Concerning The Reality of God's Love in the World

I make it no secret that my faith in the Christian religion was shattered almost fully while I was away at war in Iraq. The experiences I was subjected to as a soldier, both physically and spiritually, caused me to turn and face myself in the most naked state possible - total honesty. I had to come to terms with the reality that the God whom the Christians champion as their Lord had not been manifested to me.

The Chief of Chaplains of the US Army Chaplain Corps held a prayer breakfast on my Forward Operating Base while I was in Iraq. At that time I was already almost spiritually destitute, but I had been asked by some of the senior chaplains to give the official prayer for the service’s opening. I agreed, more on duty than on belief. At this same time, I had become alienated from my own unit Chaplain and supervisor, due to several situations in which he had falsely (in my opinion) painted me as a blackguard before the leadership. I fully distrusted him, and knew that he continually sought ill will against me.

The morning of the prayer breakfast, I headed toward the dining facility about eight o’clock in the morning. I had been told to be there by 0830 from the other chaplain leadership. Well, as I walked in the door, my Chaplain rushed up to me, foaming at the mouth, and purple with rage. He is Chinese, and his native tongue is Mandarin, so he doesn’t speak very clear or coherent English even when he is concentrating, but in such a fury he was impossible to understand. I was able to infer enough from his furious incantation that I was somehow late and that he had told all the leadership yet again that I had failed, as well as recommending to the other chaplains that if I showed up to not let me pray.

I walked over to the other chaplains, and calmly explained that I had been told to be there at 0830. They informed me that 0830 was actually the start time of the breakfast, but they had been running late due to other factors, so I had made it just in time. They unanimously accepted my apology and insisted I lead the opening prayer. And so, when my time was due, I stepped to the podium, asked the mess hall to bow with me in prayer, and I prayed. I did so with open eyes, and I could see my Chaplain sitting about midway up the tables, writhing in anger and plotting my downfall. After that prayer breakfast he would spend the rest of the day slandering my name to the platoon sergeants, squad leaders, and fellow brass. Knowing that all this was to come, I decided vindictively to attack him in the only way I knew how - succeeding despite his foolish attempts. So, a veteran of many church services and prayer gatherings, I prayed a sensational and moving prayer. I brought down blessing on the place, and even the neighboring halls the regular diners, not formally participating in the spiritual breakfast, had fallen silent. I spoke of God’s promises, of His love, and I spoke of how we should treat each other with such unconditional love. When I finished, there was a resounding Amen throughout the mess hall. Afterwards, the Chief liked my prayer so much he gave me an award for excellence. People came up to me and spoke of how they could see the strength of my faith, the movement of God, the anointing of the Holy Spirit on my life. They said that they could see God working through me, and that the Holy Spirit had given me the words of my prayer. I smiled at them and said nothing.

Because the irony was that nothing of the sort had happened. Unbeknownst to those people, I was much an apostate. There was hidden contempt in my prayer, for there is no one on this earth I have ever despised more than that Chaplain. While certainly I won’t say I hated him, for I am not even sure my small being is truly capable of actual hate, nor am I sure there is anyone of this world that deserves to be hated, I certainly detested this man and his false air of piousness. When I prayed that prayer, there was only one goal in it that fueled its fervor - spite. I was praying that I might challenge the falsehoods of my enemy. He had told the leadership at that breakfast that I was a faithless, worthless soldier (this is after 6 months of unwavering devotion to him), and so I took it upon myself to triumph over him by in one single prayer reversing all the deception he had sown. And it worked, so much to the point that suddenly, as a heretic I was convicting people of the Holy Spirit. The truth is I am just an eloquent speaker. I am quite certain that God had nothing to do with that prayer. But even if he did, that is not where the revelation lies.

These people saw the Holy Spirit, God’s love, in me, because of this prayer. They heard its words and said, "Only a true man of faith could have prayed such a prayer." When in truth I am anything but! They associated God with me and my words, when they were wrong to do so. And I realized then how casually we give God credit for things. We blithely say, "Well, it is God’s will in my life that I..." But is it? Or, like all those chaplains and spiritual leaders who congratulated me on my faith, are we giving God credit for things that he is not doing? David Koresh gave God credit for telling him to lead the Branch Davidians at Mt. Carmel in what would become one of the most devastating religious tragedies ever. Fred Phelps gives God credit for leading him to condemn the families of fallen soldiers and picket their funerals. Pope Urban II gave God credit for endorsing and desiring the Crusades which led to the persecution and deaths of thousands of people. Peter Binsfeld gave God credit for giving him the means with which to discern witches and have them put to death. And these chaplains gave God credit for leading me in a most unholy and heartless prayer. "Michael, your heart was evident in that prayer." Oh ye that are blind!

I admit my actions, of giving a false prayer for mostly selfish reasons, were wrong. I am not proud of what I did, but I looked out into that crowd, and saw the same hypocrisy I was committing. And so if God is not really behind the many things we give him credit for, are we right to say we must love God in those ways? I think that is foolish. I know God’s love not through complex religion but through the assurances of the world that have not betrayed me - the beauty of the sunset, the song of a bird, the flit of a butterfly that has landed upon my shoulder. These beautiful things speak of creation, and her Creator. And so I love these things as the real breathe of God. The psalmist writes that the Lord says, "Be still and know that I am God." God doesn’t speak in the chaos of a Thursday night revival with people whooping and babbling in incoherent languages. He speaks in the small whispers of a gurgling brook as it traces its way through a forest to some distant river. So why must I love God through religious acts and symbolism? Jesus, quoting Moses, said that I should do it with all my heart, soul and mind. So wouldn’t that be all of me, my whole life? That I should love God in how I live my life? I believe in love, as much as I believe in evil in the world. I believe there is a God of love, but my experience has shown me that he speaks to our souls in simplicity, and that the rest that has been credited to him has been the misguided association of the "spiritualists" and "fundamentalists" that are so certain that God has chosen them for special revelation. If God truly loves us all, wouldn’t it make more sense for him to speak in a way that everyone can understand?