On a recent flight, I lucked out and got an exit row seat with extra leg room. I’d had a busy couple of days. I was worn out, looking forward to a nap.
No such luck. The man next to me wanted to talk. I tried to politely signal that I wanted to sleep, to no avail. He talked about the leg room in this row. He mentioned the weather. Then he said, “I’m going to see my friend who is dying. This is a tough journey.” I asked, “What happened to your friend?” He said, “We served in the United States Army together. We were both injured in a fight in Fallujah. We should’ve died but a group of Marines got us out. But my buddy’s body is breaking down and he’s not got much time left.” I said, “I’m so sorry about your friend. I admire your willingness to go see him. Not everyone is able to make this journey.”
He told me his own story. An injury ended his University of Kentucky football career after two years. He enlisted and served in Desert Storm. In 2003, he was in the Reserves when he was called to serve. A year or two later he was in the fight that led to his injuries.
He’s married now. Four kids; two adopted from a home where drug abuse overwhelmed the parents. He and his wife are giving the two kids a new start. They live in a small town in Eastern Kentucky. When I told him I’m a pastor, he immediately said, “No offense sir but I’m an atheist.” I told him I wasn’t offended, and asked how he arrived at his atheism. He talked about the horrific things he had seen. They were the root of his unbelief. He also talked about the Bible and many of the contradictions. He knew scripture well. I assured him there were plenty of churches, like the one I serve, where thoughtful inquiry was welcomed.
He told me about his wife and the work they do in their community. He told me how much he loves his country, his family and his neighbors, even the church folks in his home town who don’t know what to do about him. As we landed I saw tears in his eyes. “You OK, Brother?” I asked. “I’m thinking about my friend. He’s too young, you know?”
As we parted, I shook his hand. I said, “I deeply admire your service to country, your love of family and your loyalty to your friend. You are the kind of person Jesus calls us to be.” And then I said, “Sorry, I started to preach!” He smiled and said, “Pastor, it’s been a pleasure. I am in Kansas City often. Maybe I’ll come visit your church.” I said, “Come see us anytime. We will be proud to welcome you.”
I said once in a sermon, “God prefers loving atheists to mean and judgmental Christians.” I’ve met the man who is the image of that comment: a soft spoken atheist who has served his country, loves his family and cares for his neighbor. I’m certain Jesus will say to him some day, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
Grace and peace to you,
