Fallen
(Warning Graphic Material)
The world can be a dark place, and sometimes we fall. The men we are shaped by our past. We bleed green, we fight to protect those around us. We fight because we must, because we draw breath. We live to honor our brothers who didn’t. We are trained to carry on in the fight. We are trained to survive and we are trained to push down the pain, to see the next step at all costs. We train for war, we train to live, we train to kill, but most of all we are trained to protect our brothers and sisters of our country.
When the fight is over and we return home for some the fight never quits. We struggle to connect. My fight is no longer the enemy of flesh and blood, but the enemy of darkness. In the last year I have found it harder and harder to connect with people. Not for a lack of trying on my part, I just haven’t had very many connect with me. I’ve struggled to make and keep friends this year. I’ve watched as old friends have moved on, and for reasons unknown have decided I was no longer needed in their life. As this unfortunately feeds into my deepest fear, that of abandonment, it also fuels the darkness that nearly overtook me just over a year ago.
When the world seems darkest and when it appears to be no hope, that’s when one enters dangerous waters. The whispers and lies that wade around the ankles of unsuspecting waders in the waters ready to drag you under. When one bad thing happens after another, it’s easier and easier to get pulled into the muck. When everything you hold most dear falls away how can one survive so much pain? How can someone survive the worst terrors of mankind, loose ones family, and believe there may still be hope? It’s simple, the Devil whispers lies in our ears and sometimes it gets the better of us. Sometimes it takes hold, and what once seemed like an unthinkable response seems to be the most reasonable. The perfect storm that leads us down the dark path, and sadly, a fallen one.
Can you imagine yourself in the mists of loosing everything you cherished most in life? As I watched my life falling apart I couldn’t breath. The life I was living didn’t seem like my own any longer. The air seemed to be sucked from my very lungs. The crushing feeling in my chest as it fell apart. The woman I loved and the family I thought had accepted me for so long in fact, only kept me around because of my wife, who at that very moment was packing to leave. A second time I watched as my wife would leave me. Two marriages, two affairs, and two divorces, and the second time sadly would be more then I could take. As I watched the packing and moving I saw myself as an entire failure. My ability to see reason, to think rationally had been dangerously compromised. A dangerous and unfortunate turn of events that would cause my personal battles to no longer stay hidden, stay buried as they once were. The crashing waves crushed my spirit, the breaking of the dam that would allow the dirty laundry that remained safely tucked away, to flood every inch of what I protected most. The burier that had been built carefully over many years of constant vigilance would be destroyed and years of built up pain, of every wrong step, of every trauma, every set back, every mistake, and every loss would rush down upon me like a tsunami that would be stopped by nothing. A whirlwind of nothing but negative feelings sucked the hope and the things we fight for to stay alive every day, out of my chest, my heartbeat, but hollow. I couldn’t reconcile my failure, my loss, my hopelessness, so it seemed as if there were only one thing to do.
Not every action taken is thought out. Not every action taken offers the comfort or the desired outcome we hope for. Sometimes the mind plays tricks on us, and in times of great stress, great sorrow, those tricks can be equal to the level of pain. Isn’t pain an interesting thing? How we grieve for the loss of a beloved pet. How we feel badly when our favorite TV show ends. How we feel when a best friend parts ways for the last time. Or how we grieve when we loose the ones we love most dearly. There are all manner of ways we grieve but sometimes that grief is so powerful it literally takes hold and we cannot bear to take one more step, take one more breath, and we honestly forget how. How that grief can feel when it’s a lifetime of loss, and how the grief turns to pain that cannot be reconciled. Now what do you do with that pain when you are alone? How do you channel the thoughts from the Devil when there’s no one there to reach out too? Pain can be a powerful motivator, pain of a physical nature, the odd satisfaction of physical pain. Some people use this pain by getting tattoos, they use it to handle the stress of life, the dealing of hard times. People also use another form of pain as a self regulated therapy and that’s cutting. The act of cutting one’s self and using that pain as a release, the endorphins created to mask the physical pain is a drug in the brain that allows a sense of calm. Cutting while frowned upon is actually widely used by young adults and adolescence. Years ago there was another form of pain used by Priests to be used a form of punishment for sin. Self-flagellation, this practice largely used within the Catholic Church ended in the 14th century. It is still used today in some extent. What would you do if the pain inside was more then you could bare? What would you do if the trauma you suffered was a lifetime’s worth all at once?
It’s a strange thing looking back at ones life in an instant. The term seeing your life flashed before your eyes isn’t so farfetched. For some they get flashes of happy times, of loved ones, of things they cared for in life. But what if in that moment, that split second, failure, self loathing, self disgust was all you saw? What if what you saw in the blink of an eye was that you were what was wrong with your life? How would you feel? While I don’t begrudge my wife for leaving, she did what she felt was best for her, I will ever hold love in my heart for her. I have tried to remain faithful to the feelings of forgiveness, understanding, and above all love. She will forever hold a special place in my heart, and even if she may never be a part of my life anymore, I will love her always.
I failed once, the poorly executed plan, I didn’t even check to see if the stupid thing was loaded. Standing on the back porch, a deep breath, and squeezing the trigger while standing on the stairs, the hammer fell, but no bullet. Screaming how much of a failure I was I threw the gun across the yard. I went cursing at myself on the way to pick it up. There my sister in law, not sure what she just saw, I handed her the gun and told her to hold onto that. I stormed back in the house, went to the bedroom and grabbed the black Smith & Wesson 9mm that was loaded, and I stormed out to the front porch. This time I sat down and watched as my wife finished packing the car. She was leaving, and I knew she’d be gone for good. I told her I was sorry for everything, and that she should just pretend like none of it ever happened. I don’t recall if she actually said anything, but she walked out of sight. I was alone, in that no one was within line of sight of me, and that was the moment. I put the pistol to my shoulder, looked at it, and with just a flicker of hesitation, squeezed the trigger. The round ripped through the flesh, the blood splattered out onto my hand and the gun. Everything I saw was dark, hopeless, endless amounts of pain, and I deserved to suffer in physical pain equal to that of my emotional pain because I was the common denominator, I was the center of it all, and I must have been at fault, so therefore, I must be the one to suffer and be punished for my failings. The air left my lungs quickly. The scream from my wife would be etched into my memory like a diamond etching into stone, forever leaving it’s mark. I reached up to hold the hole in my shoulder, but something went wrong, something wasn’t right. Everything was going black, it was supposed to just go straight through, I didn’t understand. I felt someone grab me, but blackness covered my eyes. I no longer heard anything, I was no longer in the world.
Seconds turned to hours as I remained in the world of black. A lifetime in nothingness, no thoughts, no fears, no hopes, nothing at all that connected me to the world of the living. That’s when I heard myself say it, “God I’m sorry!” I never expected to hear a response, but what I heard couldn’t be explained by reason or logic. The booming nature was like a shaking thunder reverberating all over my body, down into the very cells of what I was made up of. My ears pounded with the shaking of the words I was able to make out and understand perfectly even as loud and thunderous as it was. “You’re forgiven!” The jolt forced my eyes open and I could see someone above me. The pain shot through my back and my shoulder, the shooting through my body with each and every breath. “No, let me go, let me die!” I begged the paramedics. They refused, but it was to their surprise I woke up at all. The amount of time I was unconscious was about 30 minutes. Second hand information I would find out later the amount of blood loss should have killed me. I would end up loosing around 6 units of blood out of the average 8. The paramedics fought to keep me alive, and every time I would try to close my eyes, to go back to the blissful darkness, they would bring me back, sternum rubs, tapping me, anything they could to keep me with them. The only thing I actually said that made any sense was to take me to the VA, which they responded almost jokingly, they couldn’t because they weren’t equipped for it, and if they did I’d die. At the time, it didn’t sound so bad. Death wasn’t my intention, but the thought of dying seemed okay.
The thing with not thinking clearly, and being overcome by grief and pain, is the cause and effect of such actions. The bullet didn’t travel straight through, instead it chipped the clavicle, and went down through the left lung, leaving a large 9mm hole and particles of the bullet, before traveling onto the 2nd, 3rd, and 7th ribs before exiting my lower shoulder blade. I apparently pulled the trigger and jumped and the gun was too high. Not that, that’s any kind of good excuse, what I did was beyond reckless, beyond stupid, it was as it turns out, irredeemable in the eyes of some, but not to the Lord.
Here’s the trouble in a nutshell. There are always consequences to poor decisions. In the wake of such a choice, I watched as countless friends jumped ship and swam away as fast as they could. My love of firearms would end as my privileges would be revoked, and every firearm I had sold. I would loose my position at my job, a job I had worked very hard to get. I would loose the respect of those around me, and with the respect, I would loose any and all credibility I had. I would forever have shoulder pain, and troubles with the lung from the shrapnel left behind. Any chance I may have had with my wife vanished with the shot and the scream. I would undergo over a year of therapy, and even with that, more to come. I would eventually loose my job, and my career, and as more and more friends left, the full ramifications would come, and I would once again be standing cross in hand as I would be forced to bare the pain.
Over a year later, I have watched as the majority of my closest friends and allies would leave. I would be left with no direction, no sense of earthly worth, and a seemingly bleak future. Less then a year after the gunshot I would suffer a major neck injury and would require emergency fusion surgery. With the severe rupture of the C5 disc, the possibility of infection became more likely with every passing day, and although I would avoid infection, the lasting affect would cost me my job, and my plans for the future. From all standards of living, the outcome looks bleak. The hits never stopped coming, the wins were few, and the losses were many. How does one overcome such adversity?
2 Corinthians 4:8-9 “8 [We are] troubled on every side, yet not distressed; [we are] perplexed, but not in despair; 9 Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;”
A part of me died that day on those stairs. What I heard that day is why I came back, and no matter how dark it gets, how much it hurts, how far you fall, we can remember only one thing, God loves us. I was a soldier, and I swore an oath to never quit, never surrender, and until the day comes when the Good Lord calls me home, we can never fall so far that we can’t pick ourselves up. While we will always have our bad days, and no matter the struggles we may face, we have to keep picking ourselves up. If anything can come from such a tragic year, perhaps my story can touch the life of someone struggling. Hero’s are not born, but made. The hero’s in my life are the men and women of the 2nd ID combat team that served with me in Iraq and found the need to be at a brothers side. The loving support of my pastors, and the brave first responders that fought diligently to keep me alive is in part why I fight. I would have my brothers and sisters standing with me fighting, and because they fight for me, I shall always fight. No matter how dark the days, no matter how far I fall, I shall learn how to crawl again, I will learn how to walk, and I will one day learn how to soar above the clouds. I shall never quit because God didn’t quit on me. I shall never fall without knowing God is with me to help me. Yes apart of me died that day, but I also lived. The struggle shall always stay with me, and the ramifications of what’s left in the wake of disaster will perhaps take years to repair, but I shall continue to fight and try. While on this very day I have no idea where my life is going, what I will do, where I will live, how I will survive, if I’ll ever find love again, if I’ll ever be accepted, if I’ll ever make new friends to replace those who’ve left, what I do know, is it’s in God’s capable hands.
Having faith in the middle of the storm is hard. Being able to close your eyes and trust in the leap, knowing that God will catch you, that’s faith. We worry because we are human. We question because we are inflicted with sin nature. We survive because we have God. We thrive because we know Jesus. We all stumble, we all fall, but we cannot learn without it. We will never be perfect in this world, and if there’s anything I hope more then anything in this world, is to not be judged for a moment of weakness for the rest of my life. I don’t know why my friends jumped ship afterwards. I don’t know why I was made to suffer through all I have. I don’t have the answers, and while I still breath on this world, perhaps I never will.
I know I let my brothers and sisters down with my weakness, but I know I have an obligation to live, and to never forget, to spread the word of the Lord, and fight to help those who suffer. We will suffer at the hands of the Devil, we will suffer at the hands of man as it was foretold by Christ. 2 Timothy 3:12 “Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution.” Forever will the scar remain on my chest a reminder of the fall of man, and the momentary triumphs of the Devil. I will forever have a scar to remind me of the fight we fight every day. A scar from the battles that are waged in the shadows and we are pawns in a larger picture. We are the soldiers in which the war is waged for souls on this worldly plane. No one ever said you’d make it through life without scars. No one ever said it would be easy. 1 Peter 4:16 “Yet if any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed; but let him glorify God on this behalf.” As Job before me, suffering is not new under the sun. The suffering of man, testing ones resolve, forging steel, and pushing one to their limits, all comes with the territory of picking up the cross and following Jesus.
No one ever said the cross wouldn’t be heavy, and no one ever said it didn’t come at a cost, but what cost could we ever pay to be worthy of the gift of Heaven? Jesus paid the price and a little suffering now, or in some cases, a lot of suffering now, will be worth it when we sit with Jesus in paradise for all eternity.
When my day comes I hope to regain some of my dignity and self-respect I left on those stairs. I fell, and fell harder then I ever imagined I could have. I have lived with the knowledge of my fallen spirit, and I face the battle to redemption every day. But I say to you, it’s not if we fall, but how we pick ourselves up. So if you’ve fallen pick yourself up, dust yourself off and carry on. There will be dark days ahead, and even the most faithful will be put to the test. When your day comes and you’re facing your last breath, a hope for you is this, may it be of peace and at a time of God’s own choosing. Breathe until the Lord calls you home. Raise no hand to your enemies, instead raise open arms. Bring no harm upon yourself, instead remember that you are a child of the one true King and God loves you despite your faults. God’s love is pure and everlasting. When the days last number comes and you go home, remember 2 Timothy 4:6-8 “For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing”
I was a soldier once for this country, now I’m a soldier for Christ. The days are long, and we may grow weary, but eternity is longer, and it’s worth the wait.
The crisp morning air and sun shines down on the empty streets of Ar-Ramadi. The mission starts led by my primary truck. I am the second truck in the convoy and the mission is simple, the scouts provide the quick reaction force in congruence with the Marines that would be doing the door to door raids of several blocks of apartment buildings. While the mission seemed simple the fact is the mission didn’t go according to the plan. Crossing the bridge over the Euphrates River the city looked abandoned. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and as we made the right turn at the fork. The sound came over the radio “IED IED IED!” I saw it, and blew past. The procedure was go out 100 meters, create a perimeter and let the guys in EOD do their thing. Before we made it to the 100 meter mark the truck in front of me disappeared in two massive explosions and smoke, dust, sand, and shrapnel flew into the air causing the road beyond to vanish from sight. From what I knew it looked like the truck had been destroyed. It was at that moment the bullet hit my door and the following moments slowed down. The screams from within the truck of orders and commands, information of targets, directions of travel, and the sounds of gun fire from both overhead and in the distance being directed towards the two trucks.
The Arrow Preacher 