Sometime after midnight, the Army airborne platoon met for the pre-mission briefing. In moments they would board aircraft in Kandahar for action against insurgents. This particular mission involved working in coordination with an elite commando unit.
At this time in Afghanistan, such missions were carried out every night that there was (1) good weather and (2) good intelligence. This night, they had both.
The paratroopers were to leave first, land a few kilometers from the target, and walk in without being detected to take up strategic positions around the target. Then, when the airborne troopers were in position, the commandos would land right on top of the target to try to capture a certain insurgent leader alive. But they had to be ready for anything.
As was customary for the airborne unit, after the briefing and just before their departure, their chaplain stood before them to read a Bible verse and offer prayer.
He quoted Joshua 1:9—"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go"—and commented briefly on God's continuous presence in all situations, whether acknowledged or not, and then he prayed for the troopers, the mission, and the safety of any civilians that might be in harm's way.
"While soldiers may not be openly religious at other times, they listen intently at moments like this," the chaplain, who asked that his name not be used, would later tell me. "They're at their most spiritually calibrated because they are probably going to be shot at. They did not want to skip this ritual."
After the paratroopers left, the chaplain noticed the elite commando unit boarding vehicles to head to their helicopters for the mission. While he prayed regularly with the paratroopers, he'd not met these guys before.
"They were in full 'battle rattle' and were checking their equipment, body armor, weapons, night vision goggles, and all the rest," said the chaplain. "I asked the master chief if I could have a word of prayer with the team, and he said, 'Sure, just make it quick.' Then he turned to get the latest intel report."
"Chaplain, You deserve a medal! We hadn't prayed before a mission til last night. Sure glad we did!"
"Men, let's gather for prayer," the chaplain said. No one responded. Everyone just continued checking weapons and adjusting communications gear. "Guys, let me pray for you," the chaplain repeated. Again, no response.
"I didn't know anyone in this unit, and they didn't come to any of our Bible studies or services," the chaplain said, but he had not expected this kind of total non-response. He looked over at the master chief, who noticed what was happening and unleashed a profanity-laced tirade: "You @*#%s! Get the @*#% over here so we can have a @*#% prayer so we can get going on this @*#% mission!"
Not a standard call to worship, but it worked. The team quickly gathered, and the chaplain said: "Men, you guys are tough, and you are well-trained. You are as fit as any professional athlete, and as prepared as you can be. You may not think you need God, but you do. So I'm going to pray for you tonight." Then he prayed for the team, for the helicopter pilots, for safety, for the success of the mission, and that no innocent civilians would be hurt.
Then the team loaded up and took off.
The chaplain made his way to the operations center, where he could see the mission unfold on video screens showing thermal image feeds from cameras mounted on a reconnaissance drone.
Fire and Faith
Even before the helicopters reached the target, they came under intense fire. At least 17 rocket propelled grenades (RPG) were fired, and one of them hit a chopper.
"We could see from the video that they were in trouble," the chaplain said. The pilot desperately tried to maintain control as the helicopter was swinging erratically. Amazingly, the RPG had not exploded. If it had, everyone on board would have died instantly. But even a dud penetrating that part of the chopper caused it to lose power. Unable to maintain lift, the chopper was falling.
Those in the operations center saw the helicopter was going down, sideways. Then, at the last second, the pilot managed to right the craft, just in time for a "hard landing." It crashed, but the landing gear, designed to absorb much of the impact, did its job. The chopper bounced and rolled over, coming to rest on its side.
Those in the operations center saw images of personnel crawling out of the wreckage, several of them lying still just a few steps from the wreckage. Incredibly, the team reported that everyone managed to escape the helicopter without serious injury.
The mission was aborted, and a rescue helicopter was ordered to retrieve the team.
As was his custom, the chaplain was there when the teams returned, shortly after sunrise. He offered a word of blessing and a welcome back. The airborne unit, as usual, shook his hand. The commando team, however, was uncharacteristically enthusiastic, hugging him and slapping him on the back. "Chaplain, you deserve a medal!" one said.
"We hadn't prayed prior to a mission before last night," said another, "but I'm sure glad we did!"
Later that day the commando team left for another location.
The next night, shortly after sundown, the chaplain was in the physical fitness room, working out, when a soldier came to tell him he was wanted in the VTC (video teleconferencing center) right away.
"I was in sweaty clothes but hustled over there," the chaplain said. "I assumed someone had been wounded or killed, and my services were needed." But when he got to the VTC, the situation was not what he expected.
On the teleconference screen was the same commando team from the night before, but now they were in a different part of Afghanistan about to head off on a different mission. "They were all kitted up, with weapons and ready to go," said the chaplain, "but before they took off, they wanted me to pray for them by video."
For the rest of that team's tour of duty, a moment of Scripture and prayer became part of their rhythm, and they came to expect the chaplain to be available each night before a mission. In the months that followed, the chaplain ministered to members of that team in a variety of settings, including when there were wounds and deaths. He even officiated months later at a wedding.
Such is the power of presence. In one sense the chaplain didn't do much. But because one person was physically present, available to represent Christ during a dark night in Afghanistan, these military personnel became aware of God's presence then and thereafter.
Presence Done Poorly
Being present to "provide for the free exercise of religion" is the job description of a military chaplain. But even for a chaplain stationed with military personnel, it's possible to avoid the ministry of presence or to do it poorly.
"It's easy to spend all your time preparing Bible studies for the handful of soldiers who show up on their own, but not to be out with the soldiers—whether doing PT (physical training) or carrying a rucksack with them on a march, or just hanging out," said Chaplain (MAJ) David Curlin, who has served in both Afghanistan and Iraq and now serves with Special Forces at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.
Even if a chaplain is physically present, the wrong behavior or attitude can do more harm than good.
"When I was an enlisted man," said Curlin, "we had a chaplain who had the least character I could imagine. He stole food and was the first to jump on the truck to grab a seat, and I thought, Please don't tell me about your faith because you're doing damage to those of us who identify ourselves as Christian."
Chaplain (LTC) Paul Lasley, also with Special Forces at Fort Bragg, remembers an unfortunate incident with a chaplain when he was a company commander in the 101st Airborne.
"Many of the chaplains I met early in my career were friendly enough, but they seemed to be bothered by things that I considered irrelevant. One morning our company was out for a run and calling a cadence that had a swear word or two. A chaplain was running with us, and he came running up to me in front of the whole formation and told me I needed to watch what the cadences were because this was offensive. I said, 'Thank you' and 'sorry' and told the company to resume the march, and they continued with the same cadence as before.
"Perhaps it was offensive, but as a company commander, preventing colorful language wasn't in my top 39 or 40 priorities. And it sure didn't warrant a public scolding."
Fortunately, there are better examples of the ministry of presence.
Presence Done Well
Having a Christ-centered ministry in a pluralistic context, as one chaplain put it, often involves "character, respect, and good manners." That means living the kind of life that serves others, places their interests above your own, and exhibits faith and hope and joy, even in stressful situations.
Chaplain Curlin describes one transformational experience early in his chaplaincy when he was stationed in southern Iraq. A soldier walked into the office, didn't see where he was going, and smacked his shin on a bench.
"He took the Lord's name in vain at full volume," said Curlin. "I'll admit I felt scorn for him, and apparently it showed on my face, because one of his buddies said, 'Oooooh, you swore in front of the chaplain!'
"Almost immediately I realized something was wrong with that picture. I wondered why my reaction had elicited the response it did." So Curlin asked a more experienced chaplain about it, who said, "How much more powerful would it have been if you'd been the first one to speak and said something like, 'Hey, are you okay? That's gotta hurt. Can I help you?'
"I knew immediately that he was right. I didn't want to be known more as a language cop than for my compassion. My job as a chaplain isn't to be the enforcer of righteousness—there may be times to address what comes out of the mouth, but it's probably not the first thing to address. My first job is to care for people. The Holy Spirit told me then, 'You aren't even praying for these people. Love them first, then point them to the One who loves them more than they know.'"
That's where the ministry of presence leads.
Chaplain Lasley points out that the ministry of presence is the means, not the end.
"If they don't want you around, it might be a reflection on you or on your beliefs, but your ministry is limited. If you can be present in a way that's welcome, it leads to opportunities when people want you to speak the gospel and invite them to Christ."
By doing presence well, those representing Christ find themselves in situations when they are welcome to speak the words of eternal life.
Marshall Shelley is editor in chief of Leadership Journal.
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