Posted by
Paul Merriam on Thursday, July 26, 2007 4:27:26 PM
Dear Cyndi,
I'm finally catching up on old e-mail today (I was in Washington D.C. for most of last week) and I found out about your cousin Danny. "My cousin, Danny Pena, was severely injured by a roadside bomb last week while serving in Iraq. He suffered serious injuries to his arms and legs and is now undergoing surgeries and treatment at Walter Reed Hospital."
I joined (and do join) with countless others in prayer for this brave man who has sacrificed so much for Freedom.
It's somewhat abstract to pray for someone you have never met, EXCEPT that we know he is fully known to God above, and fully loved, and so with all that is within me let me say "Thank you Danny Peña; thank you for your service and your sacrifice--your willingness to give of yourself in a far away place to a far different people for their right and their fight to participate in the simple freedoms we hold so dear in our land over here. Thank you Danny for your willingness to not only believe in Freedom, given by God to all men, but your courage as well to actively resist the wicked forces of tyranny and bondage that try to crush Liberty and the pursuit of happiness. You are what our country is truly about, and I praise and thank you, and I pray God Almighty show you His mercy and His healing powers, and that He comfort you greatly in this time in your life, and I do so in the mighty name of Jesus Christ."
Last week I was in D.C. with arpproximately 4,000 other Christians (Christians United for Israel--CUFI) to entreat our Congressmen and women to continue our political, and financial, and military support for the only democracy, and America's only true ally in the Middle East, Israel. There were stirring speeches about the the insidious, encroaching dangers of Islamic Fundamentalism in Iran and Iraq and worldwide, and the sure necessity for the United States to wage this cruel war that is so unpopular, and reminders to be grateful for those like your cousin Danny who have pledged themselves to lay down not only their comforts, and their jobs, and most things that are familiar, but possibly even their lives for a cause greater than themselves.
It was a good and right thing for me to do; to travel across the country and participate bodily in a solemn display of solidarity and passion for the national ideals that gave birth to this rich, God-blessed land. Yet as good as this holy convocation of sincere, believing Christians from all fifty states, and four territories, and ten countries was, it pales in comparison to the actual, physical deeds of the brave men and women in our armed forces.
That said, let me tell you of the highlight of my experience (other than hearing Brigette Gabriel and Frank Gaffney--they were great--and John McCain and Newt Gingrich, great too!). But the most moving thing for me was at Reagan National Airport, preparing to fly back to Sacramento.
I had taken the Metro (Underground) from my way-too-elegant hotel with ample time to not be rushed at the airport. At Reagan I was coming down the escalator with my travel bag over my shoulder to the debarking level of the airport, and at the floor was an eating area with lots of tables around, and people eating and talking with one another. Immediately to the left of the escalator ramp was a small table with two black gentlemen, the older one of ample girth in a fine business suit, and the younger one a tall, lean man in clean, neat army fatigues. Nearing the bottom of the escalator I locked eyes with the soldier. We held eyes as I descended, and at the floor I took the two or three steps across to him and reached out my hand. Holding his hand with as firm a grip as I had, I simply said "Thank you for your service: God bless you."
I think he said "You're welcome; thank you", but my beating heart was so full I can't be sure. What I do know is that as I walked away I told God "Lord, I'm going to say that to every serviceman and servicewoman I see from now on."
It was a surprise to me.
Just before the Viet Nam War I had tried to join the army, but I was disqualified because of a bad leg. I didn't give military service much of a thought after that, and as the war in Southeast Asia commenced, and then dragged on--and on--I found myself caught up in the times and grew my hair and became a protester, even joining a march on the Capitol in D.C. in the late sixties. Not too many years afterward (1974) I was captured by Christ, and have sought to serve Him ever since then. And yes, I have heard conservative talk-radio hosts thanking servicemen and women for their service, and it seems good; I've even done it a few times myself. But this event was so unexpected, and so--holy--that I trust I won't ever be quite the same because of it.
Maybe that's why this letter isn't really to you alone Cindy. It's to every man and woman who has ever worn the uniform and agreed to put themselves in harm's way for freedom's sake--for that curious and noble call that inspires and beckons every heart and every ear that ever hears it--it's for liberty, and justice, for all.
And I think it was for me too.
Shalom to you, and Danny, and to all who love freedom.
Paul