Memorial Day is now behind us. Life continues. People are back to work. The joys of summer have officially begun.
I want to share some final thoughts as I reflect on Memorial Day and those who served.
This weekend I saw what I call a B-roll. It was on a program I watch daily. The two-minute video is a tribute to the military and the men and women killed defending the nation.
There was a moment near the end with a video clip, of a young soldier looking at the camera as he was being recorded. It was obviously a piece from Vietnam. The young man, probably 19 or 20 years old, was trying to smile for the camera but he couldn’t. Watching, I could feel what he felt.
I saw the film several times over the weekend. There came a moment when I had tears in my eyes. A man of my generation, doing what he was asked to do. He probably didn’t want to be there, but he was ready to do his duty.
There is a difference between fear, and being scared. I think he was scared. I know about being scared.
I have often wondered about the eternal souls of those killed in war. I wonder if there is a special dispensation for soldiers. Has God found a way for those who do not know Christ, to be saved?
Blessed are the peacemakers, For they shall be called sons of God.
Matthew 5:9 NKJV
Let me tell you a story
I was raised in the Christian Science church. The church was filled with kind, loving people. It included my parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. I know how much they cared about others.
There were nice people in the church. They, however, never explained to me the real Christmas story or the purpose of Easter. I attended Sunday school. I heard interesting stories like Jonah and the whale, and Daniel in the lion’s den. I never heard the Gospel. No one ever explained Christ, His deity, His purpose of offering salvation to any who would believe.
The need for salvation was lost on me.
Listening to Dutch Sheets this morning, I remembered a friend I had in 1964. Danny was a ‘black sheep’ of sorts. I have often wondered if he was the kid depicted in so many movies. In the few months we were together, I never learned where he lived. Only that we went to the same school so he must have lived nearby.
Danny told me he had friends from the town he moved from, but his family had to move. He never told me about his family, only that he wanted to move back where his friends were.
Most of the kids didn’t like Danny. He was different. He was, I suppose, angry.
One day Danny thought it would be a good idea if we joined the Marines. We went to see a recruiter, got all the paperwork, and went home to have our parents sign off. I think I was sixteen.
I never joined the Marines. My parents never signed, I never pushed the issue.
I tell the story to make the point that Vietnam was the war of my generation. I saw a kid my age in a video tribute. Had I joined the Marines, that guy could have been me. Had it been me in Vietnam, I would have been there with no knowledge of Christ. I had never been told.
I don’t know if Danny ever joined the Marines.
I have thought about him from time to time over the past fifty years, but I have never learned what happened to him.
As for me, I joined the Army reserve in 1966 to avoid the draft.
I still wonder what happened to Danny. I still wonder what happened to all those killed that never heard the Gospel. I still wonder about Ross, whose name I found on the wall in Washington when I visited the memorial more than three decades ago.
I cried then, and I think I would cry again if I went.