The Voice of God Ignores Objections

     For seventeen years I have had the privilege of being around firefighters, serving as a chaplain for two departments in Texas and then in Florida. During all of those times, I became accustomed to sharing with firefighters this often repeated affirmation: “I have no idea what benefit I may be to you, but you teach me things about God and people that I would not have learned otherwise.” One of the first things I ever learned about God in that arena was from Fate Fire Rescue in Fate, TX. Watching them put out the residential fire, comfort the family, and secure the safety of everyone taught me of the “Incarnational” nature of the first responder’s work. Functioning as the “hands and feet of God,” they execute the very rescue that those in time of need, during an emergency, called out to God for.
     What do I mean by “Incarnational?” There is a rich theological tradition, going back 2,000 years, that wrestled with the mystery of how Jesus Christ could be both fully divine and fully human; like the Father in all of his deity and like us in all of his humanity (except without any sin). Councils debated and argued over this, often fumbling around in the clumsiness of human language in an attempt to summarize what ultimately is a grand mystery. The mystery of the Incarnation is that Jesus was fully God and fully human. How exactly does that work? I don’t know and neither do you. One of the effects of that is: because of the Incarnational principle, chiefly and uniquely personified in Jesus Christ, we often can’t nail down “Was that a work of God or a work of people?” The most accurate answer often is “yes.”
     I say all that to say this: firefighters often do their work somehow unaware of how much they are performing the work of God.
     Firefighters might be unaware of this, but EMS patients and those rescued from calamity are very aware of if. The displaced family saved from a fully involved home at 2am is very aware of it. The people extricated from a crunched vehicle, stabilized and transported to the hospital are all very aware of it. This is because every call started with a prayer. Whether people vocalized it, or were even aware of it, when their emergency unfolded, they screamed deep inside their head “God, help me!” It was then that they had the wherewithal to dial 9-1-1. In response to that the call center personnel dispatched the apparatus and crew, but that was just the logistics of getting the prayer answered - the means by which God responded to the one in need - and those overjoyed by the arrival of the FD crew know it. I could always tell just from witnessing the response of those that called 9-1-1. It was obvious they’re thanking God in their heart for the responders that rolled up.
     If indeed firefighters function as “the hands and feet of God,” as I first heard at Fate Fire Rescue, then I have found they can also function as “the voice of God” as well. How can this be? For those that “have ears to hear,” it can be loud and clear. I once rode with an engine crew responding to an elderly patient whose symptoms dictated she go to the hospital quickly. She had a grown son who was able to make the decision to “please, take her to the hospital,” but even without that, her symptoms and cognitive impairments were such that the paramedic could easily make that call as well. Thing is… between answering diagnostic questions, she’d insert “I’m not going to the hospital.”
     The paramedic would respond, “Yes, ma’am. I understand that. Now could you place your feet on the floor for me?”
    “Yes, honey. Here you go” (swings her feet off the bed onto the floor), “but I’m not going to the hospital.”
    “Yes, ma’am. I understand. Now could you just come over here and sit on the stretcher?”
    “Yes, dear” (sits down on the stretcher), “but I’m not going to the hospital.”
    “Yes, ma’am. We’re just going to secure these straps for your comfort. Okay?”
     

     She went to the hospital. 

     The son was grateful over the gentle and professional way that the paramedic compassionately ignored her objections. As we rode away on the engine, I was struck by how clearly the whole thing sounded like “God’s voice” as he often calls the reluctant to repentance or into service; how He compassionately ignores the objections of the reluctant sinner or servant.
     We all know this person. They are the sinner who knows they need God’s forgiveness, but still struggles with an inappropriate sense of self-sufficiency. They are the worshiper trained for service, but whose life has gotten comfortable and doesn’t want any change. God calls, and they say “do I really need to answer right now?” The pursuit of God is a strange and formidable force. Is God’s grace irresistible? No. Sadly some of us can so commit to our own doom that, as a category of Divine judgment, we seemingly “get our way.” But for many of us, the resistance wasn’t all that firm, not completely rebellious, not fully committed to rejecting God’s “call.” We just don’t want the life change we know he’ll put us through. “I’m not going to the hospital,” we object. His response? “I hear you my child. I get that you’re scared. Now let’s get you strapped onto the stretcher, shall we.” Little by little we comply because his voice is so reassuring, so confident in what he’s doing, so authoritative in the moment, that we find our selves inexplicably complying. Next thing you know we’re already being transported, wondering what we were objecting to in the first place.
     I had been a pastor before, but was committed never to make that my profession again. I’d be happy to volunteer myself as much as possible. I loved serving in the local church and especially serving a local fire department as chaplain. Call after call, however, department after department, year after year, I steadily could hear God say “pay attention, because you WILL be back at it leading people into the worship of Jesus Christ.” I’d object, citing past failures. I’d object, citing a growing career as an archaeologist. I’d even object, declaring my ministerial volunteerism as a “sufficient response to the call.” Laughably, how many volunteer firefighters have I known that dreamt of becoming full time? (*face palm*)
    And… there was my most recent fire department of Seminole County, Florida. In my time with them I accompanied crews on well over 150 calls, was welcome at all 20 stations, rode every apparatus, and enjoyed more dinners with those crews than I can count. SCFD stood out as a particularly warm and welcoming department, and each night, each visit, each emergency I could spend time with them the “voice of God” just got louder and louder…
    …and my objections sounded more and more pathetic.
    “No God, I can’t do that. I’m settled in my community, love my firefighters, get recognition in my career, and already serve at my church.”
    “Yes, my child. I get it. Now, could you place your feet on the floor for me?
     Over and over vox Dei in igne (“the voice of God in fire”) compassionately ignored the objections, and I heard his call by means of engine and rescue crews being “the hand and feet of God” and also his voice as well. If I really wanted to avoid God’s voice, I could have done so more effectively by avoiding God’s work altogether; but that was never possible because I love the church and particularly love firefighters. Those in the fire service have the endearing quality of often being oblivious to how much they are used of God to answer the prayers of the desperate. It’s “Incarnational” in the sense that when someone asks “it is the work of God or the work of the FD crew?” the correct answer is “Yes, of course.” It is different, however, in that Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word, was always very aware of what he was doing.
    
     Objections overcome, call answered, obediently enroute to the scene, and my fire department is, in no small way, the reason for it. My advice? Stay away from the work of God if you want to avoid “the voice of God,” because he could very well be overcoming your objections by means of people unaware they’re strapping you onto the stretcher. 
    

Caregivers of the Dead

     A short while ago, I responded (with my FD crew) to one of the more gruesome motor vehicle fatalities I’ve seen so far in my time as a fire department chaplain. Sure I’ve seen dead bodies before, but not so many that I’ve “gotten used to it.” This one stuck with me for several reasons, mostly due to the time it took to free the victim from the vehicle. Three hours is a long time to stand around in the Florida heat while a deceased human is slowly extricated from an overturned van.    

     Such times can test your internal constitution, and reveal your capacity to stay focused on the job you need to perform. For me as a chaplain, my job has many layers, most of which are intangible. There can be specific functions to the role, but most often my job is to be randomly encouraging with reassuring smiles, human contact, and what is called “the ministry of presence.” So being “present” for my Seminole County fire crew, the Seminole County Sheriff’s deputies and Florida Highway Patrolmen on scene was really what was on my mind.

     That changed, though, when another team arrived on the scene with whom I had not interacted before: the medical examiner and coroner. I was struck by the meticulous detail the M.E. had to document concerning the entire scene, the apparent cause of death, and even the body itself. Photographs were taken from every angle so as to preserve each view of the vehicle and the deceased. Her singular focus was that of capturing every relevant detail so that the story of the victim’s death could accurately be told. Who would later need that story to be told correctly? The victim’s family? Law enforcement? A jury? The M.E. carries a tremendous responsibility reporting to the living how a soul left this Earth; a story that will have a far-reaching impact, and that will endure through all the generations of the victim’s progeny.

     Another “caregiver of the dead” that gave me pause, however, was the man from the coroner’s office whose role was to transport the deceased away. I imagine that such a profession could become taxing. It’s never your job to transport the living or be involved in their rescue. No…all of your “clients” are dead. Your passengers, whether meeting their demise in peaceful or violent fashion, calmly or through much suffering, all have the same state of lifelessness. These keepers of the dead bear a burden which most are uncomfortable discussing. In film (especially westerns) they are portrayed as macabre characters all clad in black, randomly approaching the stranger in town with a tape measure so as to get a head start on building their coffin. They’re never featured as the happy individual with a normal family, a burgeoning romance, and a network of friends they meet down at the pub. We don’t like thinking about the dead, so we imagine their caregivers as someone we’d rather not be. This is very unfortunate.

     I must confess that I, myself, have been guilty of the above misconception before…that is until this encounter. As I observed the gentle care and attention to dignity shown for the dead by this man, I felt myself developing an entirely different view. With great personal alarm I realized how under-appreciated he has been, and others like him with the same job. My great hope is that I was able to be of some encouragement to him on the spot, for it was in the flashing minutes of standing there in the middle of the road that the epiphany of his necessity struck me. Flooding my mind was all the Biblical references to his role that I had read before, and the great need for his role across cultures.

     To some it might have seemed odd that I wanted to help him carry the body to his vehicle, but to me it had suddenly become a great privilege to assist him in any way. Overwhelmed with this new revelation, I wrote the following Prayer for the Coroner (shown below):

Our Father in heaven…

Who gave to our forefather, Joseph,
    faithful brothers that would carry his body
    to his final resting place in the Promised Land;
Who inspired women to care for the body of our Lord
    before He rose from the dead,
Grant, we ask, your Grace upon those that,
    with gentle care and respect for the departed,
    transport the earthly remains of those that have died
    as such souls leave for their heavenly journey.
Comfort those who must examine and report
    on the remains of people now gone
    in order to tell the story of their passing,
    that the living will know the truth how the deceased left this world.
By Your Spirit, remind these workers of respect for the dead
    of the great importance of their profession,
    and fill them with assurance that their example
    inspires the respect and reverence of others as well.
These things we ask on account of Him who first revealed his Resurrection
    to those who came to care for his body, Jesus Christ our Lord.       

Amen.

    Hopefully we all are able to better appreciate what these people do for us. When the dead leave us behind, our mourning process is facilitated by a chain of dedicated individuals that must care for our deceased loved one along the way; from the M.E. and coroner, to the funeral staff and even those that carry out what is done with remains (burial digging, cremation technician, etc.). Care for the dead is one of those bedrock practices that makes us human, separating us from animals and revealing culture in the archaeological record. Let us show our appreciation for these “caregivers of the dead” and consider the great calling they carry for our benefit.

The Theology of a Cadaver?

In my capacity as a Chaplain for the Seminole County Fire Department, it’s often a privilege to be present when personnel are training, honing the skills they need for any given call and emergency. Such training can include everything from hose and hydrant drills to high angle rescue, to medic emergency procedures. For paramedic practices, various dummies have been manufactured to help train personnel for protocols in CPR and airway intubation, and everything in between. These synthetic dummies, however, cannot replace the value of practice on the “real thing”: the human body.

This presents a challenge for designing training. How much of that can be practiced on a live volunteer? People might willingly be dragged across smooth floor, lifted into a rescue basket, or have their “broken” leg splinted, but they won’t agree to be intubated (airway tube), shocked (AED) or have someone practice drilling into their bones. For those later exercises, willing people have willed that their bodies be donated to science; and for purposes of the medic training, that resulted in the “Cadaver Lab.”

As chaplain, such moments make me question just how much of the fire department’s training do I really want to attend. On the surface, it seemed unwise, but brave the Cadaver Lab I did, and I’m now grateful to have been included. What’s more? I think that such training resources like the Cadaver Lab need to be incorporated into a theology of the body that permeates Christianity.

I’d like to offer a different take on the concept taught among Christians that comes from the book of 1st Corinthians. “Or do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and you are not your own? For you were bought at a price. Therefore glorify God with your body” (1 Cor. 6:19-20, NET). The context of this statement was the Apostle Paul’s admonition for the reader to abstain from sexual immorality, arguing that there’s no such thing as a “victimless crime;” that sexual sins violate the mandate of your design, and the intent of your body’s rightful owner…God.

This concept of the body as “God’s temple” has, in some circles, been expanded to prohibit other vices indulged with the body as well (i.e. gluttony, drunkenness, and some have gone on to apply to it smoking as well). In any event, the “body as God’s temple” concept has been applied to encourage abstinence; abstaining from sexual sins or any other vice that debases one’s own body from its intended dignity and purpose. This is a good and right message, and one sorely needed in a culture that indulges every appetite and whim.

The discipline of abstaining, however, is only half the message. Studying the spiritual disciplines intended for Lent (the penitential season that precedes Easter in the Christian calendar) will lead you to authors such as Richard Foster and Dallas Willard, who have written about both the abstaining AND engaging disciplines. Abstaining disciplines offer categories of things to DON’T do, while engaging disciplines point toward things to DO. On the one hand, examples of abstaining disciplines are things like fasting, silence, solitude, and frugality. On the other hand, examples of engaging disciplines include things like generosity, fellowship, or study. Some will think that this is a stretch, but I think the complementary categories of abstaining and engaging disciplines also can be applied to the “body as God’s temple” concept.

If there are things to NOT do with “God’s temple,” surely there are things to DO with God’s temple as well. This seems to me an important teaching that, while lacking a clear Bible verse as its referent, permeates the Christian notion of service. The manner in which you serve the purposes of God are all done in the body. In other words, every way you serve God you do so with “God’s temple.” When you show appropriate affection to a loved one, you assure them of their value using “God’s temple.” When you carry a heavy load for someone moving boxes, you serve them with “God’s temple.” Likewise, when you give blood in times of need, you offer life-giving assistance using “God’s temple.”

Imagine offering, in your last will and testament, “God’s temple” for the furtherance of life-saving knowledge for firefighters, paramedics and nurses in training. That is what these people did who gave their bodies for the Cadaver Lab. The instructor took a moment of silence at the beginning of the class to honor those that had donated their bodies for the lab, which I found to be an appropriate and fitting homage. It seemed to me, though, that a Christian perspective can go even further.

As with an organ donor, upon death the body is donated to give life. As for things to DO with “God’s temple” (as opposed to things NOT to do), I can think of few more praiseworthy uses for “God’s temple.” Were any of the people, whose body helped to teach medic procedures, Christians? I have no idea, and it holds no bearing on the nobility of their choice. I do think, however, that Christians, having been taught the “body as God’s temple” concept, should be particularly open to such final acts of service. As one’s final choice with what to do with their body, surely advancing knowledge and giving life should be high on the list of things to do with “the temple of the Holy Spirit.”