(cover for soldiers and veterans)
After 9-11 and the World Trade Center destruction that two-gun Texan (Pres. Bush, G. W.) came out shooting from the hip with both hands and the Iraq War started. Everybody grabbed a flag to wave, bumper stickers and all that.
In my Vietnam experience the same thing happened, people waved their flags then they threw their flags away and turned on the soldiers; “Baby Killers, War Mongers, Mentally Unstable, Nut Jobs, Crazy, Dope fiends, Druggies, Weirdos, Murderers, Women Killers, Butchers,” and a whole lot of worse names than those; their rude, crude finger gestures, thrown fruit, eggs and spit; it gave us the miseries. I guess you’ve heard or read the stories.
NOTE: I was re-reading this article today, Jan. 20, 2020, and I felt compelled to add this. Sometime near the middle of last year Time Magazine printed a little story written by some woman that she didn’t believe all the above happened. I wish she had been there with us when we arrived from Viet Nam in late 1967 to the big Naval Base in San Diego, California so we could find civilian transportation home. We were told not to wear our Marine uniform off base because we might be harassed by civilians. When my bus left base the dear flower children were there chanting and throwing their lovely gifts at the military bus, we survivors were riding to get to the airport. END OF NOTE.
The Hippies, Flower Children, Peaceniks, Draft Dodgers AND my ‘Nam experience led me to expect the same thing for our Iraq War soldiers, SO I had no flag nor bumper stickers; my patriotism is inside. I’d never said much about ‘Nam. Most of us just kept our heads down, our mouths shut, went to school or work, got married, raised our families the best we could and tried to forget; yeah, fat chance of that!
Anyway, the Iraq War had started. Somebody came up in my face and asked me; “Where’s your flag, ain’t you patriotic?” It was like somebody had covered my skin with gunpowder and set it on fire, burned up! (Eph. 4:26) Desire to sin was in my heart but through the Holy Spirit I managed to keep my mouth shut and my fists to myself.
I wondered; “What can I do to show I’m patriotic?” Days went by as I wondered and I finally got an idea, at least I thought it was my idea, but later I would come to understand whose idea it really was.
I ordered some Marine Corps utility soft covers; they are a little bit like baseball hats but they have the octagonal crown that only Marines wear. Marines call hats “covers”. I’m sure the Marines will understand and forgive me for calling a cover a hat so people will know what I’m talking about, at least the Christian Marines will forgive me.
In the flat, upright, front part I had embroidered a gold Marine Corps emblem in the center, with the years of my ‘Nam tours on each side in gold, 63-64 on one side and 66-67 on the other, below that, representing two of the medals awarded me, were the authorized military ribbons of the gold, green and red Vietnam Campaign ribbon and the purple and white Purple Heart award ribbon for being wounded in action.
Below that on the band part that fits the hat to your head are the words NUFF SAID in the biggest gold letters that would fit the space. Only a military person would understand the meaning and a civilian would understand it meant something military. Neat, neat, neat! I had gotten a Purple Heart car license plate too. More neat, neat, neat! A couple of weeks after that I took a bad case of the thens.
I need to explain something about the thens before I go on. My thinking is like one of those old-fashioned percolator coffee pots with the little glass bulb on top. The water gets hot somewhere down below then it bubbles up in the glass bulb, then it trickles back down to the aluminum container part that holds the coffee.
Then it works its way through the dry grounds slowly soaking the coffee out. Then it slowly dribbles out into the actual coffee pot, then you can pour yourself a cup. That slow process takes a lot of time, just like my thinking. I love it when God inspires me and reveals something to me, no thinking there, just do it or write it. When He’s willing to do it, God has a great cure for the “THENS.”
Then I started wondering about the hat; “This looks a whole lot like I’m bragging.” Then in a few days I started wondering; “What does God think about this?” Then shortly after that; (Prov. 6:16-17) “God hates a proud look, this may be gonna get bad for me.” Then defensively; “Well, I’m just defending myself and what I believe.”
Then in a few days the thought percolated through; “I could have Jesus’ name on my hat instead of this stuff.” That hurt; “What kind of Christian am I anyway?” Then a few days later it started dawning on me; “Is this hat some weird type of idolatry?” That thought shocked me and scared me. I was coming to a decision whether to burn the hats or not!
Then two or three days later on Sunday somebody stood up in Church and made a prayer request for a Vietnam Vet who was holed up in an old house by himself in another county; “Ron’s lost. I want you folks to pray for him and keep him in your prayers. I’ll swear, nobody can talk to him. He won’t take nothing off of anybody!” God pushed the go witness to him button because of that prayer request, I started praying and forgot about the hat. God had cured my case of “THENS.”
It took a few days to find out approximately where Ron, the Vietnam Vet, lived. Ron was kind of secretive, not even the person who had requested prayer for him knew where he lived. During that time, I asked a male Christian who knew Ron if he wanted to go with me, he didn’t know where Ron lived either.
“I wouldn’t bother him fer anything. He’s mean as a blind copperhead (hillbilly colloquialism for the time when a poisonous snake sheds its skin and cannot see because the shedding skin covers its eyes as summer is ending and it strikes at threatening sounds) in dog days.” I thought; “Wow, thanks for the encouragement.” I finally found out approximately where Ron lived and the day came when I knew in my heart it was the day to go, I went. Prayed up? “Yes.” Dread? “Yes.” Fear? “No.” Dread that I might be attacked and be forced to defend myself and sin. I trust God but a lot of times I don’t trust me.
There were two houses close together that looked alike. They were several decades old wooden houses with one long side of the wooden front porch attached to the front of the house. The two porch ends about 10 feet wide and the other long side of the porch about 30 feet long with the front steps were held up by wooden posts. Their front doors had the big, one-piece, clear glass window maybe 24″ x 30″. I climbed the wooden steps to the porch of the first house and knocked on the door.
That old porch started shaking slightly, kind of like a tremble, and I looked down; “Earthquake?” I looked back up and through the window I saw a humongous, lump of a man lumbering through the house toward the door. He had to be at least 6′ 6″ and 350+ pounds. He shook the whole house as he stomped toward me!
Sometimes I have vagrant thoughts before I can stop them; “Ungh, man! Lord, this might have been easier if he was my size.” I’m glad God is merciful to vagrant thoughts and stupidity. He jerked open the door and blurted out; “What do you want here?”
“If you’re Ron I’ve come to tell you about Jesus and explain how to get saved.” He snorted; “I’m not Ron. I’m already a Christian. Ron lives in the next house over and you stay away from him!”
“Why?”
“That’s the meanest man that ever lived. He’ll say anything to you. He’ll hurt ye if he takes a notion!” “Well, God’s put it on my heart, I’ve prayed about it and I’ve got it to do.” I was turning away.
“He’s liable to shoot ye if you push him!” I looked back and I meant what I said; “I hope he shoots straight and kills me dead so I don’t have to suffer much, all he can do is send me to heaven.” and I went down the steps and started across the yard.
“I’m going to stand right here on the end of my porch and watch!” Thoughts; “Yeah, great!” A loving Christian would have gone back in his house and prayed for me; and I forgot about him. A lot of times I don’t trust other Christians too.
When I knocked on the door, I saw a slim, neat man get up and start toward the door with quick, smooth, steps. He looked a shade taller than me. He opened the main door and unlatched the old-fashioned screen door. He spoke in a crisp, hard, yet neutral voice; “What do ye want?”
“I’d like to talk to you about Jesus and the salvation He offers.” He pushed the screen door open, stepped out on the porch until we were almost toe to toe and looked straight into my eyes. I knew this was a man who handled his own trouble, right up front, as soon as the trouble came!
He had odd, hot, electric blue eyes that seemed to simmer and they bored into mine for several seconds as he took the measure of me. Then that blue, laser gaze shifted up and fastened on my hat. “Is that cover the real thing?” “Yep, Ninth Marines.”
He looked back into my eyes, a ghost of warmth washed across his face and was gone, he reached out with his left hand and took a firm grip on my upper right arm where it comes off my shoulder and shook hands with me with his right hand. “Army, 25th Infantry. Come on in, I ain’t much of a housekeeper.” The branch of service don’t matter when you’ve been in hell, fear, and fury. Soldiers who have fought know that.
We didn’t know each other yet but all the same we were brothers; brothers born from the womb of horror, anger, fear, blood and rejection; brothers strangely haunted, curiously broken and remade, brothers yet strangers to each other and sometimes strangers to ourselves; that’s why Ron said; “Come on in, I ain’t much of a housekeeper.”
We got acquainted. Over the next few years, I regularly visited Ron. We didn’t tell very many war stories, just regular conversation. We had a lot in common, the way we were raised on hard times, soup beans, taters ‘n cornbread, fishing, working, hunting, farming, not trusting the government and politicians in general, nightmares, sleeplessness, bad thoughts, distrust of people in general; a Vietnam Vet will understand.
Of course we talked about the Bible too, a lot. I had the distinct impression Ron figured God wouldn’t have anything to do with a man like him who had done what he’d done. Ron gave the impression he didn’t want anything to do with God either. BUT: In some people you just can’t see the Holy Spirit war for their soul that’s hidden back behind their face in their secret place.
One time Ron did explain the white mark in the iris of his right eye was a scar and the scars on the right side of his face and head were where pieces of human bone were driven into him when his buddy got shot in the head as they lay side by side in a firefight. That’s what war is.
Ron had developed colon cancer and he had started that slow, wasting descent into the termination part of it, it was too far advanced. That’s what terminal cancer means, termination of life here in this world.
(Heb. 11:6 keyword: seek) It was hard to convince Ron that seeking God at this time in his life wasn’t scared religion. (Psa. 111:10) “Ron look in the New Testament. Everybody who came to Jesus was scared and had bad troubles but that didn’t stop Jesus. Think about this Buddy; Jesus had to be there for anything to happen.”
“That’s what this is about, I know Jesus is here in His Holy Spirit form working in you, revealing Himself, calling you to come on to Him where you’ll be loved and appreciated and reproving you because of your sins. That’s what people around here call being under conviction.”
(John 6:44 & 12: 32) “When Jesus is here through the Holy Spirit it’s God’s time of drawing. It’s your chance Ron. God’s in charge of time, He knows when everything is right for His calling. That’s why He sent me here.” By the time that visit was over our tears were streaming, no boo-hoo, just a flow. It was a Holy Spirit chill bump time.
A few months later Ron got saved at home when Jesus and him were alone together. That was about three years after we first met. I wish you could have seen the soft, tenderness in his simmering blue eyes when he said; “Jim, I’m all right with the Lord, everything’s fixed up ‘n I’m ready to go.” That hard, tough man gave me a loose, half hug with one arm. There was a lot of tough soldier macho left in Ron because he hadn’t had time to grow as a Christian. It was the best he could do; it was enough.
I’m about to tear up a little bit now with the beauty of what God accomplished in Ron’s hard-lived, no-hope life. (John 6:68) Like Simon Peter said; “Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.”
Ron died a few months later. I wasn’t sad, my friend was out of his misery. His body was fixed out real nice in his coffin (2Cor. 5:6 keyword: home) but Ron wasn’t at home there anymore, (Rev. 21:23-27 esp. V.25 keywords: there shall be no night there) he’d gone to spend an endless day with the Lord (Micah 4:3 keyword: war) where WAR will not ever be.
Since that time the hat has started many conversations, in stores, quick stop food, gas-n-go while filling my car, in cashier check-out lines, on the street, everywhere. Because of the hat many doors to people’s hearts have been opened so I could tell them about Jesus. Sometimes in stores and on the street civilians will grin and say “NUFF SAID, I like that”. Then I tell them the story about how the hat came into being.
In stores Veterans sometimes grin and start a conversation about the hat. Sometimes people just stare at the hat, I walk over and with great kindness I start the conversation; “I can see you’re wondering about the hat, let me tell you about it.” And I do, just like I’ve told you. Strangely enough, in all these years nobody has ever refused to listen.
I like to tell people, both vets and civilians, the whole story about the hat, somehow people, both saved and lost, find the story fascinating. Sowing salvation seed for Jesus? Rejoicing with other Christians about how God works? Holy Spirit anointing? Of course it is! And I always give a website address card or some of the witnessing literature I carry too. I’ve never considered the hat to be idolatry again, not even one time. Like I said at the beginning; “I’ve come to wonder whose idea the hat really was.”
But the hat has a special meaning for me too, because, just like it did for Ron, it opens doors to veterans who somehow cannot assimilate back into regular society. They go get the necessities of living but they shut themselves away in wherever they live their lonely, suspicious, withdrawn lives.
When I find them, I knock on their doors and they look at the hat. The hat speaks to something forlorn, secretive and painfully withdrawn in them and it says; “I’ve been where you’ve been. I saw what you saw, I’ve felt what you’ve felt, I’ve felt my blood spill too and we’re brothers. I understand how it is.”
“Is that cover the real thing?” “Yep, Ninth Marines.” That ghost of warmth washes across their face and is gone. “I’ve come to tell you about Jesus and the salvation He offers.” So far every one of them takes my right arm above the elbow, pulls my arm toward them and shakes my hand exactly like Ron did! And they have all said; “Come on in, I ain’t much of a housekeeper.”
Sometimes God takes advantage of a situation, sometimes He makes something good come out of something bad and sometimes He plants ideas. My God is something else because there is none other like Him. (Deut. 10:17 & Rev. 17:14) My God is the Lord of all lords, the King of all kings, the God of all gods and, yeah, (Isa. 9:6-7) He’s the President of all presidents too (Josh. 34:15, Heb. 11:25 and Matt, Mark, Luke & John key: people always have a choice) AND my God is not a dictator (Matt. 28:18 & Rom 13:1-2) BUT dictators are under His control too.
Sometimes when God blesses me with His glorious, gracious, beautiful, loving, more than royal presence and His astonishing, unlimited intellect I just hump up in the abject poverty of my small, insignificant self and bask in the glory that someday I’ll meet Him face to face. I’ve heard a lot of people say they’ll look for this one or that one when they get to heaven but that isn’t a priority.
(John 14:8-9) If I’m allowed to, (Matt. 15:22-28 esp. V.26) all I want to do is crawl up on my belly like the dog I am (Rev. 5:6) and kiss His nail scarred feet. If I’m unworthy to do that I’ll be happy to stand back in the crowd and love Him and worship Him with my heart and my eyes and praise Him with my voice. GOD BLESS YOU.