The Fire

     My Bible was in my office as it burned down tonight in Iraq.  I have a lot of Bibles, I’m a Chaplain.  One Bible should be easily replaceable but not that one... 

     May 16^th 1999 I was standing in front of the Congregation of Valley View Baptist Church in El Paso, Texas with my wife  Jennifer,  and children, Ashley and Kaylee, (Tina and Stephen hadn’t been born yet).  The Pastor Brother Ron Fox had just presented us to the Church so that they could pray for us in our upcoming adventure.  I was applying to enter the Chaplaincy in the United States Army and one of the requirements was to be ordained as a minister of the Gospel by my Denominational Church.  Valley View Baptist Church had been praying for us, encouraging us, and giving me opportunities to preach for over 6 weeks since I first asked to be considered for ordination.  On May 16^th the ceremony had just completed, and Pastor Ron Fox handed me a brand new Black Bible.  It fit perfectly in my hand as he told me “Every Preacher needs a good Bible”.  On the first page was a hand written note from the Church reminding me that I was ordained to preach the Gospel. 

     I have carried that Bible with me ever since.  From my acceptance into the Chaplain Candidate Program, through years of Seminary, as a Youth Pastor, Assistant Pastor, and then as a Chaplain in the United States Army.  I had placed a picture of my family inside the front cover to remind me of the most precious things in my life.  My father in law, a Master Fisherman and who just recently went to be with the Lord took a fish hook and bent it over the front cover and told me “Son, go be a fisher of men.”  The 12 long years since the Bible was first placed in my hands have worn its cover, torn its spine,( which I have constantly taped back together), and loosened some of its pages that I have to make sure don’t fall out when I carry it.  It has weathered the hell of combat and brought care to the living, comfort to the dying, and honor to the dead.  It has had its leather wet from the tears of the grieving and been sandwiched between me and the joyful hugs of the newly married.  People who had lost hope found it rekindled in the pages of that beaten up black Bible that I carried with me everywhere.

     At half past midnight tonight there was a knock on my door.  Knocks on the Chaplains door in Iraq at this time seldom come from bearers of good news.  I opened the door and the 1SG said “Chaplain your office is burning down.  The fire department is trying to put it out right now.”  My office is one of three rooms in a long trailer beside the Veterans Memorial Chapel.  The two rooms next to my office are known affectionately to the Soldiers as the Troop Store.  Packages of every shape and size get sent from patriotic Americans who love Soldiers and they end up in the Troop Store.  Shaving crème, razors, chapstick, candy, cookies, letters, envelopes, coffee, and a host of other goodies are sorted out and placed on shelves for Soldiers to come through and use.  I ensure the doors are left unlocked 24hours a day so that Soldiers working shift work can come whenever they get off work to get snacks and toiletries at their leisure.  The fire started in the Troop Store.  The Fire Chief is still investigating to see if it was something electrical but it spread from the farthest Troop Store, to the Middle Troop Store, to my Office.

     My Bible was in my office that burned down tonight in Iraq.  I have a lot of Bibles, I’m a Chaplain.  One Bible should be easily replaceable, but not that one… The fireman exited out of the charred remains of the trailer covered in soot and said “There’s not much left in there.  In fact this was really all we saved.”  And he handed me a worn out Black Bible with a fishhook on the cover.  It was untouched, I wasn’t.