himself up to throw a grenade and was struck in the chest by an enemy bullet. Looking down at the wound, his mind raced:
The air was going in and out of a hole in my lungs. That didn’t mean I was finished, but I thought I was dead, going to die right then, because I thought if that happened you were gone. I wasn’t breathing through my mouth but through this hole. It felt like a balloon going in and out, going pshhh. I was thinking to myself, Now I’m going to die.
While undergoing treatment for his wound, he later learned:
The bullet… came through my chest between two ribs, slightly shattering them, went past my heart, as the doctors later told me, when it must have been on an inbeat instead of an outbeat, and then missed my backbone as it went through the other side of my body about an inch. So it was a very close shave.174
What would life be like knowing that a bullet had missed your heart by less than an inch? Perhaps you would feel that it was no coincidence, and that God had spared your life for a purpose: your work on this earth was not yet complete.
The apostle Paul told the Corinthians all about his own “close shaves.” Five times he received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one (forty lashes were thought to be lethal, so they stopped short at thirty-nine). He was beaten with rods three times, stoned once, shipwrecked three times, and the list goes on (2 Corinthians 11:24–27). Instead of these brushes with death stopping him from his work, he carried on by God’s strength. God has numbered each of our days as well, from the moment we were born (Psalm 139:16). The Lord will call us home when the time is right, whether we die from a car accident, a heart attack, or an act of war. But in the meantime, he has work for us to do; we should not think our contributions to the kingdom of God are over as long as we are alive. (JG)
For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.
May 8
The mission came from Col. “Chesty” Puller himself. Lt. Paul Moore was to assault a Japanese position on the other side of the Matanikau River with his platoon of Marines. Four other units had been repulsed in the same effort. It seemed like suicide, but he didn’t hesitate.
Expecting to wade across, he and his men found themselves swimming instead. As he neared the opposite bank, he described an incredible scene: “ mortars and hand grenades going over our heads and into the water as if it were raining, with bullets striking all around us.#8221; As casualties mounted the Marines could not continue to advance. Moore finally called for his platoon to fall back. As he was trying to help one of his men to safety across the open beach under fire, an amazing thought passed through his mind:
I remember when I was leaning over trying to bring one of my men to safety seeing bullet marks in the sand around my feet and thinking, you know, it I get out of this, maybe it means I should do something special. There was a feeling—I don’t know if it’s good theology, whether it’s superstition or what, but certainly I felt that I had been extremely fortunate, and that I was, in a sense, living on borrowed time, and that this was another good reason to give my life to the Lord, and it seemed that being a priest was the way.175
Paul Moore did become an Episcopal priest and bishop after the war. I doubt that many discern their call to the priesthood in such dramatic fashion, but in every case it is a powerful calling. We are blessed that good men and women have heard and responded to this call in the past and continue to do so today. The body of Christ is made up mostly of lay people trying to do his work. Our “commissioned officers” are our priests and ministers. We need them to teach and lead us spiritually. They need our support and loyalty in return.
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here I am. Send me!”
May 9
Lewis B. “Chesty” Puller arrived at Guadalcanal on September 18, 1942. He was forty-four years old and had already spent more than half his life as a Marine. Just promoted to lieutenant colonel, he commanded 1st Battalion, 7th Marines. When another famous Marine, Mike Edson, saw Puller land, he commented to someone nearby, “ There comes the greatest fighting man in the Marine Corps. ”176
With two Navy Crosses already to his name, Puller was destined to earn three more before his career was over. His units were called on for the toughest assignments, and Puller put himself in the most dangerous places to best direct the action. In training and in combat he demanded every ounce of effort from every man and was unrelenting in his drive to successfully complete every mission. He was hard on his men, but he was also hard on himself.
Chesty Puller was undoubtedly a natural soldier and a great fighter. His men respected and feared him, but amazingly, they also loved him. This is because he looked after them like a father. He was ruthless with junior officers who took advantage of their “privileges.” He was often seen standing in chow line with the men and eating with them. He pushed them to the limit on forced marches, but was usually seen helping carry machine guns and mortars to give those men some respite. Of commanders on Guadalcanal, he alone wrote personal letters to the wounded who had been evacuated. Sharing every danger and privation, he made his men feel like he was one of them.
Puller made a lasting contribution to the unique style of leadership that became firmly imbedded in Marine Corps tradition. It was not a “rank has its privilege” model. It was fundamentally a “servant” model. Every Marine officer learns, almost as a religious principle, that the needs of his men come before his own. The true prototype of this model is of course Jesus Christ. Service and sacrifice were the hallmarks of his life and ministry on Earth.
Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant.
May 10
