“Wounded Warriors” – Yet Another True Tale

The reactions I get from people when they find out I’m a singer/song writer/recording artist are pretty amusing. The, “Oh, you’re one of those people, trying to ‘make it big.’ Good luck, honey. Way to be ambitious” looks make me want to laugh/cry/scream/hide in a dark corner (depending on what mood I’m in). I usually either get that sort of reaction or a disgusted/condescending look that often coincides with my favorite question, “What’s your real job/do you work?”

My alarm went off at 4:00 this morning. I leaped out of bed, determined to get ready in record time so I could properly load the van I should have loaded the night before, but didn’t because I was too exhausted from rolling back into town after a week of minimal sleep/rest. I was out of the shower in five minutes, threw on something I hadn’t even thought about wearing, shrugging, “It works,” and had my hair blow-dried within 15 minutes. I lugged the keyboard case from the junk room and down the stairs, threw the papers/writing utensils cluttering my writing space on the floor, and disassembled the keyboard, stool, etc. all in probably two minutes flat. I dragged the case through the garage, grabbed the van keys, stormed boldly into the crisp, 20 degree air, and pushed “unlock.” I had everything pretty much ready-to-load, all I needed to do was open the back hatch and get to it.

That was the first problem. The back door of the van would not budge—at all. No matter how many times I tried, no matter what I did, it was stuck. “Hmmm…” I opened the sliding door and crawled to the back, trying to find a way to open it from the inside. Apparently these types of vans (good old Mercury Villager’s from the 90’s) don’t let you open the back door from the inside. “Great.”

I called my mom outside and both of us tried, without success, to fix this problem. We realized we were using precious time, so we said, “Let’s just take out the van seats and load it from the side.” This wasn’t going to be as convenient, but it would work right?

Wrong. The seats wouldn’t budge. “Oh boy…” I turned around and stared at the amount of equipment that needed to somehow be squeezed into the mini van and sighed. “Oh well!” Unsure if I was going to be able to fit everything, I began throwing (more like heaving) the monitors, speakers, and 75+ pound amplifier through the sliding door and up onto the flattened back seat. After a while it became clear that things were going to be tight. I made a quick decision (which, fortunately, ended up working out) to leave my guitar (though this was painful for me—I heart my Taylor!) at home and just take the keyboard. After a while, the van was loaded, and I was already starting to feel my little body screaming at me for not being more careful when lifting heavy objects. (Legs, not back, legs, not back…)

It was 5:00am when I finished. My hands were bleeding (yes, bleeding) and I was so ready for Starbucks… since our Starbucks doesn’t open at such an ungodly hour, I made myself some oatmeal (putting a touch of peanut butter in it, of course), and crammed the steaming (yes, I burned my mouth) grub into my mouth while Googling “God Bless America.” I ended up watching some random super-star singing it on YouTube just to ensure I really did know the melody/words (it had been requested that I include it in my set).

At 5:25am I once again ran into the refreshing (?!), crisp, morning air, jumped in the car and began driving to Ft. Gordon (well, I rode, mom drove), praying all the way there that the Lord would somehow use my small efforts to touch the men and women who would be present at the event.

A little before 6:00am, we arrived at the Ft. Gordon Club. I noticed a black pick-up truck which I assumed belonged to the chaplain who was to help unload the equipment. When I saw the Florida Gator stuff on his car, I should have known things were only destined to go downhill from there….

I have to be honest I was a little stressed out. I knew I only had one hour (the building could not be opened until six and the breakfast started at seven) to unload the van, set up a sound system I hadn’t had to set up in over a year (I’ve been spoiled lately), do a sound check, get comfortable, etc. But, as always, I knew the Lord would be with me to give me wisdom and strength.

After unloading the van and lugging the gear inside (thankful for help), I began to work (I won’t bore you with the details). After a while I began to feel overwhelmed and frustrated. Nothing was going right. The speakers wouldn’t work, the keyboard wouldn’t play . . . and I couldn’t figure out where to plug in the monitor because everything had to go through the amp, then through the board (again, a simple concept, but it just wasn’t happening). The officers, chaplains, etc. began arriving and my stress level began to rise.

Please understand: I’m pretty flexible when it comes to stuff like this. After over ten years of doing this sort of thing, I’ve learned to live by the “go with it” motto. But I knew that people had worked very hard to plan this event and that they were counting on me to do what they had called upon me to do—and if the sound system wasn’t working, it couldn’t be done.

A few minutes (yes, minutes) before the opening prayer, one of the officers came up and asked if I needed help. I, of course, said yes. Somehow we managed to get the speakers working, the keyboard playing, and the mic turned on. The next thing I knew (seriously, SECONDS after this started working), one of the chaplain’s began to speak . . . this meant no sound check. No levels. Everything was just going to be where it was going to be . . . (I had no sound person to run the board). “Oh well!” again.

After the prayer, breakfast was served, and a few minutes later I was announced. I made a couple of jokes about the sound system, letting everyone know that I had no idea what the levels were like, that I would do my best not to damage their eardrums, and that if it was painful, not to worry, I’d be done soon, etc.. (I also mentioned something about their obvious need for entertainment—why else would they ask someone to come and sing at 7:00AM? ;o) ) To my dismay (this is truly a sad thing if you play the piano) I realized during the first few notes of the first song that the sustaining pedal was not working either.

But, doing my best to ignore the problem, I played and sang, knowing that in the end, all that mattered was that Jesus was present, that He would be glorified, and that hearts would be touched, encouraged, and strengthened in some way. The first song, “Face to Face” was a reminder of what truly matters in life. The next song, “Whisper in the Dark” was one the Lord whispered into my spirit this very morning—I knew it was a message for this group. (Side note: “Whisper in the Dark” is a chordy song. Chordy songs need a sustaining pedal or they sound choppy. But I’m not bitter.)

During the days preceding this event, I had been thinking a lot about healing—about the importance of having an open and tender heart toward the Holy Spirit—and how easy it is to become “hardened” to His touch.

When we think of “hardness” we often think of meanness. But I think hardness, in matters of the heart and spirit, at least, is often the result of pain. When we have been hurt, we have a tendency to “shut out” anything or anyone that might make us “feel” again, or that might make us remember things that we have done our best to forget. When we do this, we often shut God out, too.

When I have shared “Whisper in the Dark” during my concerts in the past, I’ve used the verses in Ezekiel that talk about God taking out our “heart of stone” and giving us a new heart, etc., usually making reference to our sin and disobedience (Ezekiel 36:25-29). But this time, I played and sang it with a different perspective. While it is true that God wants to remove our “heart of stone,” the heart that refuses to allow Him to govern our lives, it is
also true that God wants to remove the “heart of stone” that has become hard as a result of pain. He wants to heal us, to breathe His life into us, to make us new, like faith-filled children, so that we can receive the healing that flows when we simply abide in His presence.

I’ve said this often, but I think it’s so important to remember: Christians aren’t guaranteed “easy passage” in life. Just because we know the Father of Creation, doesn’t mean that we are exempt from the trials and sufferings of humanity. The men and women at Ft. Gordon know this well. Every day they see, hear about, and even experience things that most of us could not even imagine. But the people I met today have not, in spite of their difficulties, and all of the pain they have experienced (or have seen others experience) allowed themselves to become “hard.” They are truly heroes, because, instead of giving up when things are tough, they keep going, keep trusting, keep hoping in the God they can’t see, in the God whose ways are beyond figuring out, because they know His thoughts are on them. They know His love and have experienced His goodness, and because of that, they want to share it with others.

The breakfast today was for “Wounded Warriors.” But I also think this message is for the many wounded warriors who aren’t necessarily in the Military, but who are in the army of God. Don’t give up. Don’t let yourself become “hardened” because of difficulties/hurts in the past, present, or future. Let the Holy Spirit come and take that “heart of stone,” let Him make your faith alive and new again.

This isn’t easy. I’m facing this myself. But the first step to healing is confession, and I think I’ve done that now.

Whisper in the Dark

By: Stephanie Staples

Father take me as Your own
Father break me, remove this heart of stone

Father remake me, purify me

Clean out all that is inside me

So I’ll know Your life

And I know that You have saved me, Lord You’ve saved me

And I ask You now to raise me, Father, raise me

That I may walk in life

Father You’ve let me know Your presence

And Father You’ve shown me You’re all I’ll ever need

And Father You’ve given me Your Spirit

To lead me and to guide me

This I know: Your light

And I know that You have saved me,

Lord You’ve saved me

And I ask You now to raise me, Father, raise me

Oh won’t You whisper in the dark

Shine Your light into my heart

That I may live to sing Your praise and seek Your face

‘Cause I know that You have called me,

Lord, You’ve called me

And I ask You now to use me, Father use me

Won’t You whisper in the dark

Shine Your light into my heart

That I may live to sing Your praise and seek Your face

‘Cause I love the way You move me,

Lord, You move me

And I love the way You soothe me,

Lord You soothe me

You whisper in the dark

©2004 Stephanie Staples

Before I left, the General, who was gracious enough to come to the breakfast and share a word from his heart, came up to me and handed me a coin. The officer’s who saw the gift, told me that it is a great honor to receive one, especially from a General (apparently they are not given lightly). That, along with the sweetness of knowing God moved in hearts, in spite of a broken van and a not up-to-par sound system/keyboard, made this morning’s ministry time so special to me. Both the coin, and the memory of today are treasures I will cherish. (Click here for a picture of the coin).

For those who are considering music ministry, please remember something: it’s not about you. The precious opportunities given to you by God are not to be taken lightly. Brave the cold, bear the burdens, and deal with the frustrations and the heartaches. It will all be worth it in the end, when we realize that God took what little we had and multiplied it (Mt 15:32-38) to refresh and strengthen others. Sing the songs He sings over you and always consider His agenda your own.

P.S. I forgot to mention that when I arrived I was told that I was not, in fact, going to be leading “God Bless America” but that I was actually supposed to sing “America the Beautiful.” Good thing they had the words…

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