us to do today. I don’t want to get out ahead of God.”

David picked up a small rock and tossed it toward the garden. “Frankly, I’m more worried about getting too far behind God.”

Cecil pulled off his hat and ran his hand through his sparse hair. “There are children in need worldwide. I don’t have an answer to that. But there are two things I want you to think about. First one is, that story I just told you took place long before Armando Guzman came to power. I worried about the needs of homeless kids in Caracas – and there was plenty to worry about – when Guzman was just a private in the army wondering when he’d get his next leave to see his girlfriend. So don’t get the idea Guzman invented all this. And second, life has taught me that the best we can do is to help each other muddle through the hurts of this life, one person at a time. Imagine what could happen if every Christian in the world loved and cared for just one more child.” A slight smile creased his face. “That may not sound earth-changing. But that’s how Martha and I have found a piece of heaven right here with these children.”

“I wish I saw more heaven, Cecil. What I see out on the streets and in the barrios seems more like hell.” David stood. “What you say sounds like wisdom, Cecil. And maybe it is. Still, while the work never changes, sometimes the methods do. Call it my impetuous youth if you want, but I want the satisfaction of doing something significant, and frankly I’m just not content to sit back and assume that the way things are is the way they have to remain.”

Cecil stood and put his hand on David’s shoulder. “Be careful.” He took a few shuffling steps down the path toward the clinic, then stopped and turned back. “I miss him, you know,” he said. “Father Amada. He died a few years before you came – lived to be over ninety. Tough old cob.” Cecil laughed. “He could surprise you. He surely could. I wonder …” His eyes twinkled. “Which one of us would he have agreed with today?”

 

Many people want to help. Just don’t get in such a rush to meet a huge need that you lose part of yourself in the process.

The part that’s already helping others find hope.

 

Find more reviews of The Missionary at amazon.com!

 

In the middle of February, I received a word from God. Just a single word that popped into my head: anvil.

I had no idea what it meant. I knew what an anvil was, and I thought I recalled its purpose. But I had really only seen an anvil used in old Road Runner cartoons, as a really heavy weight that Wile E. Coyote attempted to drop on his prey. (Was that a brilliant plan for hunting birds in the desert or what?)

Then in March, I saw “Rambo”, a shocking and horrific film about violence against the people of Burma, and a group of Christian missionaries who try to help them, only to be captured and rescued by the hero, John Rambo (Sylvester Stallone).

Tortured by the violence he has committed in the past, Rambo feels ashamed of his life. He finds no value in anything he has done. He was trained as a killer for the Green Berets in the Vietnam War, only to be discarded by the American people he tried to protect. Decades later, he is in hiding, having completely separated himself from society. A small group of Christian missionaries persuade him to guide them into war-torn Burma to bring aid, though he feels it will be a wasted effort.

In the process of transporting them, Rambo kills a group of attacking pirates. The missionaries’ leader, Michael (Paul Schulze) is appalled at Rambo’s murderous solution, and plans to report him. But another missionary, Sarah (Julie Benz), hands Rambo her cross necklace, grateful for his efforts to help.

Having delivered the missionaries as promised – and having burned the evidence of his murder of the pirates – Rambo retreats once more into isolation at his quiet home along the river. Contemplating the missionaries’ desire to help – even Sarah’s desire to befriend and help him find peace – Rambo continues to question his purpose is in life, finding no answers.

At this critical point of the film, I was stunned to see Rambo banging away at a hot piece of metal … which is resting on an anvil. And I saw what God was telling me, and others, through the film’s image.

The anvil represents everything that happens to us in our lives. God is building something out of us, and – like Rambo’s vague project in the movie – we have no idea exactly what God is trying to make. But the shape of what we will become depends on the anvil we rest on.

When Rambo discovers that the missionaries have been captured by Burmese soldiers, he joins a group of mercenaries as they march in for a rescue. When a few of the warriors have second thoughts, Rambo tells them, “There isn’t one of us that doesn’t want to be someplace else. But this is what we do. Who we are. Live for nothing, or die for something. Your call.”

Rambo finally discovered that he does have a purpose, though it is violent. He’s certainly no missionary, but the combat skills he has learned and the horrible experiences he has faced have prepared him for rescue missions like this one: to save lives in a way that no one else can. To press in when he, and others, would rather turn back.

No matter what happens in our lives, and what decisions we have made in the past – broken promises, corrupt actions, abusive childhoods, violent relationships – God can use all of it to shape us into what He wants us to become. All we have to do is start, at this moment, to trust Him to do it. It doesn’t matter how old we are, or how many misfortunes we have experienced or caused. The moment we hand our lives over to Christ, He will mold us into something brand new. And every wrong thing that happened in our past will suddenly become transformed into something positive. Not that the horrors and crimes of the past become good. But God will combine those negative aspects of our past to shape our present and future character. The Bible says, “And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who know Him and are called according to His purpose.” – Romans 8:28.

So we don’t need to be ashamed or beaten down by our past, no matter how terrible it was. The successes, failures, and problems of our lives are merely an anvil on which we are placed, so that God can make us into something wonderful, to make us a great blessing to others and to Him. Knowing the pain of abuse can make you into someone who helps abused victims find healing. Escaping a violent past can turn you into someone who can promote peace in the midst of terrible conflicts. No matter what you have done or what has been done to you, God will use it to make you into something new, the moment you agree to let Him do it.

Don’t let your past rob you of your future. God has more in store for those who trust Him.

Let God finish His design in you.

 

For another perspective on “Rambo”, see April’s Monthly Feature.

 

Find more reviews of “Rambo” at amazon.com!