Stand at attention when you talk to ME!

Col Wood told me that I could direct my role as a chaplain as I thought best.  Well, I really had no idea of what chaplains really did.  I mean, I knew what I had seen in war movies—holding religious services in the field, giving last rites, and . . . ?  Hmm . . . I was stumped.  Since I wasn’t a Catholic priest, I wouldn’t be giving anyone last rites.  I supposed that there would be the occasional service to conduct, but that would probably fall to the officers, and I had never really been interested in conducting religious rituals anyway. 

For me, it was all about personal relationship with God.  I was interested in theology, what Col Thieme called “bible doctrine.”  Therefore, I saw myself giving counsel, leading biblical studies, and helping people to pray for themselves.  I understood every believer to be a believer-priest.  That meant that you didn’t need me to pray for you, rather I would teach you how to pray (talk to God) for yourself.  Admittedly, this was a severely limited view of the chaplain’s function, but my understanding of relationship with God was restricted to a saving relationship with God through Christ.  As far as I saw it, the way to God was the way I got there.  There were no other “ways.”  As a “born-again” Christian, I refused to recognize the validity of any approach to God that did not begin with that born-again experience.

And, since I had totally bought into Thieme’s view of the importance of bible doctrine and his dismissal of other pastor-teachers who did not share his perspective, I was dismissive of just about every other Christian teacher.  I thought that my mastery of Thieme’s systematic theology made me a biblical scholar and a religious expert.  I was arrogant, but didn’t know it.  I was uneducated with regard to my own ignorance.  I was headstrong and absolutely convinced of whatever I was convinced of!

I was the prototypical Thiemite—totally persuaded by his teaching and totally committed to living that teaching out in my life.  Pegi was with me on this, and lest you think we were just total assholes, (Oh yeah—profanity was common among Thieme’s followers!), most Rhodesians actually found our confidence refreshing, especially since we reinforced their political positions.  Because we were so well received and I could win any argument, we were blissfully ignorant of our own limitations. 

You may be thinking that it was just us, but I would submit that we are all dogmatic fools in our own ways.  We just don’t know what we don’t know!  And, if we have religious or other authorities affirming our ignorant assumptions, our only hope is to have life prove us wrong.  At least for Pegi and me, our Rhodesian experience was the first of many experiences that would prove our assumptions wrong.  Often our assumptions, principles, teachings, beliefs, norms or standards don’t stand the test of experience. 

The question then becomes whether we can be honest enough with ourselves to recognize our own bankrupt thinking and if we then have the courage to change.  Rhodesia would challenge many of our core beliefs.  Rhodesia changed us.

But as I jumped into a camouflage-painted Land Rover to visit RLI for the first time as a chaplain, I was happily unaware of my ignorance.  This was my first official action as a chaplain.  A trooper from 3 Commando had gotten into a fight at a Salisbury bar.  Now, that wasn’t particularly noteworthy.  After all, these were some pretty tough guys and drunken brawls are not uncommon in armies worldwide.  In his case, he had gone a bit overboard and broken the jaw of a police officer.  He was spending some time in “The Box,” the RLI jail at Cranborne Barracks, until his case was handled by the local authorities.  He had requested a visit from a chaplain.  Col Wood thought that I would be able to relate effectively to RLI troopers, so he sent me.

The last time I had been at Cranborne, I had been without rank—a recruit.  Today I was wearing three stripes on my sleeve.  Following the RLI tradition, I had a tailor make my stripes out of camouflage material.  The idea was that camo stripes could be worn in the bush or on base alike.  The stripes were visible, but did not jump out at you as did the white stripes worn on office or dress uniforms.  You could see them, but you kind of had to look for them.

I drove up to the RLI gate, prepared to show my orders to the RP on duty.  I stopped the Land Rover and waited for the guard to approach.  It was my old RP buddy—the one who had accosted me for walking and again when he approached me in civilian clothes as I waited outside the motor pool office.  He saw my familiar face and began to growl:

What the hell are you doing here  . . . [seeing my stripes and jumping to attention] . . . Sergeant?

It was the most satisfying moment of my military career to that point!  I could have barked at him, “Stand at attention when you talk to me!”  But here he was, already at attention, with a grimace replaced by a faint smile and the growl replaced by respect.

Hey, Sarge!  Congrats on the promotion!  How can I help? 

Showing him my orders, I explained that I needed to visit the trooper in the Box.  He showed me where to park and personally escorted me in for my visit.  Every time from then on when I would visit RLI, I seemed to run into him and he seemed to take pleasure in treating me with respect.  It was like one of his children had grown up!

This was the first of many experiences that I would have in Rhodesia (later Zimbabwe) where a former enemy became an ally.   

My miscreant trooper was a tall, red-headed kid, maybe 19.  As I sat down with him in the cell, he seemed surprised to get a chaplain who was an American and who also used profanity like a soldier.  He asked me to pray for him.  Of course, that punched one of my doctrinal buttons, so I explained that all believers in Christ were believer-priests and could pray for themselves.  I also doubted that members of mainline Christian denominations were “really born-again” (the result of my Jesus Freak background combined with the exclusivity fomented at Berachah), so I asked him if he believed Jesus had died for his sins.  When he said that he did believe that, I led him in a prayer to “receive Christ as his personal savior” and told him that he could pray for himself! 

To my surprise then and my absolute amazement as I reflect on it now, he actually responded positively to all of this.  From my perspective today, I am ashamed at my own impetuous arrogance.  But, it seemed to be just what he needed.  [That is another thing that I have learned—your knowledge and motives don’t have to be perfect in order to do good.  A righteous desire overcomes ignorance and impure motivation.] 

Smiling, he perked up and we spent a few minutes discussing the foolishness of his actions.  I gave him some basic books on bible doctrine written by Thieme:  The Faith-rest Life (basic instruction on how to claim the promises of God contained in the Bible) and War:  Moral or Immoral (a strongly pro-soldier biblical study that encouraged aggressive military action).

From a Christian perspective, these were the only two courses of action that I knew:  leading someone to be born-again and the absorption of massive amounts of bible teaching.  That was the sum of Christian activity from my perspective after thousands of hours of Thieme’s teaching. 

Thieme’s assertion was that the constant and continual intake of bible doctrine would result in the building of a spiritual structure in your soul.  He called it building an Edification Construct of the Soul (ECS) through the Grace Apparatus of Perception (GAP), by means of Isagogic (historical), Categorical and Exegetical (ICE) teaching which would lead the Super Grace (SG) life.  [This use of specialized vocabulary to communicate is one of the things that makes Thieme’s teaching so hard to understand for the uninitiated.  It is also what caused many to accuse him of creating a cult-like atmosphere.]

But, I was unaware of all this at the time.  As far as I knew, I had led someone to Christ and bible doctrine.  I had done my job as a chaplain, or so I thought.

Next:  Pistol-packin’ Chaplain