In an instant, everything seemed to stop. I couldn’t hear a thing. Dazed, I looked around and tried to make sense of the silent, bloody scene of confusion around me.
We had been on a foot patrol when an explosion from a grenade attack interrupted our progress. After walking another thirty yards, I looked down and saw that I was walking strangely. The blood on my leg was my own, after all.
Yep, I’ve been hit, was the thought that crossed my mind. For some reason I was about as concerned as I would have been if I had realized I was bleeding from a paper cut. I knew I would be okay, that God hadn’t left my side.
I was taken out of battle at that point and went through five surgeries to remove shrapnel in my calf, ankle, and feet. I couldn’t walk for at least a month since both feet were damaged, but I eventually healed up and talked the doctors into letting me go back into battle before they were planning to release me.
I returned to my guys and was back in the battle on Thanksgiving 2003. It was awesome. While nobody said it out loud, everyone was thankful on that day that I was back. That’s where I belonged. I’m thankful for each little thing that happened in my life in Iraq. As I look back over it, I see where God had his hand. The grenade landed a foot and half from my feet. I’m still here today if that’s not a miracle I don’t know what is.
Sometimes on our spiritual battlefield, we get wounded and end up not wanting to go back into battle, but we have to. We must allow our wounds to heal up with the help of others and get back where we belong wherever it is that God has placed us.
Lord, give me the strength and courage I need to honor you in all my circumstances.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)