“Hey, sir. Got a minute?” the soldier asked.

“Of course. Have a seat.” He pulled out one of the silver folding chairs and sat down.

He got right into it. No small talk. I liked him right away.

“You ever feel like God is silent?” he asked. “I mean, I pray. I repent daily. I really do. But sometimes I keep praying and asking God to show me, and it’s just silence.”

Through previous conversations, I knew him to be a believer, a Christian, a man familiar with Scripture. And he has always had, since I’ve known him, a quiet and dignified, serious way about him. He struck me always as a thoughtful man, not one skating upon the surface of things.

“You remember the persistent widow in Scripture, right?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Remember what Jesus said at the end of that illustration about her, the persistent widow?”

He thought in silence.

He said, “‘And will not God give justice to his elect, who cry to him day and night?'”

“I know.”

“Remember David?” I asked, “that he sought the Lord and the Lord answered him and delivered him from all his fears?”

“I know,” he said. “I just feel like God is silent, like he won’t confirm things to me.”

“I hear you. May I ask you something else?”

“Yes.”

“Are you seeking something in addition to Scripture, some sign or voice to make it all real to you?”

“Yes, exactly!”

“Again, I know you know Scripture, but didn’t Peter speak to this tendency we have–to want something additional?”

He sat in silence, looking at me, and looking inward.

“In his second letter, Peter wrote as a man who’d been with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration. He was an intimate friend of Jesus, one of his inner circle . . .”

“Yes,” he said, leaning in.

“But what did Peter remind us of if not the prophetic word more fully confirmed?”

“I know. It’s just . . .”

“What does Jesus tell us again and again in his Word if not to ‘Fear not’ and ‘Be not afraid’ and that he’ll not forsake his sheep?”

“I know,” he said.

“Let me propose an either/or. Is it wise to be led by our feelings and external signs or by his Word?” I asked.

“I just feel like he won’t answer,” he said. “And I’m just so tired.”

“Is the cross not the answer? Is not the Holy Spirit inside of you the answer?” I asked.

“I see,” he said.

We spoke for over an hour–about his past, present, and future. We spoke of our ministries. We spoke of our families. We spoke of military life and the tolls it exacts.

His shift was nearing its end, and we shook hands yet again. “You speak truth, chaplain. I appreciate it.”

“If I don’t do that, brother, I’m in the wrong lane.”

“We’ll talk more,” he said.

“Yes, we will, brother.”

He grabbed his ruck and exited to go get a shower and some rest. I opened my pocket Bible I keep in my right cargo pocket and turned to Romans: “Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?” (Rom 8:33-35)

Lord, thank you for times like this–times I could never orchestrate in my fallen, sinful, human strength. Teach me to be tender to those you’re dealing with, so that they discover the light in the darkness. You are not far from each of us. We just have to listen. You were here, are here, and will be here. Grip this man, confirm your Word to him, encourage him, and surround him with your presence. You intercede for us when we can’t find even the words to express the anguish we all sometimes feel. Intercede, Lord, for my brother. Comfort him.