Stick with what you know

"So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him." --1 Samuel 17:50

As a college football devotee, I know that there is no more cliched expression in all of sports than depicting a classic mis-match as "David vs. Goliath." And yet, there are those times when David does beat Goliath. An example that comes to mind from this 2006 season is unranked Arkansas beating what was, at the time, #2 Auburn. Interestingly, Arkansas pulled the upset the same way that David beat Goliath: they stuck to what they knew.

The talking heads would say after the Arkansas- Auburn game that Arkansas played "their game." That is to say, Arkansas didn't buy the fact that because Auburn's team was lighter and faster that the Razorbacks should change their plans. Instead, Arkansas played their smashmouth football game and played it to a "T" and won the game.

So it is with David. When David comes forward and volunteers to battle Goliath, the first thing Saul does is try to fit David in his armor. David proclaims that he can't move in that stuff and instead turns to what he knows. He knows how to sling rocks at animals in the wilderness. He knows that God is bigger than Goliath. He knows that God will deliver him in this battle. And so, armed with this knowledge, David meets Goliath and fells him with a stone between the eyes.

Many times I catch myself trying to put on someone else's armor or trying to play someone else's game. And then I just fumble around and look silly. I need to be "me," the "me" that God called me to be. My "me" isn't perfect, but nobody's is. But my "me" is genuine and my "me" trusts that my shortcomings can be overcome by Christ. So today, dear reader, pick up your stones and go do battle as the best "me" you can be.

Speak

"How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent?" --Romans 10:14-15

A few weeks ago, I had a bit of an epiphany. (Yes, I know, it seems like epiphany confession time for me doesn't it? But, sharing these makes me more accountable.) I was sitting in a Quarterly Training Brief (QTB) where my boss, the Battalion Commander, briefs his boss, the Brigade Commander, on what training was conducted last quarter and what training will be conducted this quarter. I can't even remember what triggered this thought, but I remember that the Holy Spirit just zinged me right in the heart. The conversation went something like this:

"Chaplains are called to be the pastors of the battalion. So then, chaplain, where are the marks of the pastor in your battalion?"

So I thought about this question. First, what are the marks of the pastor? Put simply, it's ministry of Word and Sacrament. The latter is hard to do given some of the guidelines put forth by the LC--MS. But, as my Executive Officer (XO) likes to tell me, "the effective range of an excuse is zero meters." I am performing some Sacramental ministry in the Lutheran Service that I still pastor out on Sand Hill, but that's only once a month or so. So, I am covered somewhat there. The truly convicting part of the Spirit's question to me was the ministry of the Word and it's lack in my battalion. My confession is this: I have not been faithful to the study of the Word in my battalion. Period. And this is convicting to me.

"Yeah but," I tell myself, "the Army is a pluralistic environment and it would be wrong to hold Bible Study when most of my battalion isn't even Christian." Then I did a profile of the religious preferences in our battalion: 75% of my people are Christian, either Catholic or Protestant. 75% of the people that I serve claim, for the Army record, that they are Christian. Never mind the advice given to me during my confirmation instruction: "Always do what is right, even if you're the only one doing it; stand up for what you believe."

"Yeah but," I tell myself, "I don't know if it's been done in this battalion before." This is just a metamophosis of "the 7 last words of a church," which are: We've Never Done It That Way Before" I still can't believe I bought that line, but I did. I swallowed everything the devil dangled before me and now it makes me want to wretch. No one had ever risen from the dead before Jesus did it, either. Just because it hasn't been done doesn't mean it can't or shouldn't be done.

"Yeah but," I tell myself, "what if it's not good enough?" There's the old saw that says, "Good enough is neither." However, we are dealing with the Almighty Word of God, here. God promises that it will not return to Him void. I won't necessarily see the fruits of my labors but I am still called to sow seeds. Sure, with some work and dedication I can sow them well and sure those times will come when I'm not as ready as I should be and they won't be sown quite so well. The bottom line is that they are sown.

So, with this conviction, I am starting a Bible Study on Wednesdays during lunch so that I can fulfill the prompting of Paul above. I will preach. I will teach. I will put God's Word out there to be heard, learned, and inwardly digested. I have no idea how to do this or where to start, but I am going to start anyway and find my way as I go.

The question that I now pose to you, dear reader, is this: what has the Spirit convicted you on lately? What burden have you been ignoring? What sin have you needed to cast off but won't? What spiritual growth have you wanted to start but haven't? This conviction is not just for me as a pastor in the Army; this conviction is for all of us for all of are called to have a ministry in Christ, a service we perform for the Church. Are you doing that? If so, well done good and faithful servant. If not, have you bought the same lies that I bought? "How can they call on the one they have not believed in? How can they believe in one of whom they have not heard? How can they hear without someone preaching to them?" Go, friend, preach.

I am a kicker.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witness, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perserverance the race marked out before us." --Hebrews 12:1

I'm sure I have shared thoughts and feelings on this before, but just as, philosophically, you can't step in the same river twice, neither can we come to the Scripture the same way. We are fluid, changing, shifting, moving just like a river.

When I went home to witness first-hand the devastating defeat at the hands of the Buckeyes, I had an epiphany of sorts. It was then that I realized, in my current job, I am kicker. Actually, more like the kicking squad. Let me explain.

For the sake of this metaphor, the "kicking squad" is limited to 2 men on a 53-man roster in the pros and a bit larger in the college game. The "kicking squad" that I'm referring to are the place kicker and the punter. Usually the smaller and thinner guys on the team, the kicking squad is usually just an after-thought to the 245 lbs. Linebacker or the 6'4" QB with the "laser, rocket arm." This squad will spend very little time on the field of play, but the time they do spend there can have a huge impact. Sure, most of what these guys (and gals) do is an after-thought: add the extra point, get the game started, give the other team bad field position, etc. The punter is very rarely cheered when he appears on 4th down.

However, consider this: how crazy would it be to see the either kicker come out in last year's uniform? How much of a game-changer would it be to have the punter break the huddle on 4th and 2 inside the opponents 20 with the QB, because the punter just assumed that his team was punting on fourth down? How awkward would it be to see the kicker lazing on the sidelines will the rest of the team is lined up for the kick-off? In the grand scheme of things, extra points, punts and field goals are not that important. However, a last minute field goal can mean the diffference between victory and defeat; you can insert your favorite or worst memory here.

That being said, I don't run things around here like I did for a small part at St. Paul and St. Martin. I'm not expected to. I'm not the main effort, the key element of the logistical community in the Army. Very little that I do will directly win any war or put any medals on my chest. My role in a battalion is really quite tiny. Yet very important at the same, for I am the kicking squad.

When there's a big ceremony or celebration, I'm asked to "kick things off" with a prayer. When there's a problem that pops up over the weekend, I'm expected to respond and punt that puppy well out of our area of operation. When we work hard and "score," I'm there to put the ending on it with praises to God above. It's not necessarily game-changing but it's important.

So how silly do I feel when I show up in the wrong uniform or when I'm somewhere else because I didn't know what was going on? How dumb do I feel when I found out that I missed something because I wasn't reading from the same playbook? Without getting into specifics, this is what I feel like in what I am doing right now. I feel like the "damn fool kicker" who looks like he doesnt know what he's doing.

What makes it worse is that there is a "cloud of witnesses" watching while I wander about. One of the neatest things I ever saw at a game was a young couple wearing T-shirts that said, "Marcus Schnoor Fan Club." Marcus is a young man from DeWitt, Iowa, my hometown, who played for the University of Iowa but didn't see much action due to injuries and, well, not being all that great. Yet his friends were there at every game to watch. I like to think that all of us have a "cloud of witnesses" watching our every moves in our arena. Sure, we may not play much or we may not impact the game in any visible way, yet there are those people seated in the stands with T-shirts on declaring that they are in our fan club, even if it is just one person strong. It's for this one person, this lone individual, who has the guts to declare that he is in my fan club that I play the game for, no matter how small my role in the game may be.

I know there's at least one person in my fan club. He wears a T-shirt with my name on it. It's a T-shirt that cost Him dearly because it wasn't bought with money but with blood. Of all the great "cloud of witnesses" that watch what I do, there is one that never misses a game; His name is Jesus Christ. And even when I'm a damn fool kicker running around, not knowing where to go or what to do, screwing up my chance to be a great hero, He's jumping up and down in the stands, yelling and screaming his thorn-pierced head off, because I'm still in the game.

Jesus, I want so much to just go sit on the sidelines and pout and complain and give up. I'm so tired of looking like the fool, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, wearing the wrong uniform. But, Lord, if looking the fool makes your name known throughout my corner of the world, then so be it. Just give me the grace to forgive myself as I humiliate myself all day long, hopefully for your sake. Amen.