Continuing from The Battle for a Man’s Heart II:
WHAT’S REALLY GOING ON HERE, ANYWAY?
Let’s say it’s June 6, 1944, about 0710. You are a soldier in the third wave onto Omaha Beach. Thousands of soldiers have gone before you and now it’s your turn. As you jump out of the Higgins boat and wade to the beach, you see the bodies of fallen soldiers everywhere—floating in the water, tossing in the surf, lying on the beach. Moving up the sand you encounter hundreds of wounded men. Some are limping towards the bluffs with you, looking for shelter. Others are barely crawling. Snipers on the cliffs above continue to take them out. Everywhere you look there is pain and brokenness. The damage is almost overwhelming. When you reach the cliffs, the only point of safety, you find squads of men with no leader. They are shell-shocked, stunned and frightened. Many have lost their weapons. Most of them refuse to move. They are paralyzed with fear. Taking all this in, what would you conclude? What would be your assessment of the situation? Whatever else went through your mind you have to admit, This is one brutal war,and no one would disagreed or thought you odd for having said so.
But we do not think so clearly about life and I’m not sure why. Have a look around you—what do you observe? What do you see in the lives of men you work with, live by, go to church alongside? Are they full of passionate freedom? Do they fight well? Are their women deeply grateful for how well their men have loved them? Are their children radiant with affirmation? The idea is almost laughable, if it weren’t so tragic. Men have been taken out right and left. Scattered across the neighborhood lie the shattered lives of men (and women) who have died at a soul-level from the wounds they’ve taken. You’ve heard the expression, “he’s a shell of a man?” They have lost heart. Many more are alive, but badly wounded. They are trying to crawl forward, but are having an awful time getting their lives together; they seem to keep taking hits. You know others who are already captives, languishing in prisons of despair, addiction, idleness. or boredom. The place looks like a battle field, the Omaha Beach of the soul.
And that’s precisely what it is. We are now in the late stages of the long and vicious war against the human heart. I know, it sounds overly dramatic. I almost didn’t use the term “war” at all, for fear of being dismissed at this point as one more in the group of “Chicken Little” Christians who run around trying to get everyone worked up over some imaginary fear in order to advance their political or economic cause. But I am not hawking fear at all; I am speaking honestly about what is unfolding around us . . . against us. And until we call the situation what it is we will not know what to do about it. In fact this is where many feel abandoned or betrayed by God. They thought that becoming a Christian would somehow end their troubles, or at least reduce them considerably. No one ever told them they were being moved to the front lines, and they seem genuinely shocked at the fact that they have been shot at.
After the allies took the beach at Normandy, the war wasn’t over. In some ways it had just begun. Stephen Ambrose has given us unforgettable stories of what followed that famous landing in ‘Citizen Soldiers’, his record of how the Allies won the war. Many of those stories are almost parables in their meaning. Here is one that followed on the heels of D-Day. It is June 7, 1944.
Brig. Gen. Norman “Dutch” Cota, assistant commander of the 29th, came on a group of infantry pinned down by some Germans in a farm house. He asked the captain in command why his men were making no effort to take the building. “Sir, the Germans are in there shooting at us,” the captain replied. “Well, I’ll tell you what, captain,” said Cota, unbuckling two grenades from his jacket. “You and your men start shooting at them. I’ll take a squad of men and you and your men watch carefully. I’ll show you how to take a house with Germans in it.” Cota led his squad around a hedge to get as close as possible to the house. Suddenly he gave a whoop and raced forward, the squad following, yelling like wild men. As they tossed grenades in the windows, Cota and another man kicked in the front door, tossed a couple grenades inside, waited for the explosions, then dashed into the house. The surviving Germans inside were streaming out the back door, running for their lives. Cota returned to the captain, “You’ve seen how to take a house,” said the General, still out of breath. “Do you know how to do it now?” “Yes, sir.”
What can we learn from the parable? Why were those guys pinned down? First, they seemed almost surprised that they were being shot at. “They’re shooting at us sir.” Hello: That’s what happens in war—you get shot at. Have you forgotten? We were born into a world of war. This scene we’re living in is no sitcom, it’s a bloody battle, Haven’t you noticed with what deadly accuracy the wound is given? Those blows you have taken—they were not random accidents at all. They hit dead center. Charles was meant to be a pianist, but he never touched the piano again. I have a gift and calling to speak into the hearts of men and women. But my wound tempted me to be a loner, live far from my heart and from others. Craig’s calling is to preach the gospel like his father. His wound was an attempt to take that out.
. . . . . On and on it goes. The wound is too well aimed and far too consistent to be accidental. It was an attempt to take you out; to cripple or destroy your strength and get you out of action. The wounds we’ve taken were leveled against us with stunning accuracy. Hopefully, you’re getting the picture. Do you know why there’s been such an assault? The enemy fears you. You are dangerous big-time. If you ever really got your heart back, lived it with courage, you would be a big problem to him. You would do a lot of damage . . . on the side of good. Remember how valiant and effective God had been in the history of the world? You are a stem of that victorious stalk.
Let me come back to the second lesson of the parable from D-Day plus one. The other reason those men were lying there pinned down, unable to move is because no one had ever shown them how to take a house before. They had been trained, but not for that. Most men have never been initiated into manhood. They have never had someone to show them how to do it, and especially, how to fight for their heart. The failure of so many fathers, the emasculating culture, and the passive church have left men without direction.
That is why I have written this book. I am here to tell you that you can get your heart back. But I need to warn you—-if you want your heart back, if you want that wound healed and your strength restored and to find your true name, you’re going to have to fight for it. Notice you reaction to my words. Does something inside you stir a little, a yearning to live? And doesn’t another voice rush in, urging caution, maybe warning to dismiss me altogether? He’s being melodramatic. What arrogance. Or, maybe some guys could, but not me. Or, I don’t know . . . is this really worth it? That’s part of the battle, right there. See? I’m not making this up. ~~ John Eldredge, Wild at Heart (Thomas Nelson Publishers, Nashville, 2001). p.84-88. . .) continued , , , The Battle for a Man’s Heart IV
Posts with a preamble asterisk * are for a more general audience. . . . not specific to teachings of he Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
