Life has settled into a routine – 3 months in and this has become my new normal. It’s funny how things change so quickly in life and we adapt, overcome or maybe just make due. I am accustomed to wearing flip-flops in the shower now, to spending every night in a sleeping bag, to Jerry-rigging everything. I have 550 cord strung all over my sleeping area and everything from my towel to a light hangs from it. My doorway is a tarp. But that’s not really for privacy – there’s no such thing as that – it more to let people know I’m probably asleep and they will have to shout louder if I they need me to wake up for some reason or another. RP and I spent the better half of the past two weeks getting our “new” chapel set up at Camp Hanson. I say “new” because the tent was probably used on the set of MASH. None-the-less it’s a nice tent and houses the chapel sanctuary which will seat about 40, office space, and Berthing for RP and myself.

I still spend most of my days on the road, moving from place to place looking for a conversation, a starting point or anything that I can use to be light and salt to the men I serve. Everything is a tool, every experience a path. All roads if you really think about it, even in the desert, even in war – lead to the cross. We are in the hump of the deployment – the midway point – where the newness has worn off, we are no longer fresh – and yet the end is still not in sight – so begin for about the next month – the grind. We are in our new normal. Sometime around October the feeling that this is what life is will be shrugged off and as the light at the end of the tunnel is in sight. Every one deployed goes through it I’m told – it’s “normal” so they say.

And yet….

I guess I’m not normal. Sure there is a routine, I’m used to this life now – but I’m not in a slump – I’m energized – I’m at peace – true joy is etched across my face – not because I find myself here. But rather because God has brought me here. The Chaplain Corp, the Marines, the Federal Government may think that the reason I find myself in Afghanistan is because of them but I know better.

I know three things about God: He is Sovereign, He is good, and He loves me.

Therefore where-ever I find myself, whatever my lot in life I know this: God brought me there for good because He loves me.

I’ve been studying Lamentation 3 recently, and it continues to bring me joy because of the great faithfulness of God – even to a people who reject Him.

May God show you the reason for your Afghanistan.

Chaplain Carson

I’m a third of the way through this deployment and you can see the fatigue starting to set in. Everywhere I look guys are beat down. I’ve been told that deployment adds a good 5 years to you, and I can understand why. Most guys out here work about 16-20 hours a day and get sleep in spurts. If you get a good 6 hours of sleep at one time you’re one of the lucky ones.  It continues to amaze me how resilient these guys are in spite of all the setbacks they face daily. One group of guys built a deck of sorts with a small center-block burn pit in the middle. They spend their off hours (the few they get) burning the wood from broken crates, playing the guitar and singing karaoke. Anything to forget you’re in Afghanistan for a few hours is a good thing.

I think the favorite past time of most of us out here is dreaming about what we are all going to do the first day we get back home. Granted I’m with Marines and most of them default to “drink myself stupid” but a few appreciate the finer things in life – like pizza.

This past time is the springboard for my next soapbox. It goes something like this….

We are called strangers in a strange land, very similar to Marines in a warzone. The world around us is hostile and we know that one day our sojourn on this earth will end. So that begs the question: Is Heaven as real for you as the Homecoming these Marines are dreaming of – or – are you simply making do? I think we simply make do far more then we should.

This life should not satisfy – we were not created for it. We were created for more. It is far too easy to build a campfire and spend your days playing the guitar and forgetting for a moment that life is brutal. But don’t for a second think that this form of escapism is enough for these Marines. They long for more – They want home so bad it is the object of every conversation, every other thought, every unspoken word is saturated with a sickness that can only be cured the day they arrive home.

Are you escaping/ignoring life, not really long for something else but simply trying to dull the pain? The hard truth is the pain can never be dulled by ignoring it.  But what if I could promise you more, something else far better, far more glorious then this desert, this Afghanistan you find yourself in. What if I could promise you the ability to go home.

I can’t but HE did. Christ died, and rose, to destroy the power of sin and usher us into the home that He has, and is preparing for us. A far better country, one truly flowing with abundance and filled with the presence of God.

I love the line at the end of Tolkien’s trilogy

“And the grey clouds turn all the silver glass, and beyond he saw a far green country”

It speaks to the heart of the matter and explains why in the midst of the desert I walk in Joy.  There awaits for me and all who call HIM Lord, a far green country.

Welcome Home

Chaplain Carson

Ah, the nature of war and communication. I apologize for the non-existent posts the past few weeks but the ability to type up anything, let alone upload it to the internet has been a trial in itself. So here is, in post form, my excuse of why I’ve been so “lazy” the last few weeks. I returned to my battalion 3 weeks ago this past Thursday and was immediately hit by two very big revelations. One I was tracking, the other I was not. I knew that I was receiving Catholic support for my Marines the next week in the form of a Catholic Chaplain.  The problem is the services are very short on Catholic chaplains and roughly ¼ of all servicemen claim Catholicism as their expression of the Christian Faith. So to solve the issue once every 6 to 8 weeks I have a Catholic Chaplain fly into my AO (Area of Operations) and we travel around providing Mass and Protestant services to as many men as we can get too. It was an awesome week. I accused my Catholic counterpart of being Baptist and He accused me of not being Baptist enough. Most people hear the term Baptist and think 1950’s hellfire and brimstone preaching. Now sure I throw out the gauntlet from time to time but I rarely tend to get red in the face when I preach. All said and done the week was an awesome experience and I look forward to our next week traveling together.

The other revelation was one that I had been warned of in the back of my mind but was not prepared to spin so quickly on. I was moving – from one location to another. Now to be clear I move all the time, but I do operate out of a Chapel and am there on weekends. A chapel that has been in the same location for the past 2 years. Sure it’s a tent but you’d be surprised how permanent you can make a tent. So I’m told on Friday that I need to have my chapel packed into a box and ready to move in roughly 5 days.

Nice….

I threw my assistant to the wolves and made him do it while I enjoyed traveling around being lazy and generally hanging out with my Marines. Hey it’s my job! So fast forward a week and here I sit in a small tent that is serving as my temporary tabernacle waiting for my Cathedral to show up so I can move back into my home away from home. I get to spend the next few days with a fellow chaplain who I went to school with so it’s not all bad.

I’ll leave you with this small epiphany – You know the saying War is Hell?

I’ve discovered what hell is – it is boredom.

I don’t dodge bullets I dodge long moments of waiting filled with surges of excitement as God reveals Himself through teaching and one-on-one encounters as I bring light and salt to a dark and dull world.

May He be exalted.

Chaplain Carson

Now I know what you’re thinking – and no – I’m not writing this from my living room in North Carolina. No, for me, home is FOB Marjah, Afghanistan – at least for the next 5 or so months. And it’s good to be back here where I belong for this season of my life. I greatly appreciate all the prayers that got me home to be with my family during the farewell of my father as he stepped into eternity. I loved seeing my mom and sisters and spending some welcomed time with my wife and kids. The time was short but good. The joy of the Lord continues to be my family’s strength through the days ahead.

I posted last that I would write a somewhat reflective post on my father’s passing and the meaning his life had on me and I think after some reflection a whole post isn’t necessarily what God has put on my heart and so I leave it to this simple line surrounded by much lighter fare.

My father died as he lived, more focused on the next world then on this one. He’s home.

Speaking of home, my own journey to my home away from home was interesting, boring, fast, slow and everything in between. The standard travel along commercial line back to Doha, Qatar was un-eventful and even at times pleasant though to anyone who has travelled for 24 hours straight with that many people around you the need for a shower, a shave and the great desire to brush teeth trumps everything. Not to mention airline food has a unique position of being both gourmet and junk all rolled into one. On one flight I had couscous with a yogurt sauce which sounds very high class except it came in a container that looked like it had been made in the 80s.

Really, couscous and yogurt… on a flight?

Give me a PB and J made last week and I’m good – honest. And what person at what level decided that people buying the cheapest ticket possible needed imitation French cuisines. So I left Jacksonville at 2pm and arrived in Doha (+7hrs) at 11pm on Sunday. By the time I checked into the Air force Base terminal in Al Udeid it was 2am Monday. I was informed there was a flight headed to Kandahar around 6am and I could wait and see if they had a seat for me.

As an aside when you are Emergency leave you get first crack at everything. Coming back to theater I was what is referred to as SPACE-A (space available) and was essentially at the bottom of the food chain, which is quite fine because there are other people that need to move much quicker then me, it just makes for a lot of waiting. So I keep my eyes open until 6am and – yup – flight was full with the next possible flight at 9pm. Well I knew there was no way in a million years I could go another 15hrs without some shut eye so I went and found some berthing and slept the day away, and the night, and most of the next day, and the next night. I didn’t miss my flight; remember I’m SPACE-A, I have no flight – just a chance at a flight.

It was odd, I started feeling guilty for sleeping and not trying harder to get back to my unit – even though I was informed by more then one individual that there was nothing more to do. I have this love/hate relationship with sleep. I love to sleep and hate appearing lazy – go figure. So the whole time I’m waiting for a flight I’m praying and God is saying as gently as He can – “Philip – I got this.” Now normally when someone tells you they “got this” that’s trouble and you should turn tail and run or look for some other way – But when it’s the Ancient of Days, well trust that He’s got it.

And sure enough I got a flight Wednesday that was straight though to Camp Bastion (where I needed to be ultimately before I transferred to rotary wing – Helicopter) . The interesting thing here is if I had taken an earlier flight I probably would still be stuck in Kandahar waiting for a flight to Bastion as I write this – instead of typing at my desk.

Trust God – He’s got this.

Not only did God provide a straight flight, He so inclined the flight crew to let me ride in the cockpit of a Boeing C-17 Globemaster III for the whole trip. For those of us that are not pilots, this truly was the trip of a lifetime. Take off and the landing was a bit eye opening – not to mention the casual almost cavalier attitude of the pilots who treat the mysterious ways of piloting as an everyday occurrence. They were not the above the average man professionals – but two dudes, and I use that term definitively that happened to also be pilots.  In short it was a cool ride. And the view through 4 foot windows was – lets just say as tired as I was, I was wide awake.

So Thursday morning (+8.5hrs EST) at 2am I arrived at Camp Bastion the British counterpart to Camp Leatherneck and there was no-one to meet me, not that I expected it. But still flying into a strange terminal with no idea where to go or what to do at 2am was kind of sketchy. Exhausted I did the best thing I could, I crashed on the closest bench for a few hour and slowly by the grace of God (mainly because I was still half asleep) made my way across the base to the rotary wing terminal just in time….

…to wait for 10 hours for a 4pm flight that I might get a spot on head to of all places FOB Marjah – a flight which rarely ever happens. See I told you God said “I got this” and He really did. Who are we to doubt Him?

Anyway that was yesterday and I’m home. Home not because it’s where I sleep or where my loved ones are. No I’m home because even as I write this I’ve realized something, the old adage, home is where the heart is, is more true then we understand.  My heart is pursuing His will, and for me His will is here.

 So I’m Home.

And one day, as my father knows better then I, His will for me will be eternity – and then at long last I will be good and truly home…

…to stay

In His Grips

Chaplain Carson