It was Veterans Day weekend, 1986. I was in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to speak at a church to honor those who served and to share the story of God’s grace and healing in my life due to the trauma of war. I was also scheduled to appear on a major TV network in town.
The network put me up in a very nice hotel in downtown Milwaukee. Breakfast was included, so I picked up a copy of the Chicago Tribune outside my door and went to the restaurant. Back then, you dressed up for things like that. I wore a suit, so I felt comfortable in the business crowd in the restaurant. I sat down, ordered breakfast, and sipped my coffee as I looked through the Veterans Day supplement to the paper.
On the front page was a letter left at “The Wall,” the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, DC. It was written by a 26-year-old young woman to her father. He died in Vietnam when she was six years old. As I began to read, a surge of emotions suddenly rose up, and I felt like I was going to start weeping. I put the paper down and picked up my coffee, casually looking around to see if anyone noticed. I picked the paper back up but felt the tears gathering, so I put it down again.
I managed to keep control during the TV interview, but when I returned to my room, I got down on my knees and prayed, “Lord, what is going on?” I heard the “still small voice” of the Holy Spirit say, “Son, I want to take away the guilt you’ve carried all these years because you came home and your friends did not.” But the pain was too much, so I did what I had apparently always done: stuffed everything back down inside.
A year went by, and after nearly 14 years of trying to go back to Vietnam, an opportunity opened up with a new ministry of Christian Vietnam veterans called Vets With a Mission. This group was taking a fact-finding trip to see how Christian veterans could minister to the people of Vietnam. When I received the itinerary, I realized we were going through the village where my whole squad died in an ambush, but I survived. I still carried the guilt 23 years later.
In December at a Teen Challenge retreat, my staff said they wanted to pray for me before the trip. I began to tell them about how I felt the Lord wanted to do something on this trip, and about my going back to the place where I survived but my friends did not. As I tried to say the words, however, a flood of emotions swept over me and I began to weep … and weep … and weep. Afterwards, I knew a huge weight had lifted off of me.
I had assumed the Lord wanted to do something in Vietnam. He had other plans. God wanted me to experience His healing before I ever set foot back in the country where my life had been radically changed. My Heavenly Father knew I needed His healing before I left.
When I became a Christian 14 years earlier, the nightmares I carried were gone. The bondage of alcohol addiction was also gone. I thought Vietnam was behind me. Scripture says, “We are fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:14)
I don’t know why there were so many years in between the healing of my emotional wounds. Obviously, God knew I was going to need it before I went back to Vietnam. Even then, I was afraid to let go and trust His love for me and the freedom He had for me.
If you’re going through life with wounds from your past, you don’t have to keep the pain inside. You can find healing in the arms of your Heavenly Father. Jesus said it best: “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)
It’s time to let go and let God!
Semper Fidelis
