In honor of Veterans Day, a heartfelt word of thanks to all of you who have served or are serving in America’s armed forces.  Thank you for your willingness to train, to suffer hardship, to experience separation from your loved ones, and to put your life at risk for your countrymen.

My late father-in-law was a veteran of World War II,  He was one of four brothers, all of whom were drafted away from their family farm in rural Tennessee.

After completing his training, he became a Technical Sergeant in the Army Air Corps — the precursor to the US Air Force.   His responsibilities included making in-flight repairs and serving as a waist gunner aboard a B-24 Liberator bomber in the European theater, as part of the Mighty Eighth Air Force.

Like many men of his generation, he rarely talked about his experiences during the war, downplaying the danger and his role.  “It was late in the war by the time I got over there,” he always said.   Once when my grandmother asked if he had ever been to Germany, he gave a slight smile and said, “No, but I’ve been over it.”

Following the war, he returned to the farm for a while before enrolling in Tennessee Tech on the GI Bill.  Following his graduation from college, he earned a doctorate in agronomy and genetics from the University of Wisconsin.

With his PhD, he took a position as a research agronomist with the US Department of Agriculture and was assigned to a research station at a large state university.  He worked there the rest of his career, developing numerous soybean cultivars that fed millions and teaching graduate students from around the world.

As distinguished as his career was, he was also a devoted husband and father, raising my wife and her siblings in a godly household.

Over the past dozen years or so, we have seen popular sentiment regarding military service return to an appropriate level of respect and gratitude.  This is as it should be.

At the same time, I hear and read some people saying that the US is no longer worthy of such devotion or service.  I am not here to argue for or against — especially not with those who have served.  On this occasion, however, I want to commend those who, like my father-in-law, saw their duty, did it and came home to build an exemplary life.  This is still a county that produces such men.  That is worth preserving.

So how about you?   What lessons did you learn from your own military service, or that of your friends or family members?  How are you using that wisdom to be your best?  Add your comments below.

When it’s too tough for everybody else, it’s just right for me. – Anonymous

In an earlier post, I argued that hardship shapes character. This time, I want to develop that idea further.

Would you believe me if I said you need a battle to fight? An adversary? A foil? Think about it: every great story — in order to be a story at all — has to have conflict. The protagonist finds himself pitted against another man, against nature, against God, or even against himself. The story doesn’t begin until the conflict comes into view.

Ok, you say, that’s great for stories, but why do I need a battle in my life? Lots of reasons — not least of which is you need stimulation in order to thrive. Without a conflict, you’d be mentally stunted and die of boredom! But there are other evidences that prove our need for adversity.

You need to find yours when the world turns upside down

Babies and birth

The passage through the birth canal helps newborns to thrive. The birth process is an ordeal for mother and baby, and it is vitally necessary.

I recently learned that babies born via c-section receive fewer beneficial microorganisms than children born vaginally, and it takes them longer to develop equivalent immune function. Sure removing babies surgically is less strenuous, but it’s not as good for the mother or the baby.

Butterflies

We’re all aware of the metamorphosis from caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly. But did you know that the emerging butterfly needs to struggle free of the chrysalis to be able to form flight-worthy wings? It’s true. The effort of extricating itself from the cocoon forces hemolymph into the channels of the wings, giving them the needed shape. Take away the  struggle and the circulation doesn’t happen, resulting in malformed and useless wings.

Bodybuilders

We’ve talked about this before. If you want to build a sculpted physique, there are no shortcuts. Sure you can apply intelligence to increase your exercise efficiency and effectiveness, but you’re still going to have to put in the time doing the right work consistently and in the right way.

Soldiers, sailors, and marines

Each branch of the service has its own boot camp — that period of time when raw recruits are forged into warriors. The adversarial model of instruction subjects the candidate to physical and emotional stress to cultivate strength, endurance, and resilience, since there are no time outs in combat. The harshness of this type of initiation also weeds out the merely interested from the deeply committed.

When you are facing opposition, try asking yourself how badly you want what’s on the other side of that obstacle.

Astronauts

If you crave the frictionless, zero-gravity life, please note that astronauts have to simulate earth’s gravity in space to avoid becoming worthless in this world when they return. The reason is that earthlings’ bones and muscles are suited to the load placed on them by gravity. Remove that base layer of resistance, and atrophy and bone loss set in.

One counter-example

Just in case you doubt the case I’m making here, consider what becomes of children whose parents coddle them. By seeking to remove any possibility of frustration or — horrors! — tears, coddling parents destroy their children’s resilience and resourcefulness. One needs the experience and wisdom he gains by solving small problems when he is small, so that his capacity grows with him.

Scars are stories — ask Shakespeare

Difficult times leave their marks — some physical, some psychic — but they all tell stories. In Shakespeare’s Henry V, the young king is rallying his outnumbered men before the climactic confrontation against the French at Agincourt. In his famous monologue, Henry says:

This day is called the feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,

And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian:’

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.

And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’

Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,

But he’ll remember with advantages

What feats he did that day: then shall our names.

Familiar in his mouth as household words

Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,

Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.

This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remember’d;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.”

The wounds sustained in a valiant struggle are the seed bed of stories. And those stories are how we transfer noble character traits and/or warn against ignoble ones.

Adversity creates resilience and prepares one for the next challenge. How do I know? Because people who get wiped out don’t tackle the next challenge.

So what about you? What lessons are you extracting from your current challenges? Add your comments below.

I encountered what I’m about to share with you quite providentially. In a discussion regarding male-female relationships, someone made a passing reference to the letters J.R.R. Tolkien wrote to his son. Being a fan of “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings, I was intrigued, went looking for the letter, and found it. I have reproduced it below in its entirety — British spellings and all. It is a long, but worthwhile read.

In a future post, I will offer some thoughts on Tolkien’s ideas and how they may apply to your life and mine. In the meantime, notice the fatherly intention and tone of the letter. Here was a man interested in sharing what he had learned with his son — who at the time was recovering in a military hospital from wounds suffered in training during World War II. Enter J.R.R. Tolkien:

“One ring to rule them all…”

From a letter to Michael Tolkien 6-8 March 1941

[On the subject of marriage and relations between the sexes.]

A man’s dealings with women can be purely physical (they cannot really, of course: but I mean he can refuse to take other things into account, to the great damage of his soul (and body) and theirs); or ‘friendly’; or he can be a ‘lover’ (engaging and blending all his affections and powers of mind and body in a complex emotion powerfully coloured and energized by ‘sex’). This is a fallen world. The dislocation of sex-instinct is one of the chief symptoms of the Fall. The world has been ‘going to the bad’ all down the ages. The various social forms shift, and each new mode has its special dangers: but the ‘hard spirit of concupiscence’ has walked down every street, and sat leering in every house, since Adam fell. We will leave aside the ‘immoral’ results. These you desire not to be dragged into. To renunciation you have no call. ‘Friendship’ then? In this fallen world the ‘friendship’ that should be possible between all human beings, is virtually impossible between man and woman. The devil is endlessly ingenious, and sex is his favourite subject. He is as good every bit at catching you through generous romantic or tender motives, as through baser or more animal ones. This ‘friendship’ has often been tried: one side or the other nearly always fails. Later in life when sex cools down, it may be possible. It may happen between saints. To ordinary folk it can only rarely occur: two minds that have really a primarily mental and spiritual affinity may by accident reside in a male and a female body, and yet may desire and achieve a ‘friendship’ quite independent of sex. But no one can count on it. The other partner will let him (or her) down, almost certainly, by ‘falling in love’. But a young man does not really (as a rule) want ‘friendship’, even if he says he does. There are plenty of young men (as a rule). He wants love: innocent, and yet irresponsible perhaps. Allas! Allas! that ever love was sinne! as Chaucer says. Then if he is a Christian and is aware that there is such a thing as sin, he wants to know what to do about it.

There is in our Western culture the romantic chivalric tradition still strong, though as a product of Christendom (yet by no means the same as Christian ethics) the times are inimical to it. It idealizes ‘love’ — and as far as it goes can be very good, since it takes in far more than physical pleasure, and enjoins if not purity, at least fidelity, and so self-denial, ‘service’, courtesy, honour, and courage. Its weakness is, of course, that it began as an artificial courtly game, a way of enjoying love for its own sake without reference to (and indeed contrary to) matrimony. Its centre was not God, but imaginary Deities, Love and the Lady. It still tends to make the Lady a kind of guiding star or divinity – of the old-fashioned ‘his divinity’ = the woman he loves – the object or reason of noble conduct. This is, of course, false and at best make-believe. The woman is another fallen human-being with a soul in peril. But combined and harmonized with religion (as long ago it was, producing much of that beautiful devotion to Our Lady that has been God’s way of refining so much our gross manly natures and emotions, and also of warming and colouring our hard, bitter, religion) it can be very noble. Then it produces what I suppose is still felt, among those who retain even vestigiary Christianity, to be the highest ideal of love between man and woman. Yet I still think it has dangers. It is not wholly true, and it is not perfectly ‘theocentric’. It takes, or at any rate has in the past taken, the young man’s eye off women as they are, as companions in shipwreck not guiding stars. (One result is for observation of the actual to make the young man turn cynical.) To forget their desires, needs and temptations. It inculcates exaggerated notions of ‘true love’, as a fire from without, a permanent exaltation, unrelated to age, childbearing, and plain life, and unrelated to will and purpose. (One result of that is to make young folk look for a ‘love’ that will keep them always nice and warm in a cold world, without any effort of theirs; and the incurably romantic go on looking even in the squalor of the divorce courts).

Women really have not much part in all this, though they may use the language of romantic love, since it is so entwined in all our idioms. The sexual impulse makes women (naturally when unspoiled more unselfish) very sympathetic and understanding, or specially desirous of being so (or seeming so), and very ready to enter into all the interests, as far as they can, from ties to religion, of the young man they are attracted to. No intent necessarily to deceive: sheer instinct: the servient, helpmeet instinct, generously warmed by desire and young blood. Under this impulse they can in fact often achieve very remarkable insight and understanding, even of things otherwise outside their natural range: for it is their gift to be receptive, stimulated, fertilized (in many other matters than the physical) by the male. Every teacher knows that. How quickly an intelligent woman can be taught, grasp his ideas, see his point – and how (with rare exceptions) they can go no further, when they leave his hand, or when they cease to take a personal interest in him. But this is their natural avenue to love. Before the young woman knows where she is (and while the romantic young man, when he exists, is still sighing) she may actually ‘fall in love’. Which for her, an unspoiled natural young woman, means that she wants to become the mother of the young man’s children, even if that desire is by no means clear to her or explicit. And then things are going to happen: and they may be very painful and harmful, if things go wrong. Particularly if the young man only wanted a temporary guiding star and divinity (until he hitches his waggon to a brighter one), and was merely enjoying the flattery of sympathy nicely seasoned with a titillation of sex – all quite innocent, of course, and worlds away from ‘seduction’.

You may meet in life (as in literature¹) women who are flighty, or even plain wanton — I don’t refer to mere flirtatiousness, the sparring practice for the real combat, but to women who are too silly to take even love seriously, or are actually so depraved as to enjoy ‘conquests’, or even enjoy the giving of pain – but these are abnormalities, even though false teaching, bad upbringing, and corrupt fashions may encourage them. Much though modern conditions have changed feminine circumstances, and the detail of what is considered propriety, they have not changed natural instinct. A man has a life-work, a career, (and male friends), all of which could (and do where he has any guts) survive the shipwreck of ‘love’. A young woman, even one ‘economically independent’, as they say now (it usually really means economic subservience to male commercial employers instead of to a father or a family), begins to think of the ‘bottom drawer’ and dream of a home, almost at once. If she really falls in love, the shipwreck may really end on the rocks. Anyway women are in general much less romantic and more practical. Don’t be misled by the fact that they are more ‘sentimental’ in words – freer with ‘darling’, and all that. They do not want a guiding star. They may idealize a plain young man into a hero; but they don’t really need any such glamour either to fall in love or to remain in it. If they have any delusion it is that they can ‘reform’ men. They will take a rotter open-eyed, and even when the delusion of reforming him fails, go on loving him. They are, of course, much more realistic about the sexual relation. Unless perverted by bad contemporary fashions they do not as a rule talk ‘bawdy’; not because they are purer than men (they are not) but because they don’t find it funny. I have known those who pretended to, but it is a pretence. It may be intriguing, interesting, absorbing (even a great deal too absorbing) to them: but it is just plumb natural, a serious, obvious interest; where is the joke?

They have, of course, still to be more careful in sexual relations, for all the contraceptives. Mistakes are damaging physically and socially (and matrimonially). But they are instinctively, when uncorrupt, monogamous. Men are not. …. No good pretending. Men just ain’t, not by their animal nature. Monogamy (although it has long been fundamental to our inherited ideas) is for us men a piece of ‘revealed’ ethic, according to faith and not to the flesh. Each of us could healthily beget, in our 30 odd years of full manhood, a few hundred children, and enjoy the process. Brigham Young (I believe) was a healthy and happy man. It is a fallen world, and there is no consonance between our bodies, minds, and souls.

However, the essence of a fallen world is that the best cannot be attained by free enjoyment, or by what is called ‘self-realization’ (usually a nice name for self-indulgence, wholly inimical to the realization of other selves); but by denial, by suffering. Faithfulness in Christian marriage entails that: great mortification. For a Christian man there is no escape. Marriage may help to sanctify & direct to its proper object his sexual desires; its grace may help him in the struggle; but the struggle remains. It will not satisfy him – as hunger may be kept off by regular meals. It will offer as many difficulties to the purity proper to that state, as it provides easements. No man, however truly he loved his betrothed and bride as a young man, has lived faithful to her as a wife in mind and body without deliberate conscious exercise of the will, without self-denial. Too few are told that — even those brought up ‘in the Church’. Those outside seem seldom to have heard it. When the glamour wears off, or merely works a bit thin, they think they have made a mistake, and that the real soul-mate is still to find. The real soul-mate too often proves to be the next sexually attractive person that comes along. Someone whom they might indeed very profitably have married, if only —. Hence divorce, to provide the ‘if only’. And of course they are as a rule quite right: they did make a mistake. Only a very wise man at the end of his life could make a sound judgement concerning whom, amongst the total possible chances, he ought most profitably to have married! Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might have found more suitable mates. But the ‘real soul-mate’ is the one you are actually married to. You really do very little choosing: life and circumstance do most of it (though if there is a God these must be His instruments, or His appearances). It is notorious that in fact happy marriages are more common where the ‘choosing’ by the young persons is even more limited, by parental or family authority, as long as there is a social ethic of plain unromantic responsibility and conjugal fidelity. But even in countries where the romantic tradition has so far affected social arrangements as to make people believe that the choosing of a mate is solely the concern of the young, only the rarest good fortune brings together the man and woman who are really as it were ‘destined’ for one another, and capable of a very great and splendid love. The idea still dazzles us, catches us by the throat: poems and stories in multitudes have been written on the theme, more, probably, than the total of such loves in real life (yet the greatest of these tales do not tell of the happy marriage of such great lovers, but of their tragic separation; as if even in this sphere the truly great and splendid in this fallen world is more nearly achieved by ‘failure’ and suffering). In such great inevitable love, often love at first sight, we catch a vision, I suppose, of marriage as it should have been in an unfallen world. In this fallen world we have as our only guides, prudence, wisdom (rare in youth, too late in age), a clean, heart, and fidelity of will.….

My own history is so exceptional, so wrong and imprudent in nearly every point that it makes it difficult to counsel prudence. Yet hard cases make bad law; and exceptional cases are not always good guides for others. For what it is worth here is some autobiography – mainly on this occasion directed towards the points of age, and finance.

I fell in love with your mother at the approximate age of 18. Quite genuinely, as has been shown – though of course defects of character and temperament have caused me often to fall below the ideal with which I started. Your mother was older than I, and not a Catholic. Altogether unfortunate, as viewed by a guardian. And it was in a sense very unfortunate; and in a way very bad for me. These things are absorbing and nervously exhausting. I was a clever boy in the throes of work for (a very necessary) Oxford scholarship. The combined tensions nearly produced a bad breakdown. I muffed my exams and though (as years afterwards my H[ead] M[aster] told me) I ought to have got a good scholarship, I only landed by the skin of my teeth an exhibition of £60 at Exeter: just enough with a school leaving scholarship] of the same amount to come up on (assisted by my dear old guardian). Of course there was a credit side, not so easily seen by the guardian. I was clever, but not industrious or single-minded; a large pan of my failure was due simply to not working (at least not at classics) not because I was in love, but because I was studying something else: Gothic and what not. Having the romantic upbringing I made a boy-and-girl affair serious, and made it the source of effort. Naturally rather a physical coward, I passed from a despised rabbit on a house second-team to school colours in two seasons. All that sort of thing. However, trouble arose: and I had to choose between disobeying and grieving (or deceiving) a guardian who had been a father to me, more than most real fathers, but without any obligation, and ‘dropping’ the love-affair until I was 21. I don’t regret my decision, though it was very hard on my lover. But that was not my fault. She was perfectly free and under no vow to me, and I should have had no just complaint (except according to the unreal romantic code) if she had got married to someone else. For very nearly three years I did not see or write to my lover. It was extremely hard, painful and bitter, especially at first. The effects were not wholly good: I fell back into folly and slackness and misspent a good deal of my first year at College. But I don’t think anything else would have justified marriage on the basis of a boy’s affair; and probably nothing else would have hardened the will enough to give such an affair (however genuine a case of true love) permanence. On the night of my 21st birthday I wrote again to your mother – Jan. 3, 1913. On Jan. 8th I went back to her, and became engaged, and informed an astonished family. I picked up my socks and did a spot of work (too late to save Hon. Mods. from disaster) – and then war broke out the next year, while I still had a year to go at college. In those days chaps joined up, or were scorned publicly. It was a nasty cleft to be in, especially for a young man with too much imagination and little physical courage. No degree: no money: fiancée. I endured the obloquy, and hints becoming outspoken from relatives, stayed up, and produced a First in Finals in 1915. Bolted into the army: July 1915. I found the situation intolerable and married on March 22, 1916. May found me crossing the Channel (I still have the verse I wrote on the occasion!) for the carnage of the Somme.

Think of your mother! Yet I do not now for a moment feel that she was doing more than she should have been asked to do – not that that detracts from the credit of it. I was a young fellow, with a moderate degree, and apt to write verse, a few dwindling pounds p. a. (£20 – 40), and no prospects, a Second Lieut. on 7/6 a day in the infantry where the chances of survival were against you heavily (as a subaltern). She married me in 1916 and John was born in 1917 (conceived and carried during the starvation-year of 1917 and the great U-Boat campaign) round about the battle of Cambrai, when the end of the war seemed as far-off as it does now. I sold out, and spent to pay the nursing-home, the last of my few South African shares, ‘my patrimony’.

Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament. …. There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves upon earth, and more than that: Death: by the divine paradox, that which ends life, and demands the surrender of all, and yet by the taste (or foretaste) of which alone can what you seek in your earthly relationships (love, faithfulness, joy) be maintained, or take on that complexion of reality, of eternal endurance, which every man’s heart desires.”

So how about you? What beliefs about love, sex, and, marriage does Tolkien challenge? Add your comments below.

In honor of Veterans Day, a heartfelt word of thanks to all of you who have served or are serving in America’s armed forces.  Thank you for your willingness to train, to suffer hardship, to experience separation from your loved ones, and to put your life at risk for your countrymen.

My father-in-law (front row, right end) and the rest of the bomber crew. Note their B-24 Liberator in the background.

My late father-in-law was a veteran of World War II,  He was one of four brothers, all of whom were drafted away from their family farm in rural Tennessee.

After completing his training, he became a Technical Sergeant in the Army Air Corps — the precursor to the US Air Force.   His responsibilities included making in-flight repairs and serving as a waist gunner aboard a B-24 Liberator bomber in the European theater, as part of the Mighty Eighth Air Force.

Like many men of his generation, he rarely talked about his experiences during the war, downplaying the danger and his role.  “It was late in the war by the time I got over there,” he always said.   Once when my grandmother asked if he had ever been to Germany, he gave a slight smile and said, “No, but I’ve been over it.”

Following the war, he returned to the farm for a while before enrolling in Tennessee Tech on the GI Bill.  Following his graduation from college, he earned a doctorate in agronomy and genetics from the University of Wisconsin.

With his PhD, he took a position as a research agronomist with the US Department of Agriculture and was assigned to a research station at a large state university.  He worked there the rest of his career, developing numerous soybean cultivars that fed millions and teaching graduate students from around the world.

As distinguished as his career was, he was also a devoted husband and father, raising my wife and her siblings in a godly household.

Over the past dozen years or so, we have seen popular sentiment regarding military service return to an appropriate level of respect and gratitude.  This is as it should be.

At the same time, I hear and read some people saying that the US is no longer worthy of such devotion or service.  I am not here to argue for or against — especially not with those who have served.  On this occasion, however, I want to commend those who, like my father-in-law, saw their duty, did it and came home to build an exemplary life.  This is still a county that produces such men.  That is worth preserving.

So how about you?   What lessons did you learn from your own military service, or that of your friends or family members?  How are you using that wisdom to be your best?  Add your comments below.

“But it does make a difference if you hurt your friend terribly, risking his eternal ruin! When you hurt your friend, you hurt Christ. A free meal here and there isn’t worth it at the cost of even one of these “weak ones.” So, never go to these idol-tainted meals if there’s any chance it will trip up one of your brothers or sisters.” – St. Paul from 1 Corinthians 8 (MSG)

As I write, the South Carolina legislature is considering whether to remove the Confederate battle flag from the confederate war memorial on the State House grounds. The state Senate voted overwhelmingly in favor, and the straw polling among members of the House of Representatives suggests the results in that chamber will be the same. Governor Nikki Haley has already indicated her willingness to sign such a bill, so it seems the Confederate battle flag will move to the Confederate relic room.

The signals are clear where the flag is concerned. (photo credit: Leeroy)

A little bit of (personal) history

In an earlier post, I explained that I am the great-grandson of a Civil War veteran. My grandfather was the youngest of eleven children born to his father, who had served as a private in the 30th Regiment, North Carolina Infantry. My grandfather was a teenager when his father passed away.

I say this to establish that the war and its significance — and the family ties — are all quite strong, so this is not abstract theory for me. Even though I am proud of my family and I am eligible to join any of the historical societies established for descendents of Confederate soldiers, and even though I could assert a right to display the confederate battle flag, I choose not to do so. I want to explain why by means of the following thought experiment.

The picture on the night table

Imagine for a moment that you’re married and that your wife has decided to place a matted, framed picture of her college boyfriend on the night table beside the bed the two of you share. In addition to finding it bizarre, you find it offensive, especially since you know their relationship was serious and you suspect he may have taken liberties with the woman who is now your wife. And because you love your wife, you have a healthy level of jealousy.

When you express your disapproval, she explains to you that you’re misinterpreting the symbolism and that you don’t understand what a great guy he is. When you counter that you do not approve of the face of her ex-boyfriend gazing over the marriage bed, your marriage bed, she explains she is commemorating a bygone era and some fond memories. When you say that her displaying of the photo suggests she would prefer to be in his arms instead of yours, she says that’s silly — she’s just honoring the past. “And besides, it’s a great picture!”

In a healthy marriage, no such display would take place, and pictures of or with old flames, if any, would be in boxes or photo albums.

Free to choose

I don’t presume to speak for all African-Americans, but I have heard enough of my black friends express views on the Confederate battle flag similar to the husband in the thought experiment above. Whatever virtues the old South possessed — and I would argue that there were many — the Confederate battle flag has been tainted by its connection to the evil of slavery and through its adoption by bigots of the vilest sort.

While I acknowledge and believe in the sincerity and good faith of those who argue “Heritage not Hate,” there are enough instances to the contrary to make the Confederate battle flag an unsuitable symbol. For this reason, I choose not to exercise my liberty or to assert my rights when to do so causes pain to people I love, and I do not support its display on government property. However, I believe private citizens should be free to make up their own minds, just as I have done.

Love your neighbor

In the first century, the issue in the church was whether it was proper for Christians to eat meat that had been sacrificed to idols. Paul the apostle instructed believers in Jesus to understand that their freedom to eat this meat must be tempered by consideration for the well-being of others. When we choose this because we are motivated by the love of God to love our neighbors, it is a beautiful thing.

Where do we go next?

Some people believe this gesture of goodwill from South Carolina should be the beginning of a cultural purge.  In this view, all Confederate monuments — from statues and cemeteries, to public streets, to toys, to cars on television shows, to colleges and universities named for Confederate generals — should be renamed, removed or paved over. I think this is a terrible idea, no matter where you line up.

Let’s agree first that this attempt to erase the past is a fool’s errand. In the age of the internet, it simply won’t work. Second, let’s recognize that this is the sort of book-burning impulse that people on the left used to regard as a hallmark of fascism. Third, note who else in the world is going about destroying ancient monuments. I won’t name names but their initials are I-S-I-L. And last, knowledge of our history — good and bad — is valuable to ensure we learn from the past as we build our common life. That kind of civic-mindedness and genuine grace doesn’t come from compulsory groupthink.

If we ban or eradicate every vestige of the past, we deny ourselves the opportunity to appreciate the tremendous progress we have made as a country. So now we find ourselves at or very near the end of what law can do to make men virtuous. That won’t stop some people, however.

So how about you? How can you show love to your neighbor around this issue? Add your comments below.

In honor of Veterans Day, a heartfelt word of thanks to all of you who have served or are serving in America’s armed forces.  Thank you for your willingness to train, to suffer hardship, to experience separation from your loved ones, and to put your life at risk for your countrymen.

My father-in-law (front row, right end) and the rest of the bomber crew. Note their B-24 Liberator in the background.

My late father-in-law was a veteran of World War II,  He was one of four brothers, all of whom were drafted away from their family farm in rural Tennessee.

After completing his training, he became a Technical Sergeant in the Army Air Corps — the precursor to the US Air Force.   His responsibilities included making in-flight repairs and serving as a waist gunner aboard a B-24 Liberator bomber in the European theater, as part of the Mighty Eighth Air Force.

Like many men of his generation, he rarely talked about his experiences during the war, downplaying the danger and his role.  “It was late in the war by the time I got over there,” he always said.   Once when my grandmother asked if he had ever been to Germany, he gave a slight smile and said, “No, but I’ve been over it.”

Following the war, he returned to the farm for a while before enrolling in Tennessee Tech on the GI Bill.  Following his graduation from college, he earned a doctorate in agronomy and genetics from the University of Wisconsin.

With his PhD, he took a position as a research agronomist with the US Department of Agriculture and was assigned to a research station at a large state university.  He worked there the rest of his career, developing numerous soybean cultivars that fed millions and teaching graduate students from around the world.

As distinguished as his career was, he was also a devoted husband and father, raising my wife and her siblings in a godly household.

Over the past dozen years or so, we have seen popular sentiment regarding military service return to an appropriate level of respect and gratitude.  This is as it should be.

At the same time, I hear and read some people saying that the US is no longer worthy of such devotion or service.  I am not here to argue for or against — especially not with those who have served.  On this occasion, however, I want to commend those who, like my father-in-law, saw their duty, did it and came home to build an exemplary life.  This is still a county that produces such men.  That is worth preserving.

So how about you?   What lessons did you learn from your own military service, or that of your friends or family members?  How are you using that wisdom to be your best?  Add your comments below.