From the Cradle of Civilization

Sorry Ladies this posting is for us Men.

The average Chapel attendance here is comparable to that of the majority of churches in the United States, women out number the men.  On Christmas Eve that trend was broken, even if only for one service, the men out numbered the women ten to one.  From the Commanding General to the youngest Private the Chapel was full of men.

I enjoyed seeing so many men gathered together for a service honoring Jesus and not for other reasons.  Men, gathered, worshipping, praying, and singing for the glory of God.  I swelled with happiness as I looked around the Chapel and watched the men tentatively listening to the message.  I especially enjoyed the harmony of deep base voices singing Christmas carols in praise of Jesus.  The final song of the service was Silent Night.  The final stanza was A cappella and it was inspiring to hear this group of men singing so softly and so earnestly.

I say that because this was not your ordinary group of men.  This was the nations finest.  Rough neck war torn soldiers whom, frankly, I would not want to go up against in a fight, praising Jesus and singing a tender song as if to a small child.  These men are warriors not afraid to stare into the eyes of their enemy, and here they were standing together in a makeshift Chapel, under candlelight, worshipping their maker meekly and with great respect.      

As awesome as that service was, it also made me a bit sad.  Sad to know come Sunday the demographics would be back to normal and women would once again out number the men.  Sad to know these soldiers only reflect the American culture as a whole.  The numbers of men attending church is steadily declining.  Only forty years ago, men were the foundation of the family and the Church.  Today men typically make up only one third of the parishioners who regularly attend church and fatherless homes are on the rise.  Just 26 years ago, homes headed by a father hovered around 71%.  Today that number is 56%.  Almost half of America’s families are fatherless or have part time fathers.  Almost half!    

Studies have proven that when men regularly attend church, with their families, their children are more likely to become practicing Christians.  When men skip on church, the family soon follows.  Many women regularly attend church without their spouse or their children.  This split often resonates throughout the rest of the family’s relationships. 

Studies have also shown that families who regularly worship and pray together stand the storms of this world.  Men who lead their families and lead them to church are establishing a firm foundation for the success of their children.  The bible is a great guide for the family.  God’s intention for the family is paternal in nature.  Men understood this to be true through the ages.  It is only recently that men have shirked this great responsibility God has entrusted to us.

I view the greatest failure of my life as my failed relationship with my oldest daughter.  Nothing weighs heavier on my heart than the lost love between us.  I often pray for our reconciliation and that I may be a better father and role model for her.  I cannot help to think that things would have been different for us had I been a Christian father leading a Christian family.  Alas, I cannot change my mistakes or the past, so I must learn from my mistakes, do my part to mend broken hearts, and live as God intended me to live.   

One of the great things about Christianity is the fact that we may be forgiven by our maker.  He washes away our mistakes and we can begin a new life through Him.  Through Him, we may mend failed relationships, and heal broken hearts.  Through Him, we can seek guidance on fathering a promising Christian family.  Through Him, we can stop the cycle of generation after generation of failing fathers.  Through Him, we can.

I pray for the day when the pews of our Chapel here and all churches are once again graced with the presence of many Christian men seeking His guidance and living the life He wants us to live.  Most of all, I long for the day when men are once again leading their families to salvation.

Men, it is never too late…through Him, all things are possible.  Even a Chapel full of war torn soldiers on Christmas Eve.                 

Interesting article on men attending church:

http://www.fisheaters.com/menandchurch.html 

I had originally written a nice posting about how the spirit of Christmas is alive and well here in Iraq and how, without the commercialism, the reason for the season has shone through.  God’s ultimate gift of Himself in the flesh to become a new covenant for man and how it transcends all and fires our desire to continue the traditions we cherish at home here in this war torn Muslim nation.

But a brief conversation I had with my commander changed that for me the other day.  I presented a gift, addressed to him, from one of Grace Works parishioners.  As I watched him open the box he commented on how nice it was to receive such a package, and then he turned to me and said, “Is there anyway I can send this forward to one of the combat out posts?”  He had just learned that some locations were still only receiving one warm meal a day and living conditions were very sparse at best.  “A box like this would be a great gift for them and they could really use it”, he told me. 

I walked away to work a way to send the package forward when his comment really hit me.  I have it pretty nice here.  God has been very good to me and although I have made it a personal goal to ensure my team here enjoys their Christmas away from home I failed to realize that some of those under my charge, in other camps, are struggling day to day without complaint.  It made me wonder; how many lost souls are dotted across this war zone struggling to just get by, missing family and friends, and facing a lonely or lost Christmas?  For them I ask you, to pray together as a family, on Christmas Eve for their safety, peace, and comfort.  Most of all pray that they may feel the warmth of God’s embrace and bask in his love when Christmas morning comes for them.                  

I shall leave you with this Soldiers’ Christmas Poem:

Twas The Night Before Christmas,
   He Lived All Alone,
   In A One Bedroom House Made Of
   Plaster And Stone.
  
   I Had Come Down The Chimney
   With Presents To Give,
   And To See Just Who
   In This Home Did Live.
  
   I Looked All About,
   A Strange Sight I Did See,
   No Tinsel, No Presents,
   Not Even A Tree.
  
   No Stocking By Mantle,
   Just Boots Filled With Sand,
   On The Wall Hung Pictures
   Of Far Distant Lands.
  
   With Medals And Badges,
   Awards Of All Kinds,
   A Sober Thought
   Came Through My Mind.
  
   For This House Was Different,
   It Was Dark And Dreary,
   I Found The Home Of A Soldier,
   Once I Could See Clearly.
  
   The Soldier Lay Sleeping,
   Silent, Alone,
   Curled Up On The Floor
   In This One Bedroom Home.
  
   The Face Was So Gentle,
   The Room In Such Disorder,
   Not How I Pictured
   A United States Soldier.
  
   Was This The Hero
   Of Whom I’d Just Read?
   Curled Up On A Poncho,
   The Floor For A Bed?
  
   I Realized The Families
   That I Saw This Night,
   Owed Their Lives To These Soldiers
   Who Were Willing To Fight.
  
   Soon Round The World,
   The Children Would Play,
   And Grownups Would Celebrate
   A Bright Christmas Day.
  
   They All Enjoyed Freedom
   Each Month Of The Year,
   Because Of The Soldiers,
   Like The One Lying Here.
  
   I Couldn’t Help Wonder
   How Many Lay Alone,
   On A Cold Christmas Eve
   In A Land Far From Home.
  
   The Very Thought
   Brought A Tear To My Eye,
   I Dropped To My Knees
   And Started To Cry.
  
   The Soldier Awakened
   And I Heard A Rough Voice,
   “Santa Don’t Cry,
   This Life Is My Choice;
  
   I Fight For Freedom,
   I Don’t Ask For More,
   My Life Is My God,
   My Country, My Corps.”
  
   The Soldier Rolled Over
   And Drifted To Sleep,
   I Couldn’t Control It,
   I Continued To Weep.
  
   I Kept Watch For Hours,
   So Silent And Still
   And We Both Shivered
   From The Cold Night’s Chill.
  
   I Didn’t Want To Leave
   On That Cold, Dark, Night,
   This Guardian Of Honor
   So Willing To Fight.
  
   Then The Soldier Rolled Over,
   With A Voice Soft And Pure,
   Whispered, “Carry On Santa,
   It’s Christmas Day, All Is Secure.”
  
   One Look At My Watch,
   And I Knew He Was Right.
   “Merry Christmas My Friend,
   And To All A Good Night.”

May God continue to bless you and yours on this Christmas,

Jaz

Our camp is a maze of small trailers huddled together in neat rows and columns all surrounded with very tall “T” barriers for protection from rocket and mortar attacks.  “T” barriers are simply a thick reinforced concrete wall in the shape of an upside down T.  There are small gaps in these barriers to allow for foot traffic into the various rooms of the trailers and bunkers.  In some cases, the gaps allow for short cuts through the rows and columns.  The mazes of shortcuts all lead to one thing, the latrine and shower trailers.  It makes those midnight runs to the latrine tolerable and a bit quicker than having to run all the way to the end of a row, a few columns over and then back down a whole row.

This sounds a bit silly but trust me when it is cold or raining or you are sick the distance of your trek makes a huge difference.  As long as my walk is now, in pales in comparison to the half-mile or nearly mile journeys I have had to deal with on other deployments.  It really makes you miss the convenience of having a bathroom in your home only a few steps away.  If you think about it, we take that bathroom or bathrooms in our home for granted.  When I am home, I never think twice about where my bathroom is.  I know there is always one within steps of where I am.

Okay, now this is a very odd transition in thought but trust me it ties together in the end.

As many of you know, my wife and I have a special needs daughter.  Normally she is quite healthy and normal in appearance and one would never know her life is precariously balanced.  Something as slight as a common cold could send her into a tailspin leading to a life-threatening situation.  Our daughter has had two life threatening events during my deployments.  We had another very bad one, where we almost lost her, a month before I left for this deployment.  She is very resilient and bounced right back. 

When you have a child like ours, you eventually reach a point of understanding that she may not live a full life and that God may call here home sooner than you may like.  Therefore, we strive to cherish her while she is here with us and give her the best life we can one day at a time. 

Yesterday she had another incident.  It hit me like a sledgehammer.  I begged God not to take my precious child from me, especially when I am here, so far away, and so helpless.  I begged God to put His healing hands on her and for Him not to take her home just yet.  Not now.  Not with my wife having to face it alone and selfishly not when I have to do the same.  My wife is my rock, together we face these events stronger for our daughter’s sake, and together we pray for her healing.  Twice before we had to face this alone and trust me, it is not ever easy but alone is much worse. 

God has once again shed His grace on us and spared our precious gift.  When the incident subsided, I could stop holding my breath and had time to think.  I thought about how much I love our daughter and how I do my best to ensure she has a good and happy life.  I also realized how easy it is to forget her frail state and that she is God’s gift, when she is doing well.  I often forget that at any moment, my wife and I can lose that gift.  Although, sometimes I worry about how empty our lives would be without our daughter.  In the good times, I take God’s gift for granted. 

I wonder how many people take for granted the precious gifts God has provided for us.  Our spouses, our children, our family and friends, our homes no matter how meek, our health, our jobs, etcetera, etcetera, and even the simple things like our bathrooms that are only a few steps away.

This Christmas morning I will take a few moments, while opening gifts, to stop and thank God for his precious gifts in my life and most of all his precious gift of salvation.

Jaz                    

     Dr. Dennis Newman has given me this awesome privilege to share my experiences as a Christian both at war and in the midst of a Muslim country.  I hope to impart my experiences and thoughts with you weekly or as my duties here allow until my return in late spring.  Serving Christ and my country presents unique challenges and experiences that are worth sharing with fellow Christians in hopes of better understanding of the world our military operates within.

     For better understanding, first allow me to share my current situation.  I am the superintendent of an Expeditionary Air Support Operations Squadron and an Air Force Joint Terminal Attack Controller http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terminal_attack_control assigned to Multi National Division-Baghdad, Iraq.  In laymen terms, I am an Air Force guy surrounded by Army guys managing many Air Force guys in the same situation spread throughout the Baghdad area.  In addition, I am a student in pursuit of a future career in Christian Ministry.  Quite a dichotomy if you think about it, thus the very unique perspective.
  
     This week presented a perfect opportunity for me to begin my writings.  The current Army unit I support is swapping out with a newly assigned unit after a very long and arduous deployment.  Part of their tradition involves a memorial ceremony to honor those who have been killed in action during their tenure.  Last night I was honored to attend their ceremony and was struck by what I experienced.

     The memorial ceremony was held in the Division’s make shift chapel, a building about one third the size of Grace Works current sanctuary.  There was standing room only with soldiers including myself crowded all the way into the hallway leading to the foyer.  The audience included men and women of several nations’ militaries.  Christians, Jews, and Muslims paid tribute together in an obvious Christian chapel with an obvious Christian ceremony.  Together they remembered, shed tears, and prayed for their fallen comrades and their families left behind.  Together they read from the scripture and together they stood before God, giving him their sorrow.
 
     As I stood shoulder to shoulder with many men and women from so many backgrounds and so many different faiths, I couldn’t help but to thank God for the serenity we experienced, even if just for a snapshot in time, in his presence.  For here we were, in a nation where religion has become the battle cry for those who wish to tear God’s children from each other, experiencing God’s glory together.

     Things have been very quiet since my arrival here in October.  Some may say boring but I can’t help to think my peaceful existence is a result of the ultimate sacrifice those 466 gave to protect our great nation and a foreign people from tyrannical forces bent on destroying God’s love in this world. 

     Yet God’s love endures.  As I have experienced this week, God’s love crosses cultural and religious boundaries and will always overcome hatred and anger and bitterness.  I have learned that God’s love can heal all if you only open your heart and let it flood in.

Isn’t God great!

Jaz Ericson