THOUGHTS ABOUT UNITY
How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity! - Psalm 133:1
Sometimes I think we miss the good and pleasant experience of living in unity because we think we can’t have it unless we get everyone else to see things our way. Unity comes about when we learn to live with each other despite our differences, not when we convert everyone to our point of view. Those who argue for total and complete agreement as a prerequisite for unity, love the illustration of the two cats. If you tie two cats’ tails together, you have union, but not unity. When I hear that illustration, I have a mental picture of two cats scratching, clawing, hissing and screeching. They’re right. The union of the two exacerbates their division. Unity can never be achieved by proclamation, announcement, declaration, or corporate merger. We can’t get there by pretending the tensions don’t exist. But neither is unity achieved be persuading other to see everything alike.
Real unity is achieved when we learn to respect each other, love each other, treat one another fairly, and support each other in time of need despite our disagreements. Some of my dearest friends and family members stubbornly refuse to see things the same way I do, but they would lay down their lives for me if necessary. Jesus said, “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13). If my life is on the line, I do not require the person who lays down his life for me to agree with all my opinions, interpretations, biases, and ideas. If laying down your life for a friend doesn’t unify you with that person, then it’s a pretty decent substitute.
A CHECKERS BRAIN IN A PLAY STATION WORLD
Sometimes I think I just don’t fit into the contemporary world. This was the week that the long awaited Play Station 3 went on sale. From what I hear, it’s the biggest thing that’s happened since Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin. It probably rivals the invention of the wheel in technological achievement. Our local newspaper reported that people stood in line for 48 hours in chilly weather to be among the first people to buy Play Station 3 when it went on sale at Target. It takes about $600 to own one of these things. That’s no small outlay of capital. Most of the people who got there first, say they’re going to sell them on e-bay, presumably for more money. Besides that you’ve got to have HDTV to make the thing work. You’ve got to spend a couple of thousand dollars for a television set, another $600 for the Play Station Platform, and no telling how much money for the games themselves. That’s a lot of pocket change to put out just because you’re looking for something to do in your spare time. In some parts of the country, people have actually been robbed and killed while waiting in line.
What does that have to do with my age? Just this. I don’t understand it. Furthermore, there’s no way I’m going to understand it. I don’t have the slightest notion about how to use a Play Station. I keep remembering a world in which my cousins and I owned one checkerboard. When we lost some of the checkers, we asked my aunt for some buttons to use in their place. In a world without television receivers, computers, DVD’s, Play Station, MP3’s and ipods, our entertainment options were limited. My grandmother had a windup Victrola, but we had to go to her house to play it, and we could only play it when she was able to save up a few pennies from her butter and egg money, so she could afford phonograph needles. We amused ourselves by playing checkers with buttons. Sometimes we might visit a kid who had the real state of the art game – Chinese checkers. I quit playing checkers because I never could see the jumps ahead of time, and my cousin, Noma could beat the socks off me.
Today you can probably pick up a good checkerboard at Goodwill for two or three dollars, and I might do that except for the fact that I still can’t see the jumps ahead of time. Either the mechanism that enables one’s brain to do that is defective, or I’ve worn it out by concentrating on weightier matters like determining the square root of 12. I can’t do that either. I definitely won’t take on Noma in checkers, but if she would challenge me to a game of Trivial Pursuit, I’d be a formidable opponent. Yeah, I’m too old to live in a Play Station world, but I’ll make a prediction. I’m neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, nevertheless I feel confident in asserting the premise that twenty years from now you’ll be able to pick up Play Station 3 at Goodwill for nearly nothing.
CHANGE OF COMMAND ADDRESS
O. K. I’ll admit it. I’m a proud father. My son is an officer in the United States Army. I just had to share his remarks when he recently relinquished battalion command – Norman
by Lt. Col. William E. Bales
It was the 22nd of June 2006, Fort Bliss Texas, and there we were.
Distinguished Guests, Fellow soldiers thank you for joining us and supporting these soldiers today. COL Buhidar, thank you for your kind words and great leadership. Todd, welcome to the battalion and I wish you all the best. But today is not about either one of us. It is about the great continuity within our Army. The continuous readiness of the soldiers who stand on this field to answer the nations call to arms. And this ceremony celebrates that continuity.
When I stood on a field at Fort Hood, Texas 2 years ago to begin this great adventure, I knew three things: that there is an Almighty God of Heaven who works out the plans he has for us, plans for good and not for evil; that I have the greatest Army family ever; and that today is the best day of my life. As I said then, not because of any significant event, but because each day a man gets to stand in the presence of his heroes is the best that we can hope for this side of eternity. Today, those same three truths are firmly intact.
In his book Carnage and Culture, Victor Davis Hanson writes about the torpedo bomber pilots of the battle of Midway, who took inferior aircraft against a superior force, knowing that they would be decimated and have little effect on the Japanese fleet. But they knew that their sacrifice would enable a greater chance of success for their comrades in the dive bombers attacking from above. Of them he writes, “Even their names seem almost caricatures of an earlier stalwart American manhood – Max Leslie, Lem Massey, Wade McCluskey, Jack Waldron – doomed fighters who were not all young 18-year-old-conscripts, but often married and with children, enthusiastic rather than merely willing to fly their decrepit planes into a fiery end above the Japanese fleet, in a few seconds to orphan their families if need be to defend all they held dear. One wonders if an America of suburban, video-playing Nicoles, Ashleys, and Jasons shall ever see their like again.”
In this formation there are 3 Nicoles, 2 Ashleys, and 14 Jasons. I wager that every one of us in this formation has at some time played some sort of video based entertainment. But I have seen the answer to what Dr. Hansen seems worried about. That before you stands a next great generation of heroes and you need to know some of their stories.
In this formation are 22 single parents, including some of our key leaders. They did not ask to raise their children alone, but they rise every morning before most of us think about getting up, take their children from their slumber and take them to carefully chosen care givers, and they fall in for formation. They make special arrangements for their children’s care each time they go to the field or are called to war. They could leave the Army with an honorable discharge, but they choose the sacrifice of service over any other option. You are my heroes.
In this formation is a young soldier who came from a difficult past. He was expelled from school in 8th grade, spent quite a bit of time in trouble as a young man, then joined the Army. He continued to struggle as he adapted to his new life as soldier, husband and father. One day, he asked if he could talk with me. Usually when that happens, there is a perceived problem with a leader, some serious financial hardship, or other trouble. He said to me, “Sir, you seem to have it together with this Army thing. I just can’t seem to get the hang of it. Can you tell me what I need to do to be a better soldier?” No complaining about leaders, no asking me to bend over backwards to get him out of a jam. Just an honest request to be a better servant of the nation. Today, he is a Specialist and one of our most aggressive and trusted maintainers. I don’t know about his judgement of character if he thinks I have it together, but you are my hero.
There is a soldier in our formation who came to the unit an uncertain and timid young lady. Within a short time, a person in position of authority harrased, abused, and assaulted her. With great trepidation, she brought her story forward, even as this experience negatively affected her behavior and duty performance. Courageously, she testified against him and sent him to jail, removing him as a threat to our formation. Under great stress, she improved her duty performance and was recently recognized and awarded for her superior duty performance. You are my hero.
There is a soldier in our formation who was referred to by some as worthless and a dirt bag. His chain of command sought his separation. A great command sergeant major pulled this young man aside, and took personal interest in teaching him how to straighten out his uniform, get to work on time, and improve his work ethic. His efforts were rewarded when this young man went from dirt bag chapter case to one of our finest new Sergeants. Tragically, shortly after his promotion, his father was brutally murdered. This horrific event stunned him emotionally, but he never stopped soldiering. And when he found out that he had inherited an enormous sum of money, we were certain he would depart the service and enjoy his new found wealth. To my amazement, he reenlisted. When asked why, he said, “Because this has been the greatest experience of my life. This is what is best for me. This is where I belong.” You are my hero.
There is a young soldier in our formation who came to us following his unit’s tour in Afghanistan. Because of his unique skill with a weapon, he was selected as a sniper for his battalion. He executed his duties with diligence and competence. He saved hundreds of his comrades lives on dozens of occasions by killing enemy personnel before they could harm his fellow soldiers. But the experience of being personally responsible for the deaths of many other human beings has taken a great toll on him. When he hears the sound of gun shots, or even a car backfiring, he is unable to sleep and unable to function the way he wants to. He fights through the pain and anguish every day to do his duty and he expressed to me that his only desire was to be able to continue to be a soldier and get back to the way he was. A brave American who traded his peace of mind for the lives of his fellow man and the service of his country. You are my hero.
There is a soldier in our formation, who was a Bradley gunner in Iraq. Executing his mission day in and day out in one of the most dangerous areas of that region. During a rapid response mission, his Bradley Linebacker struck an enormous improvised explosive device so powerful, that it ejected the turret out of the Bradley onto the road beside it. With the driver killed, the Bradley commander incapacitated, and himself wounded, he continued to attempt to report his situation from his seat in the now separated turret. No one would have questioned his leaving the service after that time. He and his family have endured a long rehabilitation and great mental anguish. A few months ago, he was passing a 1st Cavalry Division motor pool where he saw a Bradley turret removed for maintenance. His emotional response, completely understandable, required other soldiers to assist him until he could come back to himself. And yet, he took on a new MOS, and recently reenlisted to stay in our Army. You are my hero.
So, Dr. Hanson, wonder no more. The American Army, and this battalion, filled with Nicole’s, Ashleys. Jasons, Bobs, Patricias, Jose’s, Steves and Judy’s have proved that they are more than capable, more than committed to the continued preservation of the nation. As I walk away, I carry their memories and stories seared into my heart. They will go with me every day. And their presence with me from now until the ending of the world will make every day the best day of my life.
May God bless and prosper each of you in your continued service to our great nation. This is Defender 6 Ancient off the net, I’ll see you on the high ground.
COMMUNION: THE BIG PICTURE
For more than half a century I’ve had the privilege of regularly sharing the Lord Supper with my brothers and sisters.
I have missed many opportunities to do that.
During that period of time, I’ve listened quite a bit of preaching.
My emotional response to the preaching has been mixed.
Sometimes I’ve felt uplifted and encouraged.
Sometimes I’ve been convicted.
There have also been times when I’ve been disgusted with the preaching because I thought the speaker was misinformed, self-serving, arrogant or incompetent.
Sometimes the preaching has bored me, and that probably is as much my fault as it was of the man who was preaching.
My response to the Lord’s Supper is different. It has not always been a mountain peak experience. On the other hand, it has not been an activity that I’ve resent. Even when the preaching is bad, the singing is off key, and the prayers are mechanical, I’ve gone away feeling blessed because I shared the table with my brothers and sisters. It’s true however that it means more to me on some occasions than it does on others. I get distracted, or I allow the cares of the world to interfere with the sacredness of that occasion. Or maybe I just come into the assembly with a sour attitude. Still for the most part I’ve never criticized the Lord’s Supper the way I have the preaching. I’ve rarely ever critiqued the way the servers are dressed, the taste of the fruit of the vine, or the manner in which presider tried to help us understand what it all about. When my observance of the Lord’s Supper is less than meaningful, I usually have no one to blame but myself.
But when I look back at the big picture, I consider myself blessed to have enjoyed the privilege of this communal meal for so many years. That word “communion” basically means “common.” It’s always important because we are celebrating our common blessing – the forgiveness of our sins, which is made possible by the death of Jesus on the cross. To enjoy it and appreciate it, I don’t have to concern myself with mechanics of the distribution of the commemorative emblems. To find a blessing in this time,together, I only need to focus my attention on the cross and on the Savior.
