The Case
It is two-thirty in the afternoon. I am sitting at my chapel-office desk at Parks Air Force Base, California. I acknowledge a knock at the door. The sergeant in charge of administrative affairs opens it and says, "Chaplain, there's a young airman to see you. Can you give him some time?"
I ask the young airman in. Before me stands a seventeen-year-old youngster, who two weeks ago thought he had all the answers. His dad was a "back issue"; his mother was sweet, but not "hep to the times." His high school buddies were the sum of all wisdom. He has just been subjected to about ten days of very intense Air Force "indoctrination." In short, he's an Airman Basic—a recruit, the "low man on the totem pole" in the Air Force. He's tired; he's confused; he's scared to death. Every time someone raises his voice, he jumps. He's a boy who has been violently reoriented in a short time. He has completely changed his outlook on life. His mother and dad seem to have learned an amazing amount in these few days. He may want to get out of the service; he may not; but he does want some answers.
More than likely he has never been religiously inclined. This is evident from the way he answers my questions. For example: When asked if he thinks he could be termed religious, he replies that he attends church more or less regularly. It has never dawned upon him that there is a difference between the two, until it is pointed out to him. All he knows is that the home-town ties, the rules and regulations that have for so long guided his activities, are now missing. And since the principles behind those rules have long since been lost sight of, he looks to the chaplain to solve his problems.
He looks to the chaplain because probably for the first time in his life he feels a need; and seemingly no one else cares.
This boy, whom I have never seen before, comes to me cold, out of the past. Our paths will cross, more than likely, only this once. Then he will go away into the future. Our encounter will last from three minutes to possibly three hours, depending on how I handle it—three minutes, if I treat him in a statistical way; three hours, if I give him a sympathetic ear and a little loving understanding.
He is a typical young airman. He is the fish that we are supposedly fishing for, as fishers of men. His education is somewhere between the eighth and twelfth grades. Not theologically trained, he is not interested in high-sounding definitions of what God can do for him. Terms like "justification," "sanctification," and "eschatology" to him are meaningless. He seeks guidance for a particular problem, assurance in the midst of a perplexing situation, understanding in a time of personal stress. He finds these things in his chaplain, or he goes away empty.
If, as a result of the right kind of treatment, he asks for a definition of what I as a Seventh-day Adventist Christian believe, he does not seek a doctrinal dissertation, but a practical, down-to-earth explanation of my religious experience in terms that he can understand, appropriate to his own life.
Here is our situation. Five minutes of time, separated from the rest of eternity, in which to give a witness to a man possibly for the only time. What would you tell him? Would you tell him that Seventh-day Adventists worship on the seventh day and look for the soon coming of Christ? Would you tell him that we believe Seventh-day Adventists form the nucleus of a movement back to New Testament Christianity? Or would you tell him that we believe that Jesus Christ saves from sin? You all know the answer.
Anything other than the simple gospel told in simplest language is absolutely worthless at a time like this. Such a man is not prepared to receive what is traditionally known among us as "the truth" or "the message." He is not interested in the quaint little folkways and mores of the cloistered Christian community whose members from Sabbath to Sabbath worship without incident. He is not interested in theological dogmas or historic doctrines. He is seeking, rather, the assurance that someone, somewhere, somehow, loves him, not because he is good, but so that he may become good.
Doctrines, of course, are essential. But they are only the vehicles enabling one to arrive at a clearer understanding of Jesus Christ. Any doctrine that does not produce this effect in the individual is worthless, particularly at a moment like this. Of what value is any teaching unless it be an avenue to a clearer understanding of the saving Christ?
The young airman in my office must be led to realize that not only must he have confidence in his fellow men, but under God he must have confidence in himself because of the confidence that God has placed in him. God revealed this trust by sending His Son, and by giving the young man a free will to exercise in relation to that Gift.
The chaplain who answers these basic questions, regardless of his specific denomination, will count for the most in helping to form the future life of this young man, because the young man is most susceptible at this time while his old roots are gone and his new roots have not yet grown. If I, as a Seventh-day Adventist, cannot fill this need and exhibit a genuine Christian love at a time like this, then there are only two alternatives. Either someone else will do so, or—no one else will.
Men in the service live under a constant strain, not known or appreciated by the civilian. The civilian has no concept of military life, and therefore any description of it, except of the comical aspects, falls on deaf ears. Young men live in an atmosphere supercharged with danger and even death, without the stabilizing influence of loved ones.
The Remedy
If you have not had the occasion to reduce your faith to telegram length, then let me suggest that you try to do so. Men and women under the strain of present-day living are not interested in voluminous expositions of faith; neither are they interested in sermons that are eternal while seeking to be immortal. People of today have been conditioned either to the half-hour radio and television program (including the commercials), or at best to the "spectacular." Since so few of us are in the latter category, may I suggest that the cablegram approach be given more earnest consideration.
Here again we find that in the writings of the servant of the Lord are our grandest concepts of acceptable evangelism and worship. We have been instructed for decades that sermons and prayers should be "short and to the point"; that we as a people have preached doctrine until we are "as dry as the hills of Gilboa, that had neither dew nor rain"; that we should not just preach the truth, but that we should preach the truth "as it is in Jesus." Doctrinal harangues have not been, are not now, and never will be the method that God can honor and bless. What the world needs is an intimate, vital relationship with an experimental knowledge of the living person of Jesus Christ.
If such a love relationship becomes a reality in the individual's life, the by-product will automatically be in harmony with God's standards. And the standard per se will never have to become a prominent burden of preaching and teaching. Such a relationship is referred to in the writings of the Lord's messenger as "righteousness by faith." It is defined in the same source as "the third angel's message in verity."
The Preparation
I am deeply grateful for the God-given opportunity not only to serve as His ambassador of love in the United States Air Force, but also to have had the privilege of a more adequate preparation during my four years at the Theological Seminary. Words cannot adequately portray the fellowship that it has been my joy to share with the men who guided me in my studies; neither can words express my personal gratitude for the part they played in helping me to discover in a fuller way the person of Jesus.
I feel that all of us—the civilian ministry, the teachers, the leaders—must exhibit more concern about the youth not only after but before they become servicemen. And this I do know—that I am better able to manifest empathy toward these young men in the service because of the re-evaluations, and the mental discipline of advanced study, and the higher concepts grappled with and assimilated thereby.
During my stay at the Seminary I sought to acquaint myself with matters spiritual in four major fields. Any man who feels called as a representative of God to his fellow men ought to know, if possible, the languages in which God's Book was written. A working knowledge of Hebrew and Greek is a most effective aid in rightly expounding truth. It seemed that I must also have at least a working knowledge of how that Book was received and transmitted through the millenniums before the first advent of Christ. For such knowledge archeology and the history of antiquity were foundational. The study of church history and especially the practicum in evangelism and pastoral work, with emphasis upon the principles of pastoral counseling, gives one a great background for successful ministry.
A chaplain who lives close to men facing the issues of life and death is challenged by such questions as this: "Chaplain, I want to believe what you say about our serving God, but I'm not sure whether there is a God." Not all in the armed services are in that state spiritually, but far too many are, and among them are some who have even attended our own schools. This is not a reflection on our teachers, but it does point up the need for basic study on the vital doctrines of God, His nature, His interest in us as individuals, and above all, the great atonement made for us on the cross.
For our young men to merely have the language of Christianity is not enough. We must help them to know God and Jesus Christ the Saviour of the world. Every Adventist serviceman should be a living witness for the living God. As chaplains, we do our best to undergird these young lives, but what a joy it is when youth from our own schools move among their associates as true witnesses of the great spiritual relationships of which we preach.
