Cradle to the grave - Servers needed

Because of my time in Iraq my sense of call has always been focused on military chaplaincy. I won’t rehash my call story because it is lengthy, complicated, and many of you may have already heard it before. The readers digest version is that I had a great Chaplain who came to me in a time of need. After months of combat operations, he came to me during a tense mission and shared the Eucharist with my platoon and I at great risk to himself. It was a time of violent, not sure I am gonna come out of this okay kind of need. I did come out okay and I give credit to chaps, not because he did anything magical but that in his sharing of the sacrament it gave me the focus and certainty to do my job. I wasn’t scared to die, not because I was brave but because I knew I was loved. That experience made me reconsider my childhood vow (the one many boys make) to not do what Dad did for a living or vocation. I knew I was called to chaplaincy. 

Yesterday I mulled over that call while talking with my kids on Skype. I love my children, all of them. They are by far the most precious gifts in my life. I love teasing them, wrestling with them, and laughing with them. I remember on my daughter’s birthday this past year she contracted a stomach virus. As most families can attest to, those bugs go through a household like wildfire.  She awoke in the middle of the night after making a mess (no details necessary). In the wee hours of the morning I gave her a hot bath, stripped the bed, remade the bed, grabbed my iPad (so she could watch cartoons), remade the bed, and then we laid in bed together. I was awoken sporadically as she became nauseated throughout the night and she would snuggle tightly watching cartoons on a loop. I knew I would also be sick shortly. My wife (pregnant at the time), my youngest daughter, and even my father-in-law (who was gracious enough to help us at this time) all fell ill shortly after. Looking back on that night when this miserable stomach bug struck our family, however, may be one of the most wonderful memories I have of my oldest to date. It was wonderful because she needed me and my love for her was precious to her. My love may have been as precious to her in her time of need as she is to me when she smiles at me everyday. My heart ached for her suffering but the solace she took in my caring felt like a true expression and understanding of the extent of my love for her. 

I preface my explanation with that story because it helped me understand how deeply I love my daughter at 3 am on what should be the worst of days. I do not believe my love for my child exceeds that of any other parent, but I am certain many other parents can understand and share a comparable story. This trip to Israel is the longest time as well as distance I have been from my children. Last night I went to the lobby to talk with my wife, mother-in-law, and my daughters (my son of course, cannot communicate yet). For the past few nights my youngest gets frustrated and upset as she kisses and hugs the screen of my wife’s device. At one point she even looked behind it. She almost seems angry with the mirage of a physical presence through modern technology. She almost seems angry with me for not being there. My oldest went to school yesterday and cried when my wife left her. This was a shocking surprise to me because my wife and I jest that she has always been the queen of the hive at school. She loves school, she loves her friends, she loves her teachers, and she seldom gives us so much as a second glance when we drop her off, much less a hug. Yesterday she cried, however, and when she cried and her teachers attempted to console her she told them she missed Daddy. My wife told me about it and then my daughter confessed that she had indeed cried at school over my absence. It has been a tough almost two weeks for them and I will admit, I do miss my family. 

At these times Jesus seems a bit insensitive. Calling disciples to cast aside their possessions is okay but family? Call me a bit of a pansy but after almost two weeks I really miss my family. When I served overseas I didn’t have children yet and although we were dating, my wife and I were not married. Now things are a little more difficult. On top of it all, the majority of the disciples, whose occupations we know of, were fishermen. Big whoop! What are they giving up?! I gave up 9 years in the same vocation with a mortgage and a family! I followed a sense of call in a ministry that could take me away from home and into harms way, again! I gave up a sense of security for a sense of uncertainty, dependent on the approval of a committee and the hopes I will enter back into the military without delay or error! What’d Peter give up?! Fishy smelling hands!?

I think it’s how we all read the story. Bunch of dirt bag fishermen hanging out with Jesus call in sick the next morning and then they duck out of town to hang out with the unclean (prostitutes, gentiles, tax collectors, etc) folk. They get a chance to hang out with a guy who won't even let a wedding run dry (in reference to a previous post; I like to picture a Jesus who is formal but likes to party). Sounds more like a cool hangout than a devoted following and calling. 

Yesterday and today I got a chance to see what these guys gave up. The sea of Galilee and the surrounding towns are beautiful and the ruins attest to the successful business of the region. These guys weren't pulling on coveralls and dropping crab pots (I’m not knocking modern fishermen, that work is tough) these guys were running the business. I have no idea what Peter’s work ethic was but he had two homes, one at Capernaum and one at Bethsaida. Even the ruins appear comfortable if not slightly lavish for that day and age (I am just judging by the outline of the foundations ruins). The home in Capernaum was most likely a home shared with family and perhaps a center for business and trade. These “fisherman” did have their own fleet of vessels and a payroll for their workers. So they in fact gave up quite a great deal. Successful business, homes, family, and a livelihood that they not only knew but was probably passed down to them. But they gave up even more than that, Jesus predicts they will give their own lives. As the story goes Peter does just that, before being hung on an upside down cross his own home at Capernaum becomes a church, one of the first if not the first. 

It made me feel better, in fact it made me feel like I knew perfectly what I was doing. After going for a boat ride on the beautiful sea of Galilee, snapping shots at a countryside that I could only imagine is comparable to Ireland, I not only knew what they gave up but I realized a little piece of what made them who they were. Jesus selected followers who had seen beauty, lived from the land, were bonded to the sea and the soil. Jesus selected these men, snatching them up from their vocations, their land, and their families because they knew what was at stake. The people were hungry and needed to be fed. If Christ was that food someone would need to serve. The people are still hungry, now I just pray God can help me learn how to describe the smell, the taste, and the satisfaction when we receive the bread given for us. The smell, the taste, and the satisfaction of my time in beautiful Galilee has been an 

incredible place to begin. 

      Peace, Shalom, and Salām-