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Life below decks
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the gift of a
Cross
Contact magazine is published by AFCU three times per year - Contact ISSN 1359 - 1726 - Registered Charity (No. 249636)
war -
what is the cost?
magazine for members of the armed forces
Spring 2013
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Contents I
used to love car journeys in the dark when I was younger, snuggled down under a blanket (that dates me, as our car heater didn’t work well in the back). I could tell myself stories, pretend I was travelling somewhere completely different and enter a world entirely in my imagination. When the car finally arrived home, I was so warm and cosy, wrapped up in a dream world, that I didn’t want to get out and face a chilly walk into the house...so I used to pretend to be asleep. I knew if I kept my eyes shut when they said: “We’re home”, my Dad would carry me in! But not all journeys are ones we enjoy. Some we just want to get through, some can be frustrating and others are plain scary. This issue of Contact has a lot about journeys and it’s something we can all associate with. Simon Farmer’s journey to Afghanistan was one he undertook as a pilgrimage and part 2 of his story is featured in this issue. An adventure with God is perhaps an even better description than pilgrimage and he certainly knew God’s presence with him all the way. Our new columnist, Steve Martin, shares his Christian life journey packed with stories and many memories of the people who made up his colourful time below decks in the Royal Navy.
God is God.
In the coming months Simon and I are preparing for another journey to a new posting in Cyprus. There are lots of decisions to be made about what to take and what to leave behind. Some of the preparations feel quite painful at times, but I am telling myself it will be OK once we’re there. As Christians we’re all on a journey of some sort, we’re all pilgrims. But the Christian journey isn’t just a matter of getting through the journey to the destination; how we live along the way is as important as what happens when we arrive. For pilgrims, travelling light seems to be a vital bit of advice, because if you are weighed down with baggage the journey is so much harder. We have been thinking about not taking too much to Cyprus and there is something very liberating in having ‘less stuff’. As Christian pilgrims it’s helpful to take stock on our journey, ask ourselves questions about what we are carrying and whether some things would be best left behind. That way we will be able to walk a bit taller and lift our heads to look up.
He made us, we didn’t make Him.
Below Deck by WO1(Retd) Steve Martin
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Afghanistan a spiritual journey part 2 by Padre Simon Farmer
The Gift of a Cross Reme metalsmiths create a new tradition
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The Ethics File The Cost of War by Dr Peter Lee
Regulars
I will lift up my eyes to the hills From whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth. Psalm 121
Rachel (Rachel and Simon Farmer, co-editors)
www.afcu.org.uk Psalm 100 The Message
If you wish to know more about what it means to be a Christian and/or how to become a Christian, find and ask your local chaplain or a Christian you may know or pick up the phone and ask the AFCU office 01252 311221
JP’s Blog Martin’s Memo Coffee Break & Reviews Caption Competition
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below by the ‘Church Chief’, WO1 (Retd) Steve Martin
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WO1 (Retd) Steve Martin
I never felt Him saying to me ‘you are a failure’ … but he did say stuff like ‘could do better’ and ‘try harder’
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Steve Martin joined the RN in January 1979 as a Weapons Engineering Artificer. He left in 2007 as a WO1, having served on numerous ships and establishments, mainly type 22 Frigates running out of Plymouth. He is married to Helen who was a Naval nurse and they have two sons. Since leaving the RN, he has been the Executive Secretary of the Naval Christian Fellowship, and is moving on to work for Christian Vision for Men as the Operations Director. 4 contact
n a Type 22 frigate returning from a six month deployment, the Senior Ratings were all mustered on the after Seawolf deck, looking to make eye contact with their loved ones on the jetty. And then I saw my wife Helen, with our 7 month old son Ben. As I looked I thought, “Blimey .. she’s gone grey since I’ve been away” and so I lifted my cap and pulled at my hair … thinking, “You’ve gone grey since I’ve been away”. Now her entire focus was on Ben, whom I had not seen for 6 months except in photos. She thought, “Oh that’s nice, he has noticed that Ben’s hair colour is the same as his”, so she started waving a seven month baby above her head, on the jetty as the ship came back, shouting “It’s yours ! It’s yours!” meaning the hair colour…you can imagine the reaction on the jetty and the ship … Separation and homecomings are a huge part of service life, and of course I had a fair few during my 28 years in the Royal Navy. And now I face yet another separation as God takes me from working directly with the military and this gives time to reflect on my years with the Forces. For most of my time in the Navy I was what some might call a ‘Bible basher’, a member of the ‘God squad’. You may know the sort of thing I mean - one ship and perhaps three quite ‘active’ Christians on board who used to meet together and who would enjoy going ashore to go to Church. Unbeknown to me however, every time I used to ring down the ‘Zoo’ (this is the ‘Seamen’s Mess’ for you nonmatelot types) to ask to speak to one of the others, they used to shout across the mess, “Hey, Jesus, its Moses on the phone for you.” You can’t take yourself too seriously and need to maintain a sense of humour … because as soon as you do something that is perceived to be not very Christian, your messmates are all over you! Like having one beer too many! It certainly keeps you on your toes. I remember we were alongside in Rhodes doing a handover for the Bosnia patrol during the 90s. My mate was on the ship that we were taking over from, so we agreed to go ashore for a meal. We had a
and then get to know Him better. And now I am transferring to work with Christian Vision for Men, which encourages men to step out and follow Christ and to let them know simply that Jesus is for them too. Sometimes it can feel that Christ and Christianity is just for the women because for some reason it is the women who are more likely to respond to the call of Christ than men. Christ is not just for wimps and kids, Christ is not just for women, He is for all.
downs, challenges and times when I’ve really let God down. However, I have grown to know and understand that God is real. He loves me just as I am, and as a result of that I want to live my life to tell others about him. I am on a journey with him and it can lead to places I haven’t yet dreamt about. This whole Christian journey thing was brought into sharp focus when we were alongside in West Palm Beach in 1985 and hooked up with some guys, including a cop called Pat. We were in his unmarked police car, when he said to us, “Anything you guys would like to do?” My mate said, “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to get pulled over by the Highway Patrol.” “OK,” says Pat, and off he went accelerating to over 100 mph on the highway, we were soon being chased by a couple of motorcycle cops, who pulled us over. Pat flashed his police sheriff’s badge and said, “These are two Brit sailors just wanted to be pulled over” ! We invited the two motorbike cops on board for a beer with our friend Pat. They gave me the police badge.
Some people who call themselves Christians can remember the date or moment they decided to follow Jesus, and for others it’s been a gradual journey of discovery. I was looking through some boxes of papers getting ready to move, and found loads of stuff including my joining and leaving routines for HMS Fisgard back in 1979, (with two boxes not stamped), my first pay chit from HMS Collingwood (£124 for a month), my original ‘pay book’, my first Divisional Officer’s report and loads of other stuff which included a couple of photos of me back then pre-beard ... anyway in amongst this stuff was a little card I signed when I became a Christian whilst at HMS Fisgard and a police badge. I remember the event but it was nothing dramatic. For me becoming a Christian has been a gradual process with ups and
One classic run ashore resulted in me swapping a pair of ‘pussers’ overalls for his genuine ‘Starsky and Hutch’ style magnetic blue cop light - the sort that you stick on the car roof. I still have all the memories but I had completely forgotten them until I saw the police badge and the memories flooded back. The little card, on the other hand, served to not only bring back memories of a particular moment in 1979, but has highlighted the difference. The cop badge and those stories at Palm Beach I had completely forgotten about, but the decision I made for Christ in 1979 changed my life. Although, like the badge, I put the card away, I could not put Jesus in the box as well. He has journeyed with me all the time. I guess the danger is we put Him in a box of memories up on a shelf somewhere. But it’s never too late to take Him off the shelf.
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beer in my mess, then walked down the jetty to his mess, while he went to get changed. Well, we never got ashore. Sat in his mess till about 0200. I then spent about 40 minutes snaking back up the jetty. By the time I reached our gangway the entire duty watch, most of my mess, the First Lieutenant and numerous others were on the Flight Deck to watch the lesser spotted ‘Church Chief’ (as I was known) come back on board rather the worse for wear! I was the talk of the ship the following day. But as a Christian we do get things wrong, we slip up, we make mistakes, we have bad days and shout and even on occasions may swear … but do you know what, in my time in the Navy, God never once let me down! I never felt Him saying to me “You are a failure”… he did say stuff like “Could do better”. and “Try harder” and “I understand the challenges you face”… but actually he said, “I like you a lot … in fact I love you just as you are..” Being a part of the ‘God squad’ on board also had its funny moments, mainly revolving around meeting up with Christians and visiting churches ashore in some foreign port. Once, when in Barbados, we went to a massive Church with about 4000 in the congregation. The pastor on the platform welcomed us as ‘the guys from the British warship’, and then asked one of us to come and bring greetings. I was stitched up to go to the front as the speaker and if you have been to the Caribbean you will know that the locals all dress up in their Sunday best for Church. And there was I making my way to the platform, in shorts, t-shirt and flipflops, trying desperately to at least get my shorts to cover my knees. The pastor even said ‘it’s a shame you didn’t dress for the occasion! But I will always remember the friendship, the welcome and hospitality of Churches and other Christians around the world. I know it’s a cliché, but we really do have family everywhere in the world, not to mention the free ‘scran’ and tours around the local area! Of course that’s not why I met up with those guys! Apart from visiting other churches around the world, one of the other things that the RN enabled me to do was run in loads of amazing places. I love to run. Once, with
my running mate ‘Chippy’ when we were in La Guira (the port for Caracas) we went out for a ten miler. As usual the port was in the decidedly dodgy area of town. We came off the ship, out of the port gate and turned right. It looked fine and we were only a mile away from the ship when Chippy said ‘is that gunfire?’. We ran on but it got louder and we realised people were shooting at each other across the road. A close shave. Another time we ran up the wrong mountain thinking it was Mount Vesuvius, and another time we ended up getting picked up by the police in Spain while running along a motorway. Being a Christian does not make us immune from these things. In fact most of them were probably my fault! I discovered that God does not control me like a robot and these along with more incidents served to remind me of that. God gives each of us a mind and ‘freewill’ to do stuff our way if we choose. It’s just that sometimes I thought my way was better, and didn’t really think about the consequences. When I left the Royal Navy as a Warrant Officer Class 1 in 2007 I took over running the Naval Christian Fellowship which does what it says on the tin. It’s a fellowship for Christians in the Navy. The Naval Christian Fellowship encourages guys and girls to get to know God through Jesus,
HMS Chatham in South Georgia
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Afghanistan Part 2: a Pilgrimage in Afghanistan by Padre Simon Farmer (HERRICK16)
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trapped into a US Marine helicopter we took off for CF Burma, FOB Ouellette from Camp Bastion and just twenty minutes later we were under fire with a .762 round through the helicopter as we were coming into land. My first contact with the Taliban and insurgents! The prayer that immediately sprung to mind was a version of St Patrick's Breastplate: Christ be with me, Christ within me Christ behind me, Christ before me Christ beside me, Christ to win me Christ to comfort and restore me. Christ beneath me, Christ above me Christ in quiet, Christ in danger Christ in hearts of those who love me Christ in mouth of friend and stranger. We landed safely. On arriving in the Upper Gereshke Valley, nicknamed ‘the Valley of Death’, the temperature soared to the high 40’s and the austere desert conditions soon began to suck out every ounce of energy from a soldier. The ground was as hard as rock and fine sand blew up in the smallest of winds creating dust clouds and occasional sand storms. It was so dry that if you poured water on the ground, you saw it soak up before your eyes. I was reminded that God, through His Holy Spirit, can break up the hardest ground including the stony ground of some soldiers’ spiritual lives as well as the rocky ground of Muslim hearts that the living light of Christ may one day shine in them.
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a spiritual journey I had a complete sense that God was present with us in this desert and I felt my prayer life and the reading of scripture became more real to me than back in the humdrum of UK life. During the course of any pilgrimage, you would expect to come across some special places and people. Within seconds of landing in FOB Ouellette I picked up my Bergen, black grip and day sack weighing in excess of 70Kg and stumbled off the ramp to be met by the camp Sergeant Major. A short brief explained the actions when an IDF attack took place and I was directed to my first special place. It was God's Shed, a place to pray and a place of refuge in God. The Shed was in fact a very small wooden chapel dedicated to St Martin of Tours, the patron saint of soldiers. How important it is to find an oasis in the desert and the shed was just that, a spiritual oasis. It was a perfect place to be situated, on the edge of a desert and on the edge of an evil part of the world. The Shed would become a place of refuge for me and the soldiers who visited. I read Joshua 20 and discovered God's plan to create ‘cities of refuge' centuries ago, a plan that clearly flowed from the very character of God himself. For He is our refuge and this Shed was God’s refuge for us. It was a most beautiful shed and had God's peace and presence and the fragrance of Christ within it. It was a warm place, carpeted with some simple lighting. Votive candles were alight on the stand after soldiers had come in to pray earlier. There was a
prayer board where soldiers had written their various prayer requests, there were Bible verses on the walls and a wall of remembrance to the soldiers who had lost their lives in CF Burma. Soldiers would come and sit outside the Shed and to my surprise just about every soldier would pull out a packet of fags and offer them around. Smoking is what many soldiers do on a stressful tour - I now understood the ministry of Padre Studdert Kennedy, known as Woodbine Willie, who in WWI gave Woodbine cigarettes to soldiers along with spiritual help and comfort. With fag in hand, the boys would find it easier to share their story and I would listen and make them coffee and share in something of their journey. As Padre I would offer a cup of real coffee and some Jamaican Ginger cake (a great favourite regularly sent out by a group of ladies from my church) or a bottle of cold water or a can of cold Fanta from my fridge. Others came inside the Shed to pray or to light a candle in the place where I dared believe that earth met with heaven. Some nights we would stare up into the brilliant bright starry night and have a sense of awe and wonder which put our war back into perspective! God was bigger than all of this. He is in control and we need not fear. On some nights we would watch a film in the Shed. The Shed was that special place and as on all pilgrimages we had found a safe place to pause and ponder, rather than always feeling a need to press
on. It was a place of prayer, where the walls had been soaked with praise. And it was a place where someone said that God waits for us. Like many a pilgrimage it was at times very hard, taking me well out of my comfort zone most days, but I learned to pray, "Lord guide me through the wilderness and protect each of us through the storm". This journey was also about the places that I would travel to as well as the people I would meet. As on any journey there are times when I would stop, to focus on something of God's creation, to take in nature's immense beauty or to send an arrow prayer up for someone I had just met or watch the local people go about their daily lives. Before leaving on another part of the pilgrimage to visit a checkpoint I would spend time praying. Travel was in a Mastiff, Husky, Jackal, Warthog, Wolfhound or my favourite, the Warrior. The boys would collect me from the Shed checking that I had my goggles, gloves, body armour, helmet, day sack with sleeping bag and toothbrush in case we couldn’t get back! Then they would ask enquiringly, “have you any welfare parcels to take to the boys, Padre?” Friends and churches had sent them out. Strapped into the vehicle, feet firmly on the floor in case we hit an IED, then there was less chance of an ankle breaking. Having dished out some sweets to my fellow passengers I would close my eyes to pray. It was often quite dark, noisy and very hot in the back of a vehicle. My job was clearly to pray that the vehicle would be guided through the desert and avoid all the IEDs that had been seeded by the Taliban. On arrival at one base a soldier said, "Padre, it was like having a giant St Christopher in the vehicle”. They told me they never felt safer than when the padre travelled with them and so my vehicle often became the lead vehicle! ‘Thanks Boys!’. Like any pilgrimage, travel was rarely comfortable and I felt vulnerable. It was often a very slow journey but it gave me time to talk with God and also to hear His voice. The journey was very much about the people. I met the most amazing colourful people from all walks of life, nations and cultures, even though in my case they were people that wore an outer green skin. All these encounters were divine appointments and everyone I met on my journey was a gift, even the difficult people or those who might chin you off! Fortunately they were few and far between, but they were there. Other people that were particularly precious on my journey were those who wrote to me from home. A number of people shared their lives with me as I journeyed and I received hundreds of
emails and letters. Every letter was very special, some gave me spiritual workouts, one lady from church sent me a bluey with seven thoughts, one for each day of the week. Each morning I used the Celtic daily prayer and would often pray, "Be in the heart of each to whom I speak and in the mouth of each who speaks to me". When we embark on any journey the times of rest are very important too. Not only R and R (two weeks back to UK) but daily stops too. I learnt that I needed to stop and rest and reflect each day and learn from its lessons. There was a rhythm of travelling and rest each day. It was great too that running was banned unless you were running for cover - partly because someone running might induce extra anxiety and fear in others. It made me think we often rush too much. Sometimes on a journey we get lost or fail to find shelter, for me I had to share my tent with mice, ants, camel spiders, and had the constant danger of IDF being fired at us. Sand storms covered us in dust, and the sun would try and burn us up. It reminded me that on life's pilgrimage no one is exempt from suffering and the price people pay may be great. But life is an adventure and as Simon Guillebaud once said, "As Christians we need to be dangerously alive". We can live with risk because 'safety is not the absence of danger but the presence of God'. As Christians there is no guarantee of safety but we do know that Christ will be in it with us. The journey will lead you to meet other people, fellow companions on the way, and just maybe you are their encouragement for the day. As we live a life of prayer, I discovered that God blows us to those whom he wants us to encounter. My daughter said to me as I left for Afghanistan, "Dad are you going as a speed boat or a sailing boat?" She explained that if I was to go as motor boat, I switch on the engine and drive to whoever I want to see, but if I am a yacht every morning I am to put up the sails by praying and reading the Bible and then when the sails are up God would blow me to those He wants me to meet. That was the best bit of advice I can remember anyone giving me! It worked too. Thank God for daughters
who understand spiritual things. Each day I was blown to this person and that person or they would come across my path. So at the end of the day I could make a note of those I had met and hold them in prayer. They might have been a soldier on guard, or someone in the cookhouse, or the Muslim shopkeeper who supplied me with a cold can of coke. This experience has changed me as any pilgrimage will change you. My prayer during it was: "Bless to me, O Lord, the earth beneath my feet. Bless to me, O Lord, the path I tread. May my walk this day be with the Father, May my walk this day be with the Son, May my walk this day be with the Holy Spirit." The hardest thing in doing the pilgrimage alone was saying goodbye to my family at the beginning. So I would pray a special prayer for them and us each day. "May the road rise to meet us, may the wind be always be at our back, may the sun shine upon our face, and the rain fall softly on our fields. Until we meet again, may God hold us in the hollow if his hand." The pilgrimage lasted 198 days and God kept His promise and was with me all the time. To see soldiers come to faith, to watch some come back to God and for some to find God for the first time, has been so rewarding. Being shot at or hit by stones thrown by local Muslim kids is hard and there is only so much sponge in all of us to soak up that stuff. But worse than all of that, is feeling the apathy of some soldiers towards God and knowing that they are missing out on a relationship with the Living God. I am now wondering where God’s way will take me next? May your next journey with God take you to some special people and places too.
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the gift of a
cross
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At least eighteen hours of work go into the making of every cross... each carefully and painstakingly created
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n the other side of Easter, as Christians we look to the empty cross. The Empty Cross can be seen as a symbol of shame and disgrace or one of pride and boasting and a sign to a shore beyond. Out on an Operation HERRICK Operational tour, I saw many a soldier carrying a symbol of the cross with them, writes Simon Farmer. It seems by carrying that symbol they hope and pray God will be looking down on them favourably. Crosses made of olive wood, or dog tags with the cross etched out or a crucifix are often carried by soldiers. As chaplains, we all wear a sign of the cross on our uniform and some have the cross on their day sacks for all to see. In Camp Bastion last year I came across a remarkable set of soldiers from the REME (Metalsmiths) in Camp Bastion who have created a new tradition recently, by making and sending off a brass cross to every family who has suffered the loss of having a British soldier killed. This has been a tradition since HERRICK 12. The cross is made of five 30mm brass shell casings and a 105mm shell as the base. They now come in a specially made wooden lined box with a green felt liner. And the most recent ones may even have a Bible verse included.
At least 18 hours’ work goes into the making of every cross. Many of the families that receive the cross may not know that each cross is carefully and painstakingly created. Sometimes it takes much longer, as any imperfection in the cross - only visible after hours of polishing - will cause that part of the cross to be discarded. If you were to watch the soldiers at work you would see the greatest care being taken to create the perfect brass cross to give to the family. The soldiers carefully polish and rivet the shell casings together so that you can almost see yourself in it. The soldiers working on each cross clearly take great pride as they see it as their contribution to saluting fallen comrades. They create the cross above and beyond their daily work load and so, if more than one soldier dies in a week, that becomes an even greater burden to get the crosses ready in time to accompany the deceased soldier on repatriation.
eternal world exists outside, not limited to the present and the visible. The Christian faith is absolutely concerned with the future and the invisible. Faith is "being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (Heb 11.1). During His ministry Jesus predicted His death at least 11 times. He fulfilled the prophecy that He was to die on the cross, as St John made clear in John’s gospel chapter 9:33-42.Then He was buried and on the third day He rose again. The cross is the symbol of Christianity and a sign pointing to faith in Jesus Christ. Justin Martyr in the second century confessed that wherever he looked he saw the cross in everyday things. People today might say a similar thing as they glimpse the shape of the cross, perhaps in a telegraph pole or a mast on a ship. The empty cross points beyond death to the hope that there is life after death for all who choose to accept the Way of Christ.
Why the Cross? Every religion has its visual symbol which tends to illustrate a significant feature of its history or belief. A universally acceptable Christian emblem needed to speak of Jesus Christ and the chosen symbol became the simple cross. From the second century Christians not only drew, painted and engraved the cross as their symbol, but also made a sign of the cross on themselves. The choice of a cross, which was a means of execution for the Son of God, seems surprising given the horror with which crucifixion was regarded in the ancient world and the connection with not only death, but with crime and shame. In the first letter to the Corinthians (1 Cor 1:18), Paul said the message of the cross was foolishness but to those being saved it is the power of God. It was revealing that just a few years ago an Easter poll of 16-30 year olds in Britain found that 40 per cent did not know that Jesus died on what is now known as Good Friday. A Christian understands, believes and knows that although the Son of God died on the cross, He rose from the dead and then ascended into heaven where He reigns to this day. There is a myth that the ancient Greek philosopher Plato tells of some people trapped in a cave. The myth goes that they spent their whole time looking at shadows on the wall. The cave dwellers think that the cave and the shadows are the total reality. Everyone else knows they are wrong, for there is a real world outside the cave. It is just like that in Western Europe. Millions are trapped in the ‘Cave of Secularism’, for example. They think this life is all there is. And it is a sad and dark world to be trapped inside when an
PT Forsyth (1909) said, "you do not understand Christ until you understand the cross". The cross reminds us of our own crucifixion. Paul said in his letter to the Galatians 2:20, "We have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live but Christ lives in me". And in Galatians 5:24 St Paul says, "Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires". Paul finishes his letter to the Galatians ( 6:14) by saying "May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me and I to the world." St Paul's whole world revolved around the cross. To be a Christian is to be committed to Jesus Christ as Lord. But you can't just say, "Jesus is Lord" and believe anything you like. You have to, “Believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead". That there is an empty cross... that Jesus didn't just die but rose from the dead and overcame death. The cross in one sense remains a mystery to many, but it is the Christian symbol throughout the world. The Cross can and does offend some but Christ and God are not about offering a safe and comfortable Christianity. The soldiers in Camp Bastion, who through the HERRICK tours have worked long hours, often in intense heat and uncomfortable conditions making the brass crosses, have done a most extraordinary thing. Their gift of the empty cross - the symbol of Christian hope of life beyond death - to the families of the fallen heroes is an amazing message of hope and love in the face of suffering. In the brass cross we can see the power behind the symbol of the cross as a sign to the eternal shore beyond, with Christ in heaven. contact 9
the cost of war
experienced the gut-wrenching strain of someone wrestling with their vocal chords and an uncooperative nervous system. I had also learned not to jump in and finish off words and sentences, thereby adding indignity to frustration and embarrassment. “S...s...s...s...s...stay...” The first word fought its way out. “Don’t worry,” I responded, “I’ll stay on the line. Just try to breathe slowly and speak when you feel ready. I won’t go anywhere.” By that time I knew what was happening and although I didn’t know whom I was speaking to, I knew what their profession was, or at least had been: a soldier. It was one of several telephone calls I received of that type during my years as a military chaplain. The next 30 minutes passed by in almost complete silence. The caller’s breathing slowed and became shallower. Every so often he gave in to the reflex to fill his lungs to capacity, not with one continuous inhalation but in five or six hesitant steps, much like a child regaining his or her composure after a good oldfashioned screaming tantrum. But he would hold the air in place for a few seconds and slowly exhale, determined to exercise control over his own body once more. What horror was he reliving in his mind that could reduce a proud former fighting man to an incoherent wreck?
by Dr Peter Lee
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he voice on the other end of the line was deep and rasping. Though no words punctuated the rapid heavy breathing, the deep timbre of the inhalations and exhalations suggested an older man. The roughness at the edges of the breaths betrayed the discomfort of throaty phlegm. I’d never experienced a heavy breather on the telephone before and it was seriously unsettling. Options rattled through my mind. Find a whistle to blow down the mouthpiece of my own handset, thereby deafening the pervert at the other end (except I knew I had no such whistle). Heavy breathe back (no, that might double whatever kind of sick pleasure he was getting). Opt for some ‘industrial’ language and tell him what I thought – it could have been my wife or daughters that
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picked up the phone (an appealing, if rather unchristian option). Put the phone down. While I was weighing up the relative merits of the latter two options I was sure I detected an effort to try and slow down the rapid panting. In addition, a new noise joined the horrible cacophony in my ear. After the gulps of air came three or four glottal interruptions and I realized that the person at the other end of the line was fighting – literally, with every breath – to get a word, or words, out. I felt ashamed of my instant assumption about the caller, an assumption that probably says something about the way my mind works and which I probably don’t want to explore too deeply. A childhood friend had suffered from a severe stammer so I had
Every few minutes I would offer a word or two, “Take your time ... I’m still here ... there’s plenty of time ... don’t worry, you’re not on your own.” The last comment was clearly a lie. The reason he had called my number was exactly because he was on his own with his demons and desperately needed allies in the battle against them. In the United States, veterans’ organizations sprang up during and after the Vietnam War to deal with this exact kind of scenario and many more besides. The UK had managed to steer clear of that particular military venture but the 1982 Falklands Conflict, though vastly smaller in scale, has been throwing up damaged soldiers and marines ever since, much of their help coming from military charities. One particular statistic points to an ominous future for many of the combat veterans of the two countries – the US and the UK – that have spearheaded military operations in Afghanistan and Iraq over the past 12 years. In the war of 1982, 255 British combatants were killed. In the three decades since an even higher number of those who fought in that war, around 300, have
committed suicide. These statistics are mirrored on the Argentine side. My caller had fought at Goose Green: once in 1982, then for no discernible reason, almost daily in recent years. In 1880, during a speech at Columbus, Ohio, General William Tecumseh Sherman provided one of the great descriptions of war, “There is many a boy here today who looks on war as all glory, but boys, it is all hell.” No-one, poet, philosopher or biblical author – either before or since – has so succinctly summed up what the pursuit of victory in battle actually looks like. At the same time as society romanticizes war and pins medals on the chests of men and women who are held up as heroes, it frequently neglects the ones who were unfortunate enough to trip the improvised explosive device, watch a friend die or endure silent, hidden mental trauma. History is consistent when it comes to the treatment of those who have fought the battles and bear the wounds, visible and invisible. It ignores them. Once the gunfire ceases and the dust settles, politicians have no further use for the professional men and women of violence until the next emergency. Worse, the wounded and injured soldiers with their missing limbs, damaged minds and broken spirits become an embarrassment to political establishments that only want to be associated with a positive narrative and good election prospects. I have looked into the eyes of those who have experienced Sherman’s hell and listened to the halting breaths of the individuals whose minds continually recreate their worst nightmare like an iPod set to ‘repeat’. It is an uncomfortable, if not downright hideous thought that God weeps for the parents of a suicide bomber in the same way as he weeps
the ethics file
for the parents of the bomber’s target. That’s what it means to acknowledge that we have all fallen short of the glory of God.
The cost of war is traditionally counted in terms of blood and treasure. The amount spent on the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars if spent in other ways might well have discovered an alternative for oil or a cure for cancer. Or it could have provided healthcare and shelter for the homeless, many of whom, ironically, are the embodiment of the physical, emotional and mental wreckage of previous wars. The cost of war is also to be found in a hardening of the heart towards our enemies, in the dehumanizing of those who fight on both sides, in the faith of Christians whose loyalties are torn between the priorities of earthly states they inhabit and the Kingdom of God they serve, and in the delusion of those who see the two as one and the same. Perhaps pay attention the next time you see a dirty, unkempt, crazy-eyed guy shuffling down the road with a bottle in his hand, stopping periodically to converse with passing commuters or strutting pigeons that happen to be in the vicinity. There’s a good chance that he got that way as a result of serving his country in uniform. Then you might think about how you’d feel if he shuffled into your church on a Sunday morning. And if for some reason he calls you on the telephone, perhaps don’t hang up. Dr Peter Lee is a King’s College London Lecturer in Air Power Studies based at the Royal Air Force College, Cranwell where he specializes in the ethics of war. Dr Lee is also a minister in the Methodist Church and from 2001-2008 served as a Royal Air Force chaplain.
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society... frequently neglects the ones who were unfortunate enough to watch a friend die or endure silent, hidden mental trauma
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J P ’s B l o g L i v i n g
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hree things last forever: FAITH, HOPE and LOVE. Less than six months out of the RAF’s Officer training college at Cranwell I found myself at a small station in North Yorkshire undertaking the first of many courses of flying training. Sitting in the aircrew ‘feeder’ the whole course were enjoying their greasy breakfasts before the Squadron brief and were in deep conversation tackling the questions of life. They delved into my understanding of life, the universe and everything... ‘I cannot believe they let people like you into positions of authority like you are!’ came one incredulous and slightly hostile retort to me saying that I thought there was an alternative to the Big Bang. The whole table fell silent and stopped eating, waiting to see my reaction. Shocked and a little perturbed by the candour of his statement I only managed to mumble a pathetic response. This was not my finest moment of Christian apologetics (how we defend what we believe) but it set me thinking about my faith. I was, and am, entirely confident in my beliefs – so why could I not justify them then? What is it that I believe and why? And how can I validate those beliefs to friends who have never seriously considered them? ‘Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see’ (Hebrews 11:1), so, how can we be confidently hopeful? And where do we get our assurance that what we do not see is even there? These can be hard questions to answer and if we do not grapple with them now, we will, when looking into the face of somebody’s fairly difficult
t h e
F a i t h
A three part look at why we believe from 1 Corinthians 13
interrogation, fare no better than I did in that breakfast hall. My mobile has a monster case, a thick rubber hard shell of vibration resistant plastic so big that I need a man-bag to carry it. I am 100% confident in its ability to withstand anything that I would throw at it, a trust that is borne out of research and testing by the manufacturer and more than a few mishaps by me. In the same way it is what I have heard from trusted sources and experienced myself that leads me to the conclusion that I can have a confident assurance in Christ. Like a lot of people today, with more information available from our phones than our grandparents had in their lifetimes, I like facts and am not overly impressed by rumour and I love to have things proved to me. When I first became a Christian I made the whole truth of Christ wrap around my worldview making the two co-exist with an emphasis on the ‘what we know now’. But when challenged to examine the debate from both sides I saw that there was a whole raft of scientific theory that directly suggests the existence of God and even goes to support a large number of the Bible’s claims.
For instance, if you substitute the Big Bang with a White Hole, the age of the universe is calculated to be roughly what the Bible suggests. The historical evidence is overwhelming; as one after the other eminent historians line up to support the Bible’s account of world history and archaeological digs have verified much of the recorded history of the Bible. Historical records prove there was a census around the time of Jesus’ birth and record the trial of Christ by Pontius Pilate. I would encourage anyone to look at how you back up what you believe, whether you have the strongest faith or none at all. What is it that you put your trust in and what assurances do you have that you are right? I’m not saying you need to throw away a theory of a multi-billion year old universe but I would hope we could all have a firm foundation of what we believe and why, so that when you’re in the hot seat you don’t sit there, like I did, mumbling feeble responses to genuine questions. However, no matter how much I have come to lean on these evidences and theories both in support of my own faith and when explaining why I have it to others, no scholarly work will ever help you rely on Christ as your personal Saviour. Only your experience of Him can do that, and that is what we will be looking at in the next edition of ‘Contact’ through the lens of hope.
Living Life by Flight Lieutenant Jonny JP Palmer jonnyandhayley@hotmail.com
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I
like running. I started this strange passion when I was serving in the Navy during my first ever deployment (which was to the Gulf back when Long John Silver had two legs and an egg on his shoulder). I suppose it came out of boredom really, the alternatives were watching porn or drinking copious amounts of beer in the mess. For those who have never run around the upper-deck of a frigate or destroyer it’s approximately 11 or 12 laps to the mile, with sharp turns to go across the pointy or blunt bits, coupled with metal decks, it’s simply not the best training environment for long distance running! (I once slipped whilst crossing the pointy bit and ended up with my legs over the side holding onto the bottom guardrail, much to the amusement of everyone else, who did eventually help me back up … thankfully this was premobile phones so no photographic evidence exists!). But still, I used to clock 100 laps some evenings ... and you have to alternate clockwise / anticlockwise each night so as to put equal strain on the joints or something (well that’s what the PTI told us anyway). Training whilst deployed had its plusses, I have run in some of the most amazing places in the world and had some ‘interesting’ experiences in the process. Whilst in Tampa, we ran along the main promenade around the bay. There were always loads of people out, either running, power walking or roller blading (that was quite amusing actually because all the ‘pretty people’, mostly female, were out jogging and mysteriously, lots more of the ship’s company took up jogging, normally very closely behind some of these rather attractive women … matelots, shallow? Never!). One afternoon, me and my running partner gradually became aware that we were the only two on the prom. All the locals had gone. Then we realised why as the lightning started, with numerous ground strikes around where we were. So it was up revs and get back on board quick! Life is very much like a race (in fact the Bible talks quite a bit about running a race, and reaching the finishing line, and receiving the victor’s crown etc). I don’t know about you, but life can sometimes feel like a sprint, or a marathon or steeplechase (or even a ‘Tough Mudder’ … now they are mad), and at times it seems like we are dodging lightning strikes!
Martin’s Memo
the race of life Over the years I have run lots of races including several marathons, some relatively flat with thousands of runners and others with just a few hundred runners over ‘undulating’ terrain. I am getting in training for another this year (in Snowdonia!). It’s at this stage in the preps that I start asking the ‘Why?’ question and my wife reminds me that after my first marathon 20 odd years ago I said ‘If I ever say I’m going to do another one … shoot me!”. Even though I run most days, the next few months will be a challenge. There will be days when it’s hammering down with rain and blowing a hoolie and I really won’t want to go out of the door. There will be times when I just want to walk up that hill, or call a cab when I’m 10 miles away from home. I expect I will pick up injuries, hopefully only little niggles, but you never know! But there will also be those amazing runs in perfect weather when I feel like I’m floating on air (and not the Nike variety), where the scenery just blows me away or when I run with a training
partner. One of the things that I am looking forward to this time is that another guy has signed up to run the marathon with me. So we will be training together. We will be urging each other on. Dragging each other round and sharing those bottles of water at 15 miles. We want to cross the finishing line together. For me life is a bit like this, and the Bible talks about running life’s race with the best training partner. God wants to share with us the ups and downs, the awful weather, the amazing scenery as we run through the countryside, even on occasion dodging lightning bolts and he wants to be there to support us when we twist our ankle ten miles out! With no disrespect to my wife who wonderfully encourages me from the roadside come rain or shine, if we ask Him He will run alongside us on this incredible journey of life!
by Steve Martin Operations Director Christian Vision for Men contact 13
competition
coffee break
Les Miserables L es Miserables, originally a French historical novel by Victor Hugo published in 1862, is set against the backdrop of 19th-century France. The film with Anne Hathaway and Russell Crowe, tells an enthralling story of broken dreams and unrequited love, passion, sacrifice and redemption - a timeless testament to the survival of the human spirit. Ex-prisoner Jean Valjean is hunted for decades by the ruthless policeman Javert after he breaks parole. When Valjean agrees to care for factory worker Fantine's young daughter, Cosette, their lives change forever. The film explores a number of central Christian themes, including forgiveness, hope and redemption. The line everyone seems to remember is 'to love another person is to see the face of God.’ The
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redemptive aspect in Les Miserables is powerful. The film is a parable that clearly conveys the difference between the Bible's Old Testament, where man is dependent upon the laws of God in order to find deliverance, and the New Testament's revelation of God's sacrifice that paid our sin debt. It has been said that ‘Les Mis’ is a hundred sermons in one: grace, sin, legalism, courage, love, hope, revenge, adoption, greed, decadence, dreams and hunger for a nobler world. How rare it is in contemporary drama, art and music that God and key moral issues are ever considered with any meaningful theological basis.
offee with God is a unique collection of 165 reflections on the Psalms, which is enough for six a week, for a six month duration, the typical length of a deployment. Drawing on the range of themes expressed by the psalmists, the 28 authors ( all AFCU members) show us what grace under pressure looks like as they write frankly about their own experience of service life. It isn't cranky, boring, nor does it lecture. Buy it, and be pleasantly surprised. It is written by
military women for women to draw them further into their journey of faith. CWR £8.99
Contact AFCU (Armed Forces’ Christian Union) Havelock House, Barrack Rd, Aldershot, Hants GU11 3NP Tel 01252 311221 E mail: office@afcu.org.uk NCF (Naval Christian Fellowship) Rodney Block, HMS Nelson, HM Naval Base, Portsmouth, Hants PO13HH Tel 07766257211 Email: ncf@dial.pipex.com SASRA (Soldiers’ and Airmen’s Scripture Readers Assoc.) Havelock House, Barrack Road, Aldershot, Hants GU11 3NP Tel 01252 310033 Email: hq@sasra.org.uk MMI (Military Ministries International) Havelock House, Barrack Rd, Aldershot, Hants GU11 3NP Tel 01252 311222 Email: headoffice@m-m-i.org.uk www.acctsmmi.com
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“Whose bright idea was this anti-gravity cheat to win the gun race?” CK
£25 e Priz
What is happening in the photo on the left? Send in your Caption as soon as you can to win £25 ... Thank you to all of you for entering this competition. Congratulations to the winner. Please send your caption to sim.j.farmer@gmail.com before 30 June 2013.
the Big Read
A deeply moving film for an older audience and as one army Padre said, ‘you could show this film a number of Sundays instead of preaching’!
taking coffee with God
what a pic!
What is the Armed Forces’ Christian Union (AFCU)? AFCU is one of a number of British military Christian fellowships. It is a tri-service, interdenominational fellowship of Christians who wish to grow in their faith and share it with those with whom they serve.
Who can join? Anyone who believes in prayer to God through our Lord Jesus Christ, and who is willing to pray regularly for the spiritual welfare of the Armed Forces, is welcome as a member. Those serving in regular, territorial or reserve sections of the Royal Navy, Royal Marines, Army or Royal Air Force join as Serving Members. All others join as Associate Members.
What will it mean to me? Members receive regular mailings of Contact magazine and AFCU News & Views and are linked to various digital means of resources. Various events and holidays are held throughout the year.
Will it cost me anything? The Union does not have a membership subscription. However, Members are asked to contribute to cover the literature they receive and all further gifts will allow the AFCU to grow and function.
Rowan Williams’ book, The Lion’s World, is short but full of deep insights. It is a journey into the heart of Narnia stories. It’s a journey of appreciation where you find yourself accompanied by an expert guide who gracefully and generously explores the theological and literary treasures of Lewis’ imagination. In Narnia, Williams says that Lewis is doing nothing less than ‘trying to recreate for the reader what it is like to encounter God’. He makes the point that ‘there is no church in Narnia, no religion even’. A terrific book for all Narnia fans. SPCK £8.99
Tim Keller, in Every Good Endeavour, turns his focus to the world of work. As ever, a great writer producing a rich book rooted in a Biblical understanding of the essential goodness of work contrasted with the burden it has become in a fallen world. These two themes are drawn together and brought to resolution in a deep understanding of the Christian gospel. For anyone who wishes to get to grips with the meaning and purpose of work or views their own work as unrewarding or all-consuming, this book will prove a great inspiration. Hodder & Stoughton £12.99 (hardback)
The Nail, by Stephen Cottrell, is a short spiritual book. In imagination and with Christian love the author explores the various characters around the crucifixion. Its language is modern and its insights revealing. Key witnesses describe Christ's crucifixion from their points of view. Each character considers the part he or she played in hammering the nails into Jesus. Each highlights a particular characteristic of spiritual temptation and draws the reader into a compassionate understanding of the Biblical character. SPCK £6.99
Cross Roads, by WM Young, who wrote The Shack, makes you think more deeply about your life. It is an incredibly complex and ambitious book. The book explores the `in-between' spaces at life's end, through the experience of Tony who is rich, successful, selfish and arrogant: and in a coma. The narrative moves between an invisible world, in which Tony meets with God in various forms and learns deep truths about himself, and the visible world. Young is relentlessly orthodox is his efforts to understand life's ultimate questions. If you liked The Shack, this is for you. Hodder & Stoughton £17.99 (hardback)
How do I join? You can apply for membership on the AFCU website www.afcu.org.uk. Or you can email office@afcu.org.uk or phone 01252 311221 and ask for a membership form.
Photographs © Crown Copyright from www.photos.mod.uk are reproduced with the permission of the Controller of Her Majesty’s Stationery Office. All photographs are copyright. Every effort is made to trace copyright holders of the images reproduced. We apologise for any unintentional omission and would be pleased to insert appropriate acknowledgement in the next issue. Please note: 1.Pictures of service men and women and those not members of the AFCU reflect our prayers and support to all members of the Armed Forces. 2.Not all articles are the view of the AFCU General Committee.
Contact Editorial Team: Sqn Ldr S Priestnall RAF, Mrs S Sandy, Mrs Y Cobbold, AFCU staff, The Editors
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