I’ll never forget that day what I heard, the miracle I witnessed, and its effect the Marines in my care.
Paul, make a U-turn, I heard in my mind.
Knowing it was the voice of God, something I’ve learned to listen to over the years, I immediately turned my car around.
I had been driving inside Al Taqaddum Airbase, which is between Ramadi and Fallujah. It was Easter weekend, 2006. My job was to serve as a chaplain to fifteen hundred Marines. Their jobs were dangerous. Many of them searched for improvised explosive devices. The enemy hid them in potholes, dead dogs, and any place they could.
Shortly after turning my car around, I saw a makeshift hospital. A corpsman ordered me to stop my car and explained the situation. Fifteen marines had been hurt by rockets in an attack in Fallujah, but only one was in critical condition.
I quickly parked and went into the tent where the doctors and nurses were doing all they could to save the Marine’s life. Soon his heart monitor flat-lined. A doctor declared him dead.
One of my prayers for my deployment was that none of the Marines in my care would die. However, when someone dies, a chaplain’s duty is to be available. A medic read his dog tag and announced he was Catholic. They called for the Catholic chaplain, who came and began issuing the last rites.
I heard the voice of God speak to me once again, as clearly as he had when I made the U-turn. Pray for resuscitation.
I began to pray, explaining to those around me that God had called me to pray for resuscitation.
“Revive him, Lord. Resuscitate him,” I prayed over and over again.
Others began to pray with me. Ten minutes later, the heart monitor suddenly started beeping. The Marine was alive. The medical personnel began their feverish work on him again. Soon everyone was crying tears of joy. Several began shouting, “This is a miracle.” The medical team stabilized the Marine, and he was flown to a hospital in Germany.
As I drove back, I was awestruck. I praised God for what he had done. Then the significance of the date hit me. It was Good Friday, the day of our Lord’s death. The Lord brought back to life a Marine on Good Friday. He answered my prayer. All of the Marines in my care came home alive.
You are a God of miracles. Thank you for revealing yourself in marvelous ways and may I keep my eyes open to what wonders you have planned for me.
“Jesus called in a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.’” (John 11:43–44)
August 15
BAPTISM
The story of that’s Marines resuscitation spread quickly. The corpsman and the people in the tent began to share what happened. I talked about it as I led patrol prayer, a time of devotions before Marines went out on patrol.
My attention quickly turned to the upcoming Easter Sunday service that included baptism. Something I discovered is that the spirituality of the Marines is truly deep. They are hungry for God and his presence in their lives. As a result, I led five Bible Studies, not including Sunday service, each week. I wanted to give those who were interested an opportunity to celebrate Easter, and for some Marines and a few Iraqis to have a chance to express their new-found faith.
There was one problem. I had to figure out a way to create a baptistry in the desert. The task was not easy. I dug a deep hole, covered it with a plastic liner and poured eight hundred gallons of water into it. It took me all day.
That Easter service was amazing. The hundreds who attended, worshipped God for the resurrection of his Son, Jesus Christ, and praised him for bringing the Marine back to life two days earlier. When it came time for the baptisms, I lifted the cover off the hole.
I was shocked, all the water was gone. Apparently a hole in the plastic liner had drained the water.
I explained what had happened to those attending the service.
“Let’s pray and see what God does,” I suggested.
Thirty minutes later, a water truck came out of nowhere. Here we were in the middle of war zone, and an Iraqi water truck was just passing by. We stopped it. The truck had a special pump on it that filled the hole in less than a minute. What took me eight hours the day before took this truck only seconds!
“Man, God is alive! God is working overtime,” I heard some of the Marines say. “First a man came back to life and then God provided water for baptism in the desert.”
It was a very special moment. There were no dry eyes in the audience that day as thirty were baptized. God filled our hearts with his presence in a momentous way on Easter Sunday.
God continued to use the miracle of the Marine’s resuscitation. Over one hundred accepted Christ as their savior, including some Iraqi Muslims and even some Buddhists, something I could relate to.
Thank you God meeting my each and every need. Thank you for the strength of your presence.
“Then Jesus said, ‘Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?’” (John 11:40)
August 16
PAUL THE EVANGELIST
“Chaplain Paul, you’re too evangelical,” another chaplain complained to my commanding officer.
You can fire me now, I thought.
The United States Military respects the faith background of its members. No one is required to see a chaplain. But when people are faced with their mortality, they need someone who can answer their questions. Depending on their background and styles, chaplains approach their work differently.
“I know that my life is short, and I know I need to live my life for something that will last forever,” I often explain.
I was born and raised as a strong Buddhist in South Korea. Becoming a Christian was the farthest thing from my mind when my family came to America. My great-grandmother was the only Christian in my family. She prayed for me, but I rejected her over and over. Then one day I was driving past a church.
The thought, Paul, why don’t you pray? suddenly entered my mind.
I didn’t know how to pray or respond to what I now know was the voice of God.
“I don’t know who you are, but thank you for a good day,” I replied.
I started praying every day, especially when I caught a glimpse of the cross on that church’s steeple. My heart became softened by those prayers. One day my mom and I agreed to go to church with my great grandmother. My dad and two sisters decided to attend another church that day.
At the end of the sermon I was crying uncontrollably. I felt God’s presence. It was a package deal. That same week, my mom, dad, two sisters, and I all came to Christ.
