War Stories (pt. 2)

We were drilling one hot summer day in late August of 1949 on our drill field in front of our barracks.  We were in small columns, going through all the commands.  We were doing just fine until 3 young Caucasian ladies dressed in tight t-shirts and short shorts riding bicycles right past us.  Those giving the commands were watching the girls, forgetting their columns.  So we just kept marching; of course were looking at the girls too.  There were columns all over the field – colliding into one another, rifles dropping, helmets falling off, men banging into one another; complete chaos!  It wasn’t just a few columns, it was all of them.  It was so funny, that even our officers were bending over laughing.  It looked like the Keystone Cops in the old silent movies.  Real togetherness!

This is part of our history.  I wish it never happened, but it did.  Five of us would eat out nearly every night.  We would go about five towns in the opposite direction of Tokyo, because all the other GI’s went there.  It would be nice and quiet and gave us a chance to sit back and talk.  We always left camp around 4:30.  This particular day I didn’t go because I was on prison chaser at our camp stockade and didn’t get off duty until 6:00 that evening.  The next morning I got a terrible shock.  The four men, Frank Camper, Jessie Mereman, Clarence Peters, and Sgt. Taylor had just walked through the gate into our camp.  They were in the curve of the road and being foggy, an MP jeep plowed into them.  The jeep was going too fast for conditions and was on the wrong side of the road.  It killed Frank Camper and killed Jessie Mereman.  Sgt. Taylor and Clarence Peters both got knocked down and bruised.  The army court marshaled the MP and he was sent away.  The next 2 weeks were terrible.  No matter where our Co. marched; every time we saw an MP jeep, we broke ranks and ran to the side of the road yelling, look out it’s the MP’s.  They’ll run you down!  No matter how many we saw in a day, we did the same dumb thing.  After about 2 weeks of this Col. Clainos came to our mess hall and took off his silver leaf from his collar and said he wanted to talk man to man.  He told us he had real good MP’s, but they were putting transfers to other outfits and he didn’t want to loose them because of one man’s mistake.  We all stood up and applauded him, and never again did we do it!  It did show our Co. was willing to stick together even when we were wrong.

On maneuvers at Mount Fuji, we were called out for formation.  Our Co. CO. chewed us out for not having haircuts.  He gave us 2 hrs. to get it done and have another formation to be checked out.  Back in our 9 men tents we got busy clipping hair.  Someone came up with the idea of a mohawk, so we did, all of us.  Our Captain had us uncover at the next formation.  Boy, was he made.  We had to wear steel helmets the rest of the time we were there.

We were pre-warned that by no means can anyone leave camp while on maneuvers.  If we got caught it would be 6 months at the Big Eight Stockade.  Eight weeks was the most we could handle – we still had 2 weeks to go, so we all snuck out of camp... – 5 miles to town.  The MP’s brought us back into camp by the truckload.  The next day we got chewed out for not taking the Co. flag.  Again it was 100% participation!

There was no doubt in my mind that B troop would fulfill all the duties that would be expected of them in Korea.

to be continued...

Why do we call Good Friday good?

Palm Sunday is exciting – if even for just a moment, God’s people got it: Jesus is King of kings and Lord of lords!  Easter is thrilling – because the grave could not contain Jesus, we know that we too will experience his victory over death!  Sandwiched between these days of celebration is a Friday affixed to a seemingly misappropriated adjective, good.  “Black” Friday would fit well (Matt 27:45).  But, “Black Friday” is the name reserved for the day after Thanksgiving, a day that should be good.  “Good Friday” is the title we reserve for that day in history when the only righteous man who ever lived died for crimes he never committed.  Why do we call that day “good?”

As Christians we know the answer.  We call it good because the crimes (sins) that required Jesus’ death belonged to you and me.  I say “belonged” rather than “belong” because, in Christ, they are no longer ours.  “[A]s far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12).  In this beautiful psalm, David is believing what God would do one day in Christ, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21).  Like a scarlet letter or a spot of cancer our sin was removed, with all due fear and shame attached to it, to be remembered no longer.  On the Cross, Jesus Christ absorbed all the wrath due me (Romans 3:25), He purchased (ransomed) you from the slave market of sin (1 Corinthians 6:19-20), He nullified the just and guilty verdict against sinners (Romans 3:26), and He reconciled us into true familial community with God (Romans 8:14-17)!  This was indeed a good day!

Let us not forget that God’s motive behind all of this was his unfathomable love for us.  The geography of Psalm 103:12 would be true because of the dimensions of the previous verse, “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him” (Psalm 103:11).  We call Good Friday “good” because we see the full outpouring of God’s love for needy sinners.  We call Good Friday “good” because on that day the Father, for a moment, turned his back on his Son, so that for eternity he could turn his face toward us.

Everything changed on Good Friday, and what happened that day continues to change everything for those who find themselves here: “But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God” (John 1:12).  Do you believe?  Have you received what God offers?  Are you his child?  Good Friday beckons all who will hear the gracious invitation.

War Stories (pt. 1)

B Troop - 1949

by Richard Keith Dowell

There had been some talk about our troops in the Korean War were not combat ready.  I believe they were talking about strength, not ability or willingness.  At the outbreak of the war June 25, 1950, the 1st Cav. Div. could muster up only 11,000 men being 1/3 understrength.  Missing our 3rd Battalions in each of our 3 Regiments and 3rd Battalions in our 4 artillery Battalions.  Never-the-less, let me tell you the enthusiasm of B Troop, 1st Battalion, 7th Cav. Regt. Station at Camp Drake, 18 miles from Tokyo, Japan (Occupation troops).  We were what you might call advanced combat training Unit.  We had all the basics, but trained in much greater detail.  We would work out battles on a sand table, then put it into practice on the field, by squads, platoons and Co.  We would have sham battles with other Cos., night fighting and commando raids.  We fired all small arms weapons, learned som judo, and hand to hand combat practice.  We pulled guard duty throughout the camp, gate guard, prison guard and taking prisoners on work details.

Every Thursday we had a 30 mile full field pack forced march.  It was 15 miles up and 15 miles back.  We would be back to camp by 2pm for lunch.  Every morning started with calisthenics and once a week the Btn. got together and did them with our rifles.  We called it the Clainos Boogie, after Battalion Commander.

Twice in one year and a half we went to Mount Fuji on maneuvers which was the best training we could have had.

When I entered B troop we had a first Sgt. that could make a good day bad, and a bad day worse.  He was a frustrated exboxer, built like Lil Abner and wanted to whip anyone and everyone.  It would start the same way every morning.  We would fall out for formation.  Standing at attention, our 1st Sgt. would ask if anyone thought if they could whip him.  If so, step out.  Of course no one would.  That gave me confidence in our Co.  At least we didn't have any dummies in our troop.  We did have a light weight boxer, a little Mexican boy.  He hated the 1st Sgt. even more than the rest of us.

In the summer of 1949, our Battalion went to Mount Fuji.  One day while in the field, the two boxers got into an argument.  The little Mexican got real mad, put his bayonet on his rifle and went after our 1st Sgt.  The Sgt., being much bigger, stronger, and knowing combat tactics  took the rifle away from him, slapped him around a little and let it go at that.  But when he went to climb into his sack, there laid a dud mortar round, which could go off at any moment.  It was reported to the higher ranks.  The next morning both men were shipped out and in different directions.  We never saw either one again.

Our next 1st Sgt. was a real swell guy.  Everyone liked him.  He was just a little fellow and knew the reputation of our previous 1st Sgt.  Every morning at reveille, after the morning report, he would ask if anyone thought they could whip him to step forward, but before anyone had a chance to he'd give us right face, forward march, then laugh.  Of course we were all laughing too.

Coming back to camp from field work we would route step until we were outside of camp, then to attention, full step and sing Cadence   We had a man named Polippovich, who had a deep clear voice.  He would drop back to the center of the Co. and sing every army song their was.  The civilians that worked in the offices would yell out B troop was coming in and they would all run down and line up on the side walks to watch and listen to our songs.  I don't care how tired you would be, singing really picked us up and gave us a feeling of pride.

to be continued...

An Example Worth Following

This is a photo of my grandparents and my oldest son, Joel.  This would be the only time any of my boys will meet him in this life.  That's O.K.  We'll have all of eternity to catch up.  I remember my dad and grandad talking about how much fun I'll have when I meet my great-grandpa Dowell.  I get to pass those anticipations on to my kids about their great-grandpa.  They can hear his stories one day, while sitting in the shade of his fabled "prime rib tree" in heaven.

Grandpa was a colorful character.  The bobcat prominently displayed in the above photo provides as good a story as any to describe him.  On a leisurely drive through the backroads of SW Kansas Grandpa spotted a pair of eyes in the fence row.  Having a handicapped hunting permit he hobbled out of the van packing a .357 magnum.  He was so old and so sick he had to coordinate the shot with the shakiness of his hand.  The bullet went in an eye and came out the ear, leaving a flawless corpse, just begging for a taxidermist.  Seal Team 6 move over, that is how Grandpa did business.  He truly was larger than life.

This isn't Veteran's Day, Memorial Day, Grandpa's birthday, or the anniversary of his death.  I don't need a special day to remember him.  I have his medals displayed in my office next to the flag that was presented at his funeral.  Most importantly, I have a relationship with my Savior because of the legacy he passed down through my dad.

Shortly after New Year's (2013) I was poking through my parents' storage shed in Missouri and came across a briefcase full of Grandpa's notes from the Korean War.  I've heard all these stories a hundred times each, but never before have I read them sequentially.  It's been about 8 years since I've heard his voice, but I heard it again in those 31 pages of memoirs.   I want to share them with you here.  They won't appeal to everyone, but for those who read them you will meet a man worth emulating, an example worth following.  Stay tuned...

Waiting Well

Is. 30:18 Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the LORD is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!

To wait is to be human.  What is it you are waiting for?  Medical test results, academic test results, decisions made by other people, lost loved ones to respond to your many Gospel pleadings, federal tax return… waiting is what we do.  Waiting stinks.  Waiting hurts.

If we knew what the test score would be, waiting wouldn’t be so bad.  Would it?  It’s the not knowing that bothers us so much.  But, God knows.  He saw the score before the test was taken.  He knows what bills you will pay with 2012’s tax return.  Not only does he know, but His plan is intimately woven into those things we wait for, and each of them develops into our ultimate good.  He will be gracious, He will be compassionate, and He will be just.  We will wait. 

Five years ago I wanted to be an active duty Air Force Chaplain so badly I could taste it.  I knew that no other career would satisfy my hunger for purpose, duty, and ministry.  The only problem was I was wrong.  God used the messenger of military bureaucracy to communicate His plans to me.  The message was, “Wait.  Serve in another capacity until your résumé is beefy enough to get the job.”  The part of the message I didn’t get at that time was, that in waiting I would learn that I don’t really want the active duty Chaplain gig.  My passions don’t match what that job requires.  So, my path took a different turn than I expected, but it was the one God was waiting for me to grow into all along.  How blessed I am to have waited!

This verse becomes even more powerful when placed back into its context.  Isaiah 30:8-17 paints a picture of a rebellious nation, “children unwilling to hear the instruction of the Lord” (vs:9).  Sometimes the reason God waits to pour out His blessings is simply for our maturation, like in James 1:2-3.  Other times, like in this text, He waits for the purpose of our obedience.  You may be in one place or the other.  The thrilling part of this is, if you are His child, whatever the reason for His delay, what waits on the other side is God’s manifold blessing.  Not only that, but He is longing for the day when that blessing will be revealed!

Imagine that, the God with an inexhaustible storehouse of blessings gets butterflies in His stomach (not that He actually has a stomach) when He thinks of the day He opens that storehouse for you.  In your waiting, by all means, examine yourself to see if there is some sin or immaturity blocking God’s blessing.  But, don’t lose sight of God’s longing for you, his eager anticipation of what He will unfold in your life.

You will wait.  That is a guarantee.  Wait well for the God who delights to show you compassion.  Not as some distant benefactor, but as a Father who delights in his child’s embrace.  You will wait (and wait some more), He will give, you will be blessed.  This is the rhythm of life.  God invites us to dance to it well.  Blessed are all who wait for Him!

Why I Still Love the Hymns

I am of the generation that bears the greatest culpability for the Church moving away from hymns.  This isn’t all bad.  There are many wonderful contemporary songs that speak truth to our souls and lift our eyes to Christ.  Songs like “Blessed Be Your Name,” or one of our new ones, “Your Great Renown,” keep us in our place of humility before an Almighty, Benevolent, Praiseworthy God.  It doesn’t get more worshipful than that.  I love contemporary music, but not to the exclusion of the great hymns of the past.  One of the things I love about Grace Fellowship is the variety we enjoy in the music portion of our services.  As I like to say, “If you don’t like the music come back next week because it will be entirely different.”  When the schedule puts Juli on the piano or Dennis at the podium I know we are going to be singing hymns, and I rejoice for many reasons.  I’ll share just a few of them with you now:

1. Hymns are a great source of sound theology.  Your theology is what you believe to be true about God.  We are all theologians.  It is in our best interest to be good at it.  Hymns help. 

           

Martin Luther’s, “A Mighty Fortress,” is in my estimation the best teaching on demonology to be found outside the pages of your Bible.  “The prince of darkness grim, we tremble not for him – his rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure: One little word shall fell him.”  Contrasted with, “Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing, were not the right man on our side, the man of God’s own choosing.  Dost ask who that may be?  Christ Jesus, it is He – Lord Sabaoth His name.”  Lord Sabaoth is an Old Testament reference meaning, Lord of Hosts, or Lord of Armies.  James borrows this Hebrew phrase to comfort persecuted Christians, reassuring them that “Lord Sabaoth” has heard their prayers.  No song encourages me more in spiritual battle than the theological precision of “A Mighty Fortress.”

            

“I Know Whom I Have Believed” is another powerful hymn that condenses theology into poetry.  “I know not how the Spirit moves, convincing men of sin, nor how believing in His Word wrought peace within my heart.”  And then, right out of 2 Timothy 1:12, “But I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I’ve committed unto Him against that day.”  There are mysteries beyond the scope of our intellect.  Good theology is honest about that while grasping firmly to what we know – to what Scripture reveals.  This hymn anchors us to the biblical truth of Christ.

2. Hymns are communal.  Sunday evening a handful of folks came out for our hymn-sing.  The attendees ranged in age from Lucas to Chet Firnekas.  The Grace Fellowship tenure ranged from Joan Crowe to Les Hunt.  Every person present knew every one of the songs.  That would not be possible during a Praise and Worship jam-fest (as fun as that would be!).  Across generational and geographical lines hymns draw us together in a way that is truly unique.

            

Hymns speak the language of the Church.  Joel helped me lead during the hymn-sing and it was obvious that in his 9 years of life he’s picked up at least a cursory knowledge of many hymns.  He can walk into any church and know the hymns.  He can go with me to Amie Holt and sing along with 90-year-old saints who can only mouth the words.  When he is 90 and residing in an assisted living facility he’ll be singing “In the Garden” while his great-grandkids groan under the weight of an ancient hymn, “Grandpa, that song is so old!”  But, it still speaks the language of the church.  Always has, always will.  “Blessed be the tie that binds.”  Few things do that more than music; no music does that more than the hymns.

3. Hymns have stood the test of time.  And Can it Be, Come Thou Fount, It is Well.  Isaac Watts, John and Charles Wesley, Fanny Crosby.  These names will be with the Church for eternity – most likely quite literally.  This is not to say that “In Christ Alone” won’t stick around for generations to come.  It is to say that a true classic, a true great hymn of the faith, will make its way into the annals of hymnody and your great-great-grandchildren will find themselves humming it around the house.

            

Many contemporary songs that were popular 5 years ago have faded away.  We’ll be singing a thousand variations of “Amazing Grace” for another thousand years.  I tend to think that “Blessed be Your Name” is here to stay, while “Jesus, You’re My Super Hero” has just about ran its course.

            

The reason why #2 is true is because #1 is true, which is also why #3 is true.  A song with powerful lyrics will find itself sung by the faithful who will pass it on to grateful generations to come.  “Be Thou My Vision” will never be trumped.  These timeless words, transcending generational and cultural categories, speak to Christians of every age.  “Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise, Thou mine inheritance, now and always: Thou and Thou only, first in my heart, High King of heaven, my treasure Thou art.” 

What are your favorite hymns and why?  What would you add to this list of reasons why you love the hymns?  

Hell?

I read "Love Wins," by Rob Bell.  Everyone who reads that book has a response.  They either love it or hate it, but no one I've talked to shrugs and says, "ah, it was OK."  Everyone has an emotional response.

I, too, have a response.  I don't want to take the time write, nor do I ask you to read, a lengthy review on the book.  A web search will yield better results than I could piece together.  Rather, this is simply my response.

There are two basic lenses through which people read the Bible.  Everyone interprets Scripture with Scripture, and everyone interprets Scripture with life.  Everyone admits to the first statement; most deny the second, but without doubt everyone interprets Scripture through those two lenses.

There are two basic groups of people reading the Bible.  Those who accept it as supremely authoritative  over all things, and those who view it as a good book of stories about God and morals.  People from both camps exist in and out of "the Church."  People from both camps preach, teach, and write books about the Bible.  Most of the time they don't identify themselves as belonging to either camp.

The first group (for lack of a better term we'll call them "Bible-centered") begins with the clarity of Scripture.  The clear passages ("by grace are you saved through faith") are used to interpret the fuzzy passages ("sell all you have, give the money to the poor, then you'll inherit eternal life") and troubling circumstances of life (like when kind, old grandma died who never confessed Christ).  We leave the possibility open that she confessed Christ in those final moments.  There is always room for one more criminal on a cross.  But, ultimately, Scripture is allowed to speak more loudly than our wants and longings.  It begins with Scripture and seeks to align man with God's revealed will.

The second group (for lack of better term we'll call them "philanthropic") emphasizes the ambiguity of Scripture.  The fuzzy passages ("sell all you have, give the money to the poor, then you'll inherit eternal life") are used to create pause before the clear passages ("by grace are you saved through faith"), providing space for comfort in the troubling circumstances of life (like when kind, old grandma died who never confessed Christ).  One may say, "Grandma didn't know Jesus by name, but there never was a more Christ-like person to grace this earth.  We'll see Grandma again in Heaven one day."  The meaning of the Bible is interpreted through the lenses of life and Scripture from the basis of our wants and longings.  It is philanthropic, it is man-centered, and reads the Bible accordingly.  The Bible is a helpful source, but what settles the hard issues is what we think mankind needs.

In "Love Wins" Rob Bell, if nothing else, demonstrates that he reads Scripture through his lenses sitting behind a philanthropic desk.  The question dominating the book is, "what kind of God do you want to believe in?"  The difficult circumstances of life and fuzzy portions of Scripture repeatedly create pause in front of the clear warnings from even Christ Himself, like, "fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell.  Yes, I tell you fear Him!"  God never asks us what kind of God we want to believe in - what kind of God we think He should be.  Rather, He lovingly reveals Himself to be a God of love and wrath, power and mercy, forgiveness and punishment - a God to be feared and worshipped, loved and obeyed.  He is the Lion and the Lamb.

The final response to "Love Wins" I leave to the individual reader.  But, I caution you, interpret God on His terms.