It’s been two weeks since I’ve left the comforts of the States behind and headed towards the uttermost ends of the earth. At least as far as the Marines are concerned, this is it. The end of the line. On more than one occasion I find myself talking to guys about just that.  The despair of being here at times is sucking the life out of these guys.

And I’m left scratching my head trying to understand that despair. Sure I miss my family, sure life would be better if I did not have to walk through this desert for the next several months… or would it? I wrote a few weeks back about the awesome task of discovering eternal joy and how at times God has to rip away our earthly joys so we can get a clear glimpse of the undying peace that only comes when we have passed all understanding. I’m not going to lie and say I love every minute here. I miss hot showers, real bathrooms and AC that is cooler then 90, although in 120 degree heat 90 is awesome. But I have a secret that I’m aching to get out and that is that real joy is oblivious to the day in day circumstances that often surround us. It surrounds us. It envelopes us, it permeates the very core of who we are. Well it would if we just let go.

There’s a really neat scene from the movie First Contact with Jodie Foster that drives home this point in tangible terms. In the movie Ms. Foster is strapped into a sort of spaceship of alien design as she rockets through space on grand voyage to meet potential alien life. The sheer torture on her body is threatening to kill her as she holds on for dear life to the chair that NASA in all its wisdom added to the design. It’s not until she lets go of the human additions to the spacecraft and relies on the designers intent that peace comes.

I’m learning to let go of the chair.

Many who know me would say I’m a pretty laid back individual, yeah that’s a lie. I’m about as uptight as the next guy, seeking to control as much as I can, adding to the Designer’s intent just to make it safe for me.

But I know the answer and over the past decade of my life slowly allowed myself to be undone. Slowly often in baby steps I’m allowing God, the Designer, to work in my life and my Joy is growing. My peace is beginning to pass understanding. I’ve shared these thoughts with a few folks out here and I get a mix of blank stares, incredulous looks and a few knowing smiles.

Control is a lie, At least for me, I control nothing, but my grand secret is I serve a risen Lord who controls the very fabric of Space and Time. He is before all things, by Him, through Him and for Him all things were created, and in Him all things Hold together and find purpose. (See Col  1) That doesn’t leave much room for anyone else to control very much. I have joy when I should have sorrow, and peace when I should have worry because I know He lives, He is Lord and I’m His.

My prayer is that my secret get out, that the world around me would be drawn to my Joy, His Joy. That my peace would bring others to His peace. I pray that I bring, with or without words the presence of God.

Let go – Let God.

Chaplain Carson

It’s been seven days since I stepped off an Air Force jet into the heat blast that is Afghanistan. For those of you curious to know what your servicemen experience any given Sunday, or Monday for that matter, I’ve been told that to recreate the environment here is relatively simple - Take a blow-dryer, turn it on high heat, and point it at your face – Instant Afghanistan.  I’m starting to acclimate to the weather; that is I’m starting to understand that from 10 am to 2pm you do not leave your tent if you don’t have too. I’m also learning that deployment breeds workaholics. My work day starts when I get up and usually runs until about 10pm, because hey, I sleep in my office and eat in my sanctuary. The mentality is why stop working, your just going to be bored.

It is surprising what’s important here and what’s not. AC is paramount both for well being and for the laptops that everyone uses. Chow (Food) is relatively important with levels of freshness degrading the farther from civilization you get. I’ve personally yet to eat an MRE (food from a bag) as there seems to be plenty of decent food around. But I know as I push out to minister to the marines at outposts starting in the next few days that will change. Hygiene tends to fall to the bottom of the list of necessities. To be fair we do have showers (in a tent) however restroom facilities amount to a tub and a bag. I’ll spare you the details. Life is simple and yet complex. Everywhere you look you find tents that were probably stitched by the Apostle Paul. While inside these shelters from yesteryear the quiet hum of countless laptops, LCD’S and radios hint at some future world undiscovered.

Life tends to blur together in a fog of war, of sorts. Every day, even after just 7 short days, feels the same. It takes me a moment of concentration to remember the day of the week let alone the month. There are no week ends, no Friday nights, no end of day jitters. There is simply the hectic slow crawl of the machines of war – which amounts mostly to boredom, I imagine, for the Marines I serve. Hours are marked in patrol-sleep-patrol cycles as the days march along giving way to weeks and months. My own take on it all? Certainly not boredom, there is too much to do and too little time. This coming Sunday will mark the beginning of my services and I’ll be off in a thousand directions every week. The prayer that echoes in my heart is that I will remain true to the call, humble in service and joyful in life.

May I decrease, so that HE increases.

In His Grips,

Chaplain Carson

I am undone.

It’s 4 o’clock on a Wednesday in a place that strangely feels like home, and I’m finally settling into my own skin again. The preceding week has been an adventure in abandonment, and I’ve found myself in a reflective mood lost over most of the past few days. The dark and light of the days have blended into a sort of menagerie of sights and smells as I travel farther from the earthly joys of my life. Earthly joy – isn’t that a kind of false joy? I would answer yes and no all at once and as you’re left scratching your head I would smile and begin in earnest to explain a small revelation that God has allowed me to glimpse in my journey to war.

Our lives at any given moment are filled with joys and sorrows, all working together for a divine purpose. I’ll leave sorrow for another day and focus on what I believe to be the two types of joy that God allows us to experience in our lives, earthly and eternal. I believe God gives both sorts in measure for purposes all His own, using them to draw us to Himself. Now let’s be clear for a moment about joy of any sort. Joy is not an ice-cream cone on a Tuesday afternoon – that’s fleeting, that’s happiness.

Joy is the two-year-old that has chocolate ice-cream smeared from ear to ear in a smile that breaks you.

Joy is the gentle breeze that smells of pine and freshly cut grass as you dream dreams in the quietness of your own back yard.

Joy is the embrace of your wife in a lingering kiss as you head out the door to face the woes of the world.

My earthly joys are undone. I watched them evaporate as water from a bowl. One day they will return to me and even now they are buried deep within but they are turned to memories fading. As time entropies all things, so too are earthly joys, deep parts of who we are – gone with the passage of time. Given enough time away from earthly joy and they turn to sorrow or worse bitterness if not given to Christ who holds all things secure.

It was almost surreal as it happened, from a quiet moment I shared with my son, as we shed tears together, to the kiss goodbye from a woman who yearns for me as I for her, the joy begins to fade.

The car ride to base took the edge from the last good-byes and only when I dwell there can I touch those feeling again in quickly fading memories.

The bus trip to our flight surrounded with a hundred such lives of men all like my own, and the feeling of loss grows.

Watching the sunrise over a foreign shore as I stare blankly out of a window high above the clouds and my mind turns inward watching the change within as it gives up, gives in, gives away the expectations that come with earthly joy.

Stepping into the heat blast on rocky ground on the other-side of the world and the reflective nature of what is occurring begins to fade.

I am undone.

And yet.

I endure.

I’ve realized over the few days that have passed since I’ve arrived here that there is intentionality in this, more than a man going to war and experiencing hardship and the loss of earthy joys, fleeting happiness, and creature comforts, God is adjusting the lens of my life.

If you’ve spent any time talking with me you would know that one of the greatest fears of my time apart from my life is that I would continue to rely on God. Here’s an interesting point – when you crave joy more than anything, and you have your earthly joys taken from you, even for a season, what joy is left? The eternal. I still love my life, quiet evenings in the cool breeze, the laughter of children, the touch of my wife, but God has stated very quietly, very purposefully that for these next few months my love affair with the Author of the universe begins again. In that rediscovery of His love, when all else is removed from me by time and oceans, I gain the strength to minister to these men, show them Christ and spark within them a joy that has no basis in earthly, temporal things.

It is the energy I feel now as I write these final thoughts that perhaps the greatest gift of all is the gift of being undone, the loss of earthly joy for a deeper more long-lasting one. A joy found in the realization that Christ lives, He is Lord, and He loves.

A Joy Eternal.

Amazed,

Chaplain Carson

I have been anxious in anticipation since Friday of last week. I depart for Afghanistan in a few short days and in all honesty I wish I was leaving now. There is something about change that frightens us, it brings us to restless night and long days. The anticipation is usually far different from the actual event both for good and ill. We trump up our fears in the days before often binding us up in dread.

Now to placate any fears, no I’m not bound in dread, nor am I waking up in cold sweats. I am simply restless at night and wishing my time apart would have begun yesterday. I’ve chosen to be the last man out because others that walk this line with me are bound by the dread of the unknown and do find themselves walking down dark paths and deep valleys in anticipation of this grand journey into the heart of human conflict.  So I linger, to calm fears, to still troubled hearts with a love and peace that is not my own. It is moments like these that Christ shines all the more radiant. Turn a light on in a room filled by day and there is the fleeting of a few shadows into the corners but shine a light in the darkest of nights and the emptiness of the void in consumed by the glory of a thousand suns. It’s the greatest paradox of all, the farther you are from the light the more it effects you. Jesus spoke of this dilemma frequently, seeking out the lost and the hurting, not the well and comfortable. It is why the church thrives in danger and suffocates in freedom.

People who live in darkness, fear, despair recognize the need for the light and run too it.

So I find myself on the edge of adventure (don’t laugh – all of life is an adventure) waiting for the glory of the Lord to fill me and use me to bring light in dark places. For now pray for peace for these men that for reasons all their own are setting aside their lives for 7 long months to do what few of us would ever dare.

Pray for their families, for the sacrifice they are thrust into for the rest of this year; children longing for the embrace of a father, wives aching for the kiss of a husband, parents fearing for the safety of a child.

Pray for wisdom, for peace, for joy, for the quiet embrace of the Father.

I know in the days and weeks to come there will be other desires other requests, but for now I ask only for prayer. Often we find ourselves thinking we can do nothing. We relegate prayer to an afterthought, a good luck charm, a side dish. Oh how we have fallen for the lie, we’ve bound ourselves in a lie the Cross destroyed.

The Cross removed the blot of sin on our lives and ushered us into the presence of the Holy of Holies. The veil was torn and by Christ’s death we can meet face to face with God almighty, first in repentance then in petition.

Prayer is the purpose of the Cross. To seek God’s face, oh what joy, to speak and know He hears.

So pray, and pray again.

Prayfully,

Chaplain Carson