Days of remembrance are not meant to be torture.
I see you, soldier.
I see your shoulders, squared in military discipline, weighed down with unthinkable memories. I don’t know what’s behind your eyes, but every once in a while I catch a runaway glimpse in your thousand yard stare. I see the pain bubble up, aged and potent. Old, yet raw.
There’s a hunger for absolution or amnesia that bisects your heart, sucks the oxygen out of your lungs.
I’m just a civilian, not a soldier. I get that I don’t get it.
I don’t know what you’ve seen. I don’t know what taunts you, what won’t let you sleep.
I don’t know what part of your heart has been ripped out and left to bake on foreign soil, or what scenes play through your mind and weigh you down with unbearable regret. I don’t know what ghosts accompany you when you’re alone, what phantom slithers through the rolodex of your mind. Scalding, searing, wounding, and relentless.
I don’t know.
But I do know something. Jesus knows.
You are defined by His scars, not yours.
At iBelieve today, I am privileged to honor our soldiers. Please join me!
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