Tag Archives: Sergeant

They Were Fishermen

Early one morning, as my car’s headlights weaved around one mountain curve after another, a song on the radio caught my attention. The pleasing melody, like the pre-dawn somberness, melded together, finding its way into my soul. As I listened, the words began to speak to me.

They were fishermen, ordinary simple men.
A lot like you, a lot like me.
They were fishermen; Jesus chose to follow him
Go cast your nets out on the sea.
Go cast your nets out on the sea.

Men of few possessions, not men of wealth or fame.
Had no education, no titles by their name.
Yet it was they who answered and left to go with him
When Jesus said, I call you to be fishers of men.

Arriving early on campus, there is a calming tranquility that permeates the early morning darkness. Students sparsely ramble about, some seeking food from the dining hall, others are trying to make it back to their dorms after pulling an all-nighter before that 8:00 AM class. The only sounds are from the facility’s crews that prepare each day like the day before – utility and garbage trucks making their rounds. To be here before the sun rises adds another sense of peace to a place that becomes a pulsating, vibrant community by mid-afternoon on warm sunny days. In this time of respite, there is room to breathe, air to think. Here, the ponderings of living begin to percolate into the consciousness, and the Lord begins to speak.

Once more, in this life, I find myself a college student (albeit part-time). There is a purpose for why I’m here. God’s plans are never our own. The thought of how and why seldom seem to leave the cusp of my thoughts. In so doing, I make it a point to remind myself of the “why.” At my age, one might be looking forward to retirement. But for some reason, God has made me different. I look at the short time I have remaining on this earth and feel the urgency to strive ever more to fulfill His purpose in the path He has set before me.

Appalachian State University, 2021

As a college student striving to fulfill one’s purpose, every day is an unending stream of information, tests, and trials through which one must struggle. We all should strive every day to make the most of whatever we do as if we are serving God and not those who write our paycheck or grading our tests. “And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ.” So it is with this in mind that I seek not to complain, not to panic when I feel inadequately prepared for an upcoming quiz, nor to worry about grades. No, my goal is to learn as much as possible with an eye to returning to the classroom, to someday teach once again – for that purpose, to be there for these students is what drives me onward. Those short three years when I served at the High School were a never-ending stream of caring, loving, and nurturing the students who had been placed into my care. Some of them still keep in touch, which warms my heart with each distant hello.

A career of working in the computer/network-based industry had provided me the basis for obtaining my current career position. The landing of that position was as much a testimony as to all the others before it – a story for another time. But before being the System Administrator here at App’s Computer Science department, there were many years in which my career interfaced with technologies and applications that are usually the end-point for someone attending college. My journey has somewhat physically been the reverse. Over time, all of those various computer architectures, operating systems, and protocol languages created in me a wealth of information – knowingly or not.

However, unlike those beginning disciples to whom Jesus called, my slate is not empty. Similarly, the students around me don’t have to wade through years of industry knowledge and similar-sounding acronyms, which now I’m being taught stand for something new. As those fishermen left their nets behind, they had an open mind and weren’t clouded by the teachings and intense studies, as were their counterparts who persecuted Jesus, the Pharisees. No, these were simple men. They were ordinary men who worked day-to-day to feed their families and provide for their community. They had no preconceived interpretations as did their counterparts but were open to the words which Jesus spoke.

In the Air Force Basic Training, we were taught to shoot an M16, the rifle of choice in the early ’80s. As the Training Instructor (TI) was going over the presentation, he clearly stated, “Raise your hand if you have ever hunted or learned to shoot a weapon at home.” Of course, over half the class raised their hands. He then continued, “Those of you who raised your hands will most likely not make Marksman.” Now, the word “Marksman” was a badge of honor to a young man. It meant that, even though you were merely an Air Force serviceman, you would have something to say to the world, “Hey, look at me, I’m a good shot with an M16.” Ribbons, which were the badges of honor to the entry-level airman, were much-coveted, so the more you could earn, the prouder your chest became.

The Sergeant went on to explain why he made such a deflating comment. “You see, when you learn to shoot at home, you develop your own style, your own habits begin to form. When we get out there on that shooting range, those old habits will be hard to break. Although we’ll show you the right way, those preconceived practices will hinder your ability to follow through with the new instruction, and as such, you will fail.” As much as I tried to listen and obey, I too fell short and missed Marksman by a few points. It was the same concept with those disciples whom Jesus had chosen. They were not encumbered with the wealth of knowledge that prevented the Pharisees from seeing who he was. Even if the Pharisees wanted to believe, they could not clear their minds enough to accept the mind-altering concepts Jesus delivered.

Take Nicodemus, for one. He was an esteemed leader of the Jews and one of the Sanhedrin, one of the highest orders of the Jewish Rabbinical Judges. He sought out Jesus at least one recorded evening after dark. Some speculate this was to protect himself from being caught with Christ so as not to tarnish his reputation. Others believe that it was because that most scholars of that time did most of their intense study after dark when the surrounding communities would become quieter and the air was cooler. Here, under the cover of night, the ruler of the Jews met with Jesus and struggled to understand how he, an old man, could be born again. “How can these things be,” Nicodemus asked Christ. Jesus responded with, “Art thou a master of Israel, and knowest not these things? Verily, verily, I say unto thee, We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen; and ye receive not our witness. If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe not, how shall ye believe, if I tell you of heavenly things?” Nicodemus never became a disciple, but we know that he never gave up following the life of Jesus. He was even credited with contributing to the burial of Christ about a hundred pounds of myrrh and aloes, demonstrating a verifiable act of love toward the Savior.

If you are blessed enough to reach advancing years in age, you can be afforded the opportunity to look back and marvel at the journey. In this reminiscent vein, you can see how God has often used not only yourself but also those around you. Myself, being a child from an impoverished farming family, there were never any dreams that could have manifested themselves into the life I now lead.

How many of you would have ever envisioned yourself being where you are now in life?

My family never lacked for anything, but we were not rich by Wall Street’s standards. Our bountiful living came from God’s providence, his creation, and the devotion that endured for generations. From that bedrock faith of my youth to the uncharted waters my footsteps find themselves upon today, there has and will always be that guiding light. As He has spoken to many so many times before, “Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain: that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you.”

We are all made different. Our paths to life eternal are never the same. But we can take comfort in knowing that we don’t have to have credentials behind our name. We don’t have to have an extensive portfolio nor earthly wealth and fame to have a relationship with the Lord. All it takes is that we step down from our pedestals and open our minds so that we can receive the truth and the way to life eternal. In other words, we must wipe our slates clean and humble ourselves in the sight of the Lord. It is written in scripture, “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.”

Jesus wasn’t looking for supermen when he found his disciples; he was only looking for one thing – simple men who would become fishers of men.

Yes, Jesus chose fishermen; they were a lot like you and a lot like me.

Thanks be to God.

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Faith in Flight…

And it shall come to pass afterward That I will pour out My Spirit on all flesh; Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, Your old men shall dream dreams, Your young men shall see visions.” – Joel 2:28

Major Dowd and his crew rushed into our Avionics Shop early one morning barely giving the on duty NCO to call the room to order. “Never mind men, at ease,” he hurriedly commanded.

I was standing at the test bench going over some equipment that had come in during the previous night’s routine airplanemaintenance. He looked in my direction, “Grab your flight bag, you’re coming with me Airman.” A lump instantly grew in my throat the size of a watermelon. It seemed the only time a maintenance crew member got to fly was when there was a plane so broken, that the only way to reproduce the problem was to take her, the aircraft, into flight. Before I could reply, “Yes sir,” MSgt Hall spoke up, “I better go too sir.” He looked at me and winked then turned back to the Major, “She’s been giving us a fit on the ground so it will take two of us.”

“That’ll be fine,” the Major replied, “Meet me on the flight-line in 30 minutes and we’ll take her up.”

“Yes sir,” we both replied.

The Major and his entourage turned and departed. Sergeant Hall turned around and grinned that Missippi toothy smile at me, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun.”

All I could do was shake my head and bite my lip. Yes, I was in the Air Force, but the truth was, I hated flying.

Growing up, I had repeated dreams of flying in the most unconventional manner. It seemed each time I would take flight as if I were swimming in the air. However, instead of flapping my arms, my altitude was always maintained by kicking my legs. Many times my preferred dream aircraft was an old tire swing. Unfortunately, in almost every dream, it would end in a downward death spiral, one that I could not control. Each time I would wake up on impact, breathless but still recalling the thrill of the flight, if only a few seconds afterward.

Later in life, I would continue to dream, but not as often of flying. My dreams would turn to things that pertained to my life and what sometimes might lie ahead. When writing, I would turn to God and pray for an answer to where my plot line might need to go. I would wait for a sign or a word. Many times, the answer would come to me in a dream or vision. Today, I still draw my inspiration from dreams, and so it was with this story.

That particular day the Major came into our shop, we loaded into the SINCSAC’s plane. It would eventually be the same plane General Schwarzkopf would command from during the beginning of Desert Storm and during the Gulf War. Needless to say, this was mainly the reason for the Major’s hasty visit to our shop that morning and our immediate orders for in-flight repair; it was a crucial plane.

We climbed into the command quarters of the prestigious aircraft and took a quick survey. The aft section of the plane contained a comfortable sleeping quarters and conference room fit for any General. There was even a full-blown kitchen with a menu of steak and lobster; nothing was spared for the top brass. The flight crew showed us to our seats. Unlike any other KC-135, these were plush commander-in-chief type seats, complete with covered head and armrests. The sergeant and I buckled into the nicest seating we’d ever know and prepared for the flight from hell.

We knew in advance that there was a problem with porpoising. Porpoising was the gentle arcing of a plane during autopilot. Plus or minus fifty feet was within specifications, which is what she had tested on the ground. Yet, the flight crew was reporting severe porpoising, nothing like we were saying we found; thus the surprise flight. As the plane climbed to altitude, we were well over the base were I was stationed at Warner Robbins Georgia. Below, through the pilots window, we watched as all of Georgia spread out before us prior to Major Dowd issuing the command, “Ready gentlemen,” he said to his crewmen. It was then I noticed the flight engineer grab the edge of the command center wall.

Something bad was about to happen, I could just sense it.

When God calls us, we often run and hide. We find our hell becomes the world we are creating in order to avoid his call. We find our lives slowly beginning to spiral down, down, down. We push away until all is lost.

Many are called, but few are chosen.”

My mind raced back to those childhood dreams and the death spirals. I pushed them away and listened as the Major then spoke to Sergeant Hall and myself as he looked back toward our seats, “I’m going to engage the autopilot now, you may want to brace yourselves. You’ll see what we mean when we say it’s out of specs.”

My hell was about to become real. Had I run until it was too late? Was this my wake up call?

Initially, there was only a minor jolt. “Hmm, not so bad I thought,” as I looked over at Sergeant Hall. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, “I don’t see any problem either.”

Then before our thoughts could allude any further separation from the truth, there was the feeling of your stomach climbing into your mouth as we looked out the front window to the horror of only the ground below in our sight. We had begun a complete nose-dive. In fact, we seemed to be headed straight for a Kamikaze strike upon my mobile home below, sitting in the on-base Trailer Park.

God, is this it,” I thought to myself as I looked at Sergeant Hall who was beginning to turn green.

In the next instance, there was nothing but blue sky in the windshield as our stomachs went from our throats down to our ankles.

There was an immediate sensation that I was about to lose my breakfast.

How embarrassing,” were the stifled thoughts as I watched Hall scramble to unleash his seatbelt. He was beginning to turn green himself.

The plane continued the death spiral to near stall climb, over and over. Meanwhile, Hall inched is way over to the equipment rack. Nearby, the flight engineer took his seat. Later I would learn that flight engineer’s prided themselves on standing the entire flight; all but this one of course.

We had learned in Tech. School that the one thing you never, ever wanted to do to the autopilot equipment was to bang on it, ESPECIALLY while in flight. Our equipment was created in the 1950s and as such, contained tubes. They had not yet transitioned to digital flight components. Part of the reason they had not been upgraded was because of the ability of the amplifiers to withstand nuclear pulses. So, if you jarred one of the primary controllers tubes hard enough, you could send the plane into an unpredictable attitude. Meaning, we could turn upside down and crash!

It was then I watched in horror as Sergeant Hall began beating upon the main control amp in desperation to release us from the prison the Major had purposely imposed upon us in order to gain an understanding that the plane was definitely still broken. It was then the thought passed through my mind, “Would the Major really try to kill us all just to prove his point? Surely not,” I answered in a not so confirming reply.

I closed my eyes and prayed. Swirling death spirals returned to my mind. I prayed harder.

Sometimes, when all is lost, the only recourse we have left is prayer and our faith. When Waldensians, the people of the valleys of the Cottien Alps, were released from their prison cells the size of modern day wash machines, their emaciated bodies were then forced to march 128 miles to Switzerland during the middle of winter. They had been imprisoned for their refusal to abjure their faith. Three thousand left for their freedom. Over 400 died along the journey. They recalled to those Swiss waiting for them with open arms, as a heroes welcome, “Faith in God is all we had.”

So it is in the darkest hour, we often find, faith is all we have left.

The plane jerked, then jolted and suddenly the porpoising ceased; at least for the moment.

“That’s it,” Sergeant Hall quickly reported to the Major, “You’ve got a bad Op Amp.”

“But I thought you said you already replaced it,” replied Dowd.

“Sure enough,” Hall responded, the color now returning to his forehead. “Well, this one must have been defective. You know how this old stuff can act up.”

The Major smiled and nodded. “I’ll turn off the autopilot just to be safe and take us back home.”

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

God had once more answered prayer.

The sergeant looked at me and whistled a quiet reprieve out of view of the flight crew on the others side of the wall from the equipment rack, wiping his forehead with his forearm. We both knew we were lucky to be alive.

When we landed, the sergeant requested the entire system be replaced. We called that “Shotgun” maintenance, meaning that if you don’t know for sure what the problem is, you just take a shotgun’s blast approach and replace it all.

I was never so thankful to be back on the ground once again.

We recalled the adventure to the rest of the Avionics shop, and they all agreed it was the best move, but none could believe that Sergeant Hall had actually pounded on the Op Amp, and we survived.

Looking back, I know that all through my life, even in the darkest hour, God was always there. Even when I was not seeking Him, He was still there for me, with me and watching over me. As it says in the 139th Psalms, “O Lord, You have searched me and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up; You understand my thought afar off. You comprehend my path and my lying down, And are acquainted with all my ways.”

Nowadays, my flights are few and far between, both those imagined and real. But today, my walk with the Lord is ever more close as I seek Him in all that we do. Yes, those dreams of old were there to serve a purpose, and those to come will do likewise. All we have to do is to listen and He will direct our paths.

Thanks be to God.

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