In our current series, Entombed, lofters learned a couple of weeks ago that we’ve “gotta die” for God to move in our lives. Last Sunday, Andy reminded us again that ‘God needs some space in our lives to move’ and challenged us to recall times in our lives that “God did something new in our life.  “Early this week in a tweet, Andy reminded us that we should “enter the story.” Good stuff.

Being the literal, type-A personality Jesus freak I am, I thought about  last Sunday’s talk late into the night. I asked myself a simple question -‘when have I’ve seen Jesus face-to-face?’ (confession: my fav Bible story is the Genesis story of Jacob wrestling with the angel.)

Here’s part of my story…bear with me for some quick context and background.
First, I need to say that I realize that we all have stories to tell; I’ve chosen one meaningful to me.

Also, I realize that many of us may have strong and differing opinions about the military, the proper defense of America and the necessity of or justification for war.  Most of us have some heavy baggage in our past that we don’t often want to think about…don’t we?  But this is life and here’s part of mine…love me anyway.

It was late spring of 1968; I was a world and lifetime away from my comfortable life in a WASPY upper middle class Oklahoma home—it was Sunday, in a place called Vung Tau, South Vietnam. For most of my team in our small U.S. Army airplane company it was our first “free” day off in over 4 months.  We were determined to eat, relax, party and eat some more. (I admit some had other plans)

Our sole task, from a military perspective, was to gather and analyze the Army’s electronic and aerial surveillance intelligence for the ‘middle third’ of the country and along the ‘parrot’s peak’ border with Cambodia. Frankly, we were exhausted, stressed-out and ready for a break from the 12-16 hour shifts we had pulled since late December when the North Vietnamese started massing on the border for what become known as the Tet Offensive in late January, 1968.

I arrived late to the party (don’t I always) and the food was about half gone. I grabbed my grilled medium rare 22 oz. steak and big baker with one hand and a half-pound burger with the other. I found an empty seat to chow down and relax a little.

After a couple of minutes, I heard rummaging in back of me and turned to see what was up. I saw a small boy (maybe 3-4 years of age) with a half-eaten and discarded baked potato in his hand.  I looked over and saw his brother and mom standing a few feet away.

I saw Jesus that day in that little boy; I saw what is called the ‘least’ face-to-face…and my life was changed.

My–in many ways sheltered comfortable and cozy–self as a young 20-something  ’American outsider’ had not faced (seen) the ‘least’ this close up very often before. I finally started to learn that life was not just about “me.” (that…friends, is hard for me to say)

The good news is that a number of us responded. We fed and loved on the mom and kids for about an hour. We raided the frigs in the mess hall and gave them some more food to take home; finally, we drove them off the base.  Hey, we even continued to see them from time-to-time—and yes, they always had big smiles on their faces.

Part II of my story takes place 23 years later and will be told in my Scribbles blog early next week. I’m certain that many of you have better stories…I’d love for you to share them with me sometime. Lofters are called to be disciples who enter the story and be part of the story— not just observe or listen about  Kingdom adventures.

Here’s the deal guys. Andy’s right; we’ve got stuff to put to death, if we want God to move and do something new in and through us—then and now.

More later. East-out.

P.S. – Over 40 years later, I still have a couple of pictures of that day….in print and certainly in my fading mind.

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