Army Wives

They bought a round of drinks for the soldiers, three handsome young men wearing dress uniforms, Airborne patches on their shoulders. They said they wanted to thank these men for their service, these army wives whose hearts and husbands were far away in a place of unimaginable brokenness. They told of the kindness of a stranger who, several weeks earlier, had taken notice of their sadness and tears and picked up the tab for their dinner.

It was my privilege to bear witness to the world of these women, these army wives. They laughed and broke bread, raised glasses, and commiserated over things like broken vacuums and broken computers and children who missed their daddies at night. Those who had already lived through a husband’s deployment shared wisdom and encouragement for those walking this lonely and unfamiliar road for the first time. These women bore one another’s burdens; they bound up wounds; they blessed.

In bearing witness to this grace I wondered why I don’t often see it lived out with this same kind of urgency and intensity, both within the church and within my own life. Perhaps it has something to do with wanting to set aside military metaphors, those having to do with enemies and warfare and battles. Though these images are prominent in the biblical story, they make us—they make me—uncomfortable. We are divided, within the church, about things like war and peace. We know that those to whom the power of the sword has been entrusted have not always wielded it nobly or well. The enemy of our souls himself first introduced battle and enmity and strife into Eden’s peace. With war a reality in this broken and fallen world, that same enemy uses its very existence to divide us one from another.

Imagery of the church as the Bride of Christ seems much more pleasant, more comfortable and safe. We think of weddings and think of things like white lace and promises, beauty and love and joy. These are good images, given to us by our good and loving Father. Yet I wonder if, in clinging to the beautiful and the safe, we don’t sometimes forget that we are indeed at war, that we are in danger from one who prowls like a lion seeking to destroy us and those whom we love. His desire is to destroy Christ’s bride. But even at weddings when dressed up in our beautiful clothes, smiling at those around us, there can be an undercurrent of ugly. We find fault with the ceremony, with the music, with the parents who don’t attend to the wiggly children around us. We criticize the Bride herself.

Perhaps if we, like those army wives, knew for certain that we are at war, that we and our loved ones are in harm’s way, it would become more important to us to build up than tear down. Perhaps we need to be reminded that, when sending loved ones out the door each morning, we send them to do battle for the kingdom in reclaiming every square inch of this fallen world. The thorns that infest the ground cause pain.  We are wounded soldiers, battled and broken and bruised.  Perhaps then we would see the urgency, the necessity, of extending grace to one another; of bearing one another’s burdens, of binding up wounds, of blessing. Perhaps we’d be more willing to offer a cup of cold water to one weary from the fight. Maybe we’d even offer to buy a round of drinks.