JOSH
The small group semester ended with a two-day conference at our church. Upward of five hundred people attended the conference, and now Paige and I realized that the people we passed between church pews were struggling with the same things we were. One of the themes of the conference was overcoming fear. At first, nothing came to mind when it came time to go up front and pray. I mean, maybe I’m a little scared of spiders, but I have an unhealthy lack of fear for so many other things. I had jumped out of airplanes. I had survived Special Forces Selection. I had stepped on a bomb and lived to tell about it. What could I have left to fear?
As I was nearing the front to have a one-one-prayer with one of the conference leaders, I quickly realized that I feared leading. I felt paralyzed to lead in any capacity—at work, in my family, in my marriage. My fear of leadership is a deeply rooted darkness within me. It is the reason I had struggled to adjust to the civilian world—just like so many other veterans. We feel like there will never be a greater calling than the one we just completed in our time of service. At first, there was a little relief to not have my life dangling by a thread every day. But then anytime I thought of the future, it felt like nothing would be as significant as serving my country.
The root of this fear dug deeper within me when I realized that I still was haunted by what happened to Sergeant Barrera and Juan. I had done everything to push that into the back of my mind and lock it away for years, but survivor’s guilt said their fate was a reflection of my leadership, proof I should never lead again. Put those two feelings together, and I thought, I can’t do it, and even if I could, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
During this conference, I realized that that’s exactly where Satan wanted me: isolated and feeling like I was a lost cause. Standing in line for prayer, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to blurt all of this out to the person who would end up praying for me. I was beckoned over to the corner and asked what was on my mind—I could barely catch my breath, let alone speak coherent sentences. All I could say was, “Ever since I got out of the Army, I have been afraid to lead.” He didn’t ask for any more details; he just put one hand on my chest and one hand on my back and started to tip me backward. “Whoa!” I said. “Uh, sir, I don’t have legs, and I can’t really tell if my feet are on the floor—”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got you.” This man confronted the fear within me. He spoke truth over me and reminded me that the Lord did not let me survive all of this to live in fear.
Crying, I went back to my seat and decided it was time to lead again. I received prayer over the strongholds in my life and declared God’s promise to use those perceived weaknesses as a place for the power of Jesus to take root. For the first time I looked beyond my own capabilities. My subconscious plan was to realize where my capabilities ended and just live up to that ceiling. But I had already unintentionally proven that idea didn’t work. If that were true, then I wouldn’t have needed the miracles that allowed me to be a father, redeem my marriage, or even save my life. All of those things happened because of something beyond my abilities, understanding, and even my level of faith. And because of that, I didn’t need to live my life as if those things were in the past. I needed to compound them. I needed to use them to help other people. What if other veterans, dads, and husbands could have hope for their futures because of how I stewarded my life? I decided I would lead veteran-based small groups, I was going to be a leader in my workplace, and I was going to ask my wife to get baptized with me at the end of this conference.
PAIGE
Josh and I went home after the first day both exhausted and rejuvenated. We looked our sins and shortcomings in the face and then told them to get in line behind the cross. Short on words, we lay in bed that night, and Josh asked me one of the most memorable questions he’d ever asked me: “What would you think about getting baptized together tomorrow?” I couldn’t speak but vigorously nodded my head in agreement, trying to hold back the tears.
We had been told that at the end of the next session, anyone who wanted to be baptized was invited to the front lobby. Josh and I both stood up and joined the hundred other people who were ready to start over. Josh took his legs off, scooted into the water, and was buried in baptism and raised to a new life. I followed, agreeing to the exact same thing. Our whole group stayed to watch us. After we were baptized, Josh told our leaders that he wanted to co-lead a small group next semester. I could not believe it! Josh didn’t even want to attend this small group three months ago. Now he couldn’t get enough of it.
