Soldier, Husband, Father

The Army taught me that my body is not my own, that orders exist, that comfort makes a poor god, and that a man can be faithful in work nobody will write down.

Then I came home to another set of offices. Husband. Father. Neighbor. Those don't come off at 1700.

Calling is received

The Reformers talked about vocation. I had to unlearn the modern version, which is basically "your dream." Vocation is the place God stationed you to love Him and serve your neighbor. You don't invent it in a journal. You notice you're already a husband today.

That cuts two ways, and I've been on both sides. It humbles the part of me that thinks holy work only happens behind a pulpit. It also confronts the part of me that uses "calling" as a reason to neglect the people already in my house.

What my people need

Discipline isn't the enemy of grace. The barracks can teach a man to show up. The gospel tells him why he can show up without pretending he can save anybody.

My children don't need a commander. They need a father who dies to himself, tells the truth, keeps his word, and points them to a better Captain than me.

My wife doesn't need a project manager. She needs a husband who will open the Word with her, bear with her, and remember she isn't in the way of my ministry. She's one of the first assignments.

I fail this. I'm not writing from the finish line.

Whatever you do

Colossians 3 won't let me split the week into sacred tasks and leftover ones. Whatever you do. The unseen work, the repeated work, the work that doesn't feel spiritual, if it's done in Christ it isn't wasted.

The boots by the door and the Bible by the boots aren't two lives. They're one man, still learning to live by faith in the rooms he was actually given.