“Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” Matthew 10:39
I have hesitated writing about, or even mentioning my military experiences for several reasons. You should know I have a rather immense level of pride when it comes to my Marine Corps career. From day one the Marine Corps seeks to instill pride and arrogance into their members. I’m proud of the blessing and experiences God gave me these past 6 years. However, keeping the pride and confidence that I gained but filtering out the arrogance is a tricky, slow process, and not speaking or writing about it seems to help. (Or does it? I debate that. With myself.) Since moving to Minneapolis I have experienced great success at kicking the identifier that the Corps has been for me. Nobody has yet to introduce me as, “This is Jonathan. He’s a Marine.” I’ve been able to remove the moniker so well, though, that I’ve begun to miss it. I miss recalling and talking about it, anyway. Part of the longing feeling is also related to my inexplicable year-long vacation from training, receiving my final promotion, and entering the final month of my six-year contract.
It’s strange not to speak about it because of the HUGE impact it has had on my life. I still think about it a lot, especially as I reflect in my final weeks. So, to not speak about it is a challenge. Well, I’m writing about it.
I also waited to write because I try to keep this pretty ambiguous and aloof, but I’m not divulging any great military secrets here. Sorry. A third reason I’ve not written is because I prefer to speak about it. (To whom it may concern, if you ask me a question about the military, I probably will not dive under a table, weeping uncontrollably. Probably.) God has been teaching me some very valuable lessons from my experiences, though, so I thought it would be good to formulate my thoughts a little better. Umm… yeah. Down to business. (If you’ve read this far, I am impressed by your patience.)
I was 20 years old when I went to Iraq for the first time. I don’t remember my 21st birthday, which is what I generally preferred for birthdays and holidays away from family. This deployment was in no way voluntary for me, but I was still excited to go into combat and apply what I had exhaustively trained for. I was a rifleman in the infantry. The tip of the spear. The grunt. The boots on the deck. “The guys busting down doors.” It’s exactly where I wanted to be, for some very-difficult-to-explain reason.
I was a Christian at the time, but it would have been a stretch to call me a follower of Christ. In my mind, there is a difference. Revelation 3:15-16 However, I knew my salvation was secure, and I could not be confident of the salvation of any other Marine in my 30-man platoon. With that knowledge, it was my sincere prayer (first prayed at my favorite prayer spot on planet earth) that if anyone died in my platoon, it would be me. With knowledge of this prayer in my heart, I was prepared for it to be answered. I had a nice little letter written to my family tucked into a red devotional book, and just this week I came across what I wanted for my funeral in an old notebook. I had some really good hymns picked out.
The deployment itself was not overly intense, but it was also far from boring. There was enough danger present that each new day with breath in my lungs was a blessing. My journal from that time accounts well the growing frustrations during the span of my time overseas. Without sharing too much, there were many things occuring that I was finding to be challenging to justify. Needless to say, I left Iraq eagerly, with no plans or desires to ever return.
By the way, God did answer my prayer. My platoon was the only platoon in my company to return home without a Marine being killed. You can say praise God right about now.
The return home was all I imagined and more (and I thought about it every day) My family was there, Nick was there, I cried in a tv interview, Marines made fun of me, it was great. Nick and I found a nice apartment together, God providentially closed the doors of other colleges, funneling me to Kuyper and Cornerstone, He brought influential friends into my life, and He blessed me with the joys of an active, growing relationship with Him.
A few months after my return home I caught wind of a voluntary deployment and something very surprising happened: I wanted to go. After prayer, counsel, and weighing the pro’s and con’s, I decided not to take this opportunity, but the inexplicable desire to return remained for months and years until I finally found another opportunity to go in 2009.
But hold on, why did I want to go back? Because God, in his unsurpassing wisdom, began a good work in me before I even cared about my relationship with Him. I wanted to go on another deployment because of what a combat zone has to offer: risk, a surrender of safety, sacrifice, suffering, fear. As a result of those traits, though, two more things are offered: an aliveness and a sense of meaning and fulfillment in life like you would not believe.
…I don’t remember if this was something I said or something I read, but I don’t have to cite in this story, which is something I dread. (yeah.. sorry.)“You never feel more alive than when you are risking your life for something.” I was living and fighting and planning on dying for something I cared about more than my own life. (Not America, but for Chad, Roy, Tom, and the other Marines on my right and left) God, through my experience in my first deployment, gave me a small taste of the joys of intense sacrifice. So if the joy of service can be that meaningful when serving an earthly kingdom in a conflict that I have no for-the-record comments on, how much more so will I find my life when I lose it for HIS Kingdom?!?
I try to imagine where I would be right now if God had not sent me on the Marine Corps adventure. I have no idea what I would be doing but I would be like the walking dead. Worthless and ineffective. (not that I don't fall to that status on a regular basis anyway) It's irrelevant to dwell on that anymore, because it's not what God did. I know that not everyone needs to go to a combat zone to understand the value of a surrendered life. I am just a bit more stubborn, and this was the way God chose to draw me into desiring to serve Him with my life.
We have the testimony of others, too. There was a group of Korean missionaries who were tortured and some killed several years ago in Afghanistan. Later, back in Korea, one of the Missionaries who lived was speaking with another and said (paraphrasing, here), “Don’t you ever miss it? It was terrifying, but wasn’t there a supernatural peace and intimacy with God as He saw us through that.” I can relate with that completely. Because of all of the trying, sometimes terrifying moments, I was very alive, and I missed it. That's why Marines become adrenaline junkies. I love a thrilling, heart-pounding hedonistic adventure, but I am trying to focus this desire into effective servitude as well.
How can someone else learn from my experiences? Take my word that there is incredible joy and fulfillment in radical sacrifice, even true willingness to die. Lord willing I will someday be able to write about radical suffering for the name of Christ in my life instead of for the United States. I pray (sincerely) that you will too. Suffering produces steadfastness, patience, and maturity.
“God, I pray thee, light these idle sticks of my life, and may I burn up for thee. Consume my life, my God, for it is thine, I desire not a long life, but a full one, like you, Lord Jesus”
This is my deep, humble praise: I have a pulse, and it belongs to God.
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