Making things happen
... with integrity
Tuesday, November 09, 2004 Volume VI Number 45
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by Ken Kemp |
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ndy is retired. How it could be that a contemporary of mine is retired, I can not say. It’s rather startling, really, to think that only a few short years ago, we were launching our careers. And now, he’s retired. (Am I repeating myself?) A Lt. Colonel, to be exact. |
When Andy and I studied side by side years and years ago, I remember his interest in the military. He spoke of the Chaplaincy. He talked about the needs of America’s fighting men and women. The war in Vietnam was winding down. Nixon recently resigned. The country seemed hopelessly divided. Social theorists predicted a new order. Old institutions would be dismantled, they said. New forms of community life would emerge. The United States would abandon its role as global watchman. A young John Kerry appeared before the Congress and specified horrific atrocities committed willy-nilly by a military gone amuck. Cynicism reigned. Universities discarded old methods and the classic academic tracks. Independent study ruled. The mastery of the old disciplines disintegrated as the measure of scholastic achievement. New fields of study were introduced in the name of diversity. It became a student-centered curriculum; the notion that there was a body of existing knowledge to be appropriated went the way of the Hootenanny. The most popular major in college then was sociology followed by psychology with forestry a close third.
Francis Ford Coppola released his version of the war in Apocalypse Now - a groundbreaking film. He caricatured the military in terms consistent with young Kerry’s view – a drug crazed, irrational decent into the heart of darkness. Many believed that this film captured the attitude of a nation towards the war and the military.
Right out of seminary, this was the military Andy and his young wife Nancy joined in hopes to be a spiritual influence. A chaplain. A pastor to soldiers.
From the start, Andy took on a philosophy he learned from Dr. Richard Halverson (who later would become Chaplain to the United States Senate). Halverson served as pastor for many years just outside Washington D.C. He believed that people learn in relationship. He studied the New Testament Gospels and concluded that Jesus’ effectiveness could be explained by his personal connection to the people who followed him. Even Jesus himself called it friendship. A recurring phrase, a simple prepositional phrase, identified the method. All the Gospel writers used this phrase to describe how he worked. Jesus was simply “with them.” That’s it. They walked together, laughed together, traveled together, talked together. They met people, answered questions, met needs. Together. Halverson built a substantial church ministry to government leaders of all sorts in Bethesda, Maryland on that one simple principle – a pastor should simply be with them – that is, his people.
So that’s what Andy did. In the mid-seventies, soldiers returned to their bases wounded, battle fatigued, shell shocked. Drug abuse was rampant. Physical wounds were matched and even overshadowed by psychological wounds. They returned from Southeast Asia to a nation that by and large rejected them. Their peers, the most vocal of them, considered these veterans collaborators with a hopelessly corrupt system. They were called offensive, insulting names. They were scorned. Rebuffed. And new recruits did not enjoy the nation’s thanks, either.
Andy, following a clear call, was there, listening. Praying. When he was appointed, he was not fully aware of knotty challenges on the mission field he’d chosen. He formed small group Bible studies. Gathered soldiers for worship. Led in communion. Baptized new converts. Offered counseling and support. Every day, he joined them out on the training field. He ran with the troops. He covered the obstacle course. When the guys went shooting on the range, he went shooting. When they jumped out of airplanes pulling the rip chord, he was there, too, shoutin’ “Geronimo!”
Soon the men opened up.
Andy is slow to measure the impact of his work in those early days. It was complicated. But he made a mark. More important, those days marked him. He saw transformation. He witnessed life-change. He watched prayer do its work.
His twenty years as an officer and a chaplain took him and his good wife Nancy all over the world. For eight of those years, he served as one of the three Chaplains at West Point. Everywhere he went, he shared God’s grace and redeeming love.
Now he and his wife, in his retirement, host a pastor’s retreat center on a lake in Southern Wisconsin. His gift as a counselor and a friend to wounded soldiers, he now brings to a sanctuary for fatigued pastors.
Carolyn and I sat around the table with Andy and Nancy and other ministry colleagues last week.
Not that I’m a battle weary minister. Not yet, anyway. I’m a newbie.
The new chapter in my life is still something of a blank page.
Chaplain Andy was there with warm encouragement, and sound advice. Even for me.
* * * * * *
Find your pace. Learn the value of solitude. Get your rest. Don’t just read the Word, savor it. Take time with your prayers. Listen as much as you speak. Look for the intangibles. Let the work go from the inside out, not the other way around. Be ever on the hunt for God sightings. Cherish his good gifts. Drink long and deep from the well of living water. Think as much about being as doing. Read the classics – those who learned to experience God in real time and then wrote about it. Don’t just talk about Jesus, walk with him. When emotion wells up out of goodness or truth or purity or beauty – pay attention. Reflect.
Look into the eyes of your beloved long enough to see past the eyes – look long enough to see something of the soul. Treasure.
Write down your most anxious thoughts – tuck the page in an envelope – seal it – write the simple word “TRUST” on the front – place it somewhere conspicuous. Leave it there. Move on to more important things.
Walk long enough to grow weary of walking. Hold hands. Sing. Walk in the rain. Bundle up against the chill, and go outside anyway. Watch the flames dance in the fireplace as you warm up afterwards.
Cut out the distractions.
Welcome silence.
This is the stuff Andy taught us around the table in the glow of candlelight.
It filled us up.
* * * * * * *
It’s Tuesday morning. You are a leader.
God has us on a steep learning curve these days. What might have been predictable boredom at this stage in our life has become the polar opposite. I was so completely exhausted last night, I could not complete this week’s LF until now. But it was worth the wait. That exhaustion was, well, exhilarating in a strangely wonderful sort of way.
My old seminary pal has matured into a leader of men. His partner, Nancy, a care-giver, nurturer and dear friend. They’ve made an unforgettable impression on our lives… and now that you know them, yours, too.
You need those insights from Chaplain (LTC) Andy Retired.
Go back and re-read those lessons.
Treasure. Trust. Cherish. Rest. Listen.
In the quiet.
And grow strong again.
Refreshed.
Posted in Valley Center, California
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2004
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