Death of a Soldier

I read news today of the sudden death of Lieutenant Joe Gauthier, a military chaplain candidate studying at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. While running with a fellow chaplain candidate, he suddenly dropped and efforts to resuscitate him failed. He leaves a young bride of less than one year and undoubtedly many grieving friends and family.

This news makes me sad for a couple of reasons. First, anytime a person dies at such a young age, it stirs grief of lost opportunities and dreams – theirs and ours. Second, I have a former colleague and friend who is busting it hard as he answers God’s call on his life to become a military chaplain. These men DO NOT answer this call lightly. It costs dearly in many ways and is perhaps one of the most difficult mission outposts in our culture.

I will admit that I also struggle with a huge, perhaps obvious question to some: how could God call one of His children to service and then allow his life to end so tragically? I do not ask this question from a posture of doubt because I confess the struggle in full light of the gift of faith. But it is something to consider as a sibling in Christ, a fellow soldier of the Cross, and one set apart for the ministry of the Gospel. I have had encounters with friends and relatives of missionaries who have lost their lives tragically while serving on the mission field. That loss challenges even Rock-solid faith in the sovereignty of a loving God.

The truth is this: none of us is promised tomorrow. Regardless of social standing, bank balance, personality, gifting, calling, or talent we are all participants in a fallen world where death is a part of life. And for me, alongside feelings of sadness and grief, there rests a profound weight of gratitude. I, too, am a man called by God to live my life in full-throttle response to His amazing love, mercy and grace. I, too, am a man called to serve Him particularly as a vocational minister. I am thankful that, to this point, God has seen fit to allow me to continue the journey as a follower of Christ, a husband, a father, a son, a friend and a servant of the Most High. It makes me consider the gift of today and the hope of tomorrow. And tomorrow morning, if I am given the blessing of another day, I must consider this huge, inescapable question: will I live this day as if it could be my last day in this life serving my King? Will I count the cost, take the risks, speak the Love, embrace the pain and be the salt and light I was created to be? All that is within me hopes so.

Rest in peace, Lieutenant Gauthier; Godspeed and thank you.