Submitter’s Note: After returning from the “Land of Far Away,” I must lose my wife to a 3-month work opportunity in Washington D.C. (Your sympathy is appreciated as I’ll be eating cereal three times a day for the next three months.) To get her settled, we must begin a trek from Tucson to the epicenter of bureaucracy today. Since this precludes me from posting, I’ve invited a fellow Airman to take my post this week. (Pls keep the cheers to a dull roar.) Thanks and enjoy.
Okay, DeJon finally got me into this blog kicking and screaming (or at least with reservations). Although I somewhat object to the title, I assume DeJon had his reasons for it and so I will leave it as is.
As a guest columnist, you might want some information on who I am. My name is Duane McCrory and I am a chaplain in the USAF who has recently returned from a deployment to Iraq, just one week ago today, hence the “war hero” in the title. My responsibilities at my deployed location involved being the chaplain for the busiest hospital in Iraq and what is called the Contingency Aeromedical Staging Facility, a place where anyone leaving the country comes from other theatre hospitals to be aeromedically evacuated to a facility with a higher echelon of medical care. I am stationed at Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson, AZ, just like DeJon and that is where we met.
There’s nothing like spending three hours of your morning typing up a post only to have Netscape close and lose all of your information when you press the spell check button. I’ll just deal with any spelling errors this time.
I had a really good posting for you, but alas apparently it was not to be. This will likely not come anywhere close to what I had put before because now I only have about thirty minutes as opposed to three hours before, but here goes anyway.
During my time in Iraq, working at the hospital, I saw many things that are difficult for most people to see. While we have so much distance between us and the typical news report, I saw everything up close. I used to be able to watch the news and hear about things such as Operation Matador, feel sadness over the loss of the four Marines yesterday, and move on with my life. That is not the case anymore. Now when I hear of such operations, I wonder how many more people will come to the hospital and how many more lives will be affected than the normal day-to-day operations in Iraq. Any time an operation like this starts, there will ultimately be many more people that are injured or killed than would have been otherwise. And while the cause is a good one, in my opinion, it still takes a toll on many people. There are the drivers who have hit roadside IEDs (improvised explosive device) and been the direct cause of the death of a close friend and will forever feel that guilt. There are the combat medics who treat people on the scene to keep them alive as they are transported to better care like our hospital where I worked. There are the transport helicopters, the Emergency Room staff, the surgeons, the ICU nurses, the medical staff at the hospitals where the patients will be transported, the family of course, the unit members, and even the chaplains. There are so many people affected by even one injury or death that it is impossible to know the reprecussions. All of this I saw every day during my deployment.
This made me think about what ministry really is and since I’ve been back, I really reflected on what this says about what we as Christians ought to be doing. It is only someone from an affluent society and background that has time to sit around and discuss the merits of evolution or creationism. Only the wealthy can worry about whether or not it is right to have a lower-case “c” or a capital “C” in Church of Christ. Only those with the money to afford a computer and internet access can post information to a blog so that people can dialog with one another across much space and time. For the majority of the world’s population, this will never be the case. In fact, the irony is not missed on myself as I sit here typing on my laptop with high-speed internet in my four-bedroom house with a 2003 Expedition parked in my two-car garage. It is a privilege even to be able to have theological discussion, as necessary as I believe it to be. But my time in Iraq has led me to really consider what we as Christians should be doing to make a difference in people’s lives.
In the chaplaincy, we learn what is called “ministry of presence.” I understood in a more profound way what that meant in the hospital in Iraq. For there, more than anywhere else, people questioned where God is in the midst of tragedy. What I say just by my presence is that he is there, standing, watching, ever present waiting for people to ask for his help. He is not distant from our problems, but walks alongside us when we hurt. 1 Peter 2:9 calls it being “a royal priesthood” a people who bring people to God and God to people. That is what priests do. That is what Jesus did. He could have spent his time with the academic elites in the temple in Jerusalem. Instead he chose to walk among the suffering of this world and bring them hope. If you read Matthew 25:31-46, that is what he expects of us as well.
We cannot all choose to be involved in ministry in Iraq, but there are so many hurting people around us that we can help. We are all called to be God’s ministers. Getting involved in the lives of others is messy, but if we are truly concerned with following the pattern of Christ and bringing people to God, we will step out of our wealthy, affluent, busy lifestyles and reach out to the hurting people all around us, just as Christ did. For, “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:40)
My other potential posting was much better and had a lot more to offer, but I hope this one will suffice for DeJon’s column this week. Thanks for the opportunity to write.
Duane
Hungry Hungry Hippos 