In 2008, I was deployed for 6 months to Afghanistan, to a war-planning post at HQ International Support and Assistance Force (ISAF) in Kabul. As a logistician it was a lot of fun working with ‘teeth-arms’ in a multi-national, but mainly American environment, making war plans with an array of international colleagues.
One of these colleagues was a German lieutenant colonel. He was an engineer battalion commanding officer, deployed to Afghanistan during his tour in command. I worked with Jurgen and others for many hours each day; discussing options and ideas, weighing thoughts and comparing notes in order to refine our planning before presenting these plans to a one-star, 2-star and then the 4-star general. It was very handy having a German officer on hand to ask guidance on the finer details on the NATO planning procedure.
Jurgen was working on the forthcoming elections in Afghanistan. That day, like many others, he was due to visit one of the regional Afghan offices responsible for organising voting in its area. But something was wrong with Jurgen.
I noticed Jurgen was pacing back and forth to his desk, collecting, depositing and re-collecting small items. He was dressed in his ‘battle rattle’ with weapon, personal armour and all, and his face looked drawn and concerned. I wondered what to do? Although we worked together in the same team, I was a major and as a lieutenant colonel he was my superior. Should I be drawing attention to his clear anxiety? Yet we were about the same age.
I kept a small Bible in a jacket pocket and, asking the Lord what I should say or share, I approached him, took out the Bible and flicked to Psalm 91. I stood close to him and spoke quietly. I said I found this Psalm a great help and read it to him.
As I read his shoulders relaxed and he breathed deeply, like a sigh. He stopped and listened. When I had finished reading, I prayed for him, about his imminent journey. I thanked God for Jurgen and God’s presence with him as he travelled about his military business.
Once I’d stopped and we were still, he looked up, clearly more relaxed and calmer, and thanked me for praying. Afterwards, when he’d returned to the HQ, we never spoke about the psalm or the prayer. Indeed, we never had another conversation about God or faith. I still don’t know whether or not he believed in God or Jesus Christ, but on that day, I think he did.
I thank God for the prompt to get up and pray for that German lieutenant colonel. And I thank God for the peace He imparted to him that day. God is an ever-present and well-proven help in times of trouble.