Community,

For those of you that do not yet know me, my name is Paul James. I first came to Community Church about three years ago with my family in search of a new home and family in Christ. My brothers and I also desperately needed to find a church that strongly supported a youth group so that we may continue to grow stronger with our Father and know Him personally. We were blessed to find you and call you our family.

Today, though you may, or may not yet know me as Paul, I am now known by my peers and co-workers as A1C James. Six months ago I took a bold step forward and gave an oath to defend my country as an Airmen of the United States Air Force. I surprised both family and friends, and nearly gave my mother a heart attack. I was the one that friends and teachers in high school expected to become a politician, or some software developer. The last thing I, myself, expected was to be wearing a uniform of the military.

Over the last half year I have learned so much more than any college kid, any politician, or any software developer could ever imagine. I have learned the true values of camaraderie, humility, and perseverance.

I have not been to war yet, and I know I will not experience the same kind of war that those have that have gone before me. I will never experience the trenches of WWI, or the bloody beaches of WWII. I will not experience the ruthless ambushes of Vietnam, or the guerilla tactics of the Korean War. I am not decorated up to my shoulder with ribbons, nor do my sleeves bear much of a rank. But I’ll tell you that I share the fear that every man has before being deployed. Will the uniform that I wear come back to this country with a red stain? Will I come back at all? Will a wingman go down next to me? Will it be up to me to save his life, or tell his family what happened?

I get a shiver down my spine sometimes when I wake up and put on my Airman Battle Uniform, but I quickly overcome the fear by reminding myself why I’m doing this. Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather, the realization that there is something more important than fear.

During my training at Camp Bullis, near Fort Sam Houston, Texas. I got to experience one of the toughest physical training exercises of my life. When we were doing lunges, every step I took, keeping my knee exactly one inch from the sweat-drenched concrete, I said a name. A name of a family member, of a friend, of a wingman. I said God, Jesus, Savior, and Redeemer. I said Protector and Guardian.

“The body will not fail unless the mind lets it,” our instructor yelled.

I looked over at a 35-year-old man struggle to keep up with the rest of us. He came into the Air Force pushing the age-limit. Suddenly, I saw a friend stop and move back to stay with him. Four more joined them, and soon all us fell back to get on line with them. We all took our lunges in step, calling cadence. Yes, were crying in pain, hoping that this was the last exercise, but we couldn’t stop. Not now, not when there was a friend still out there. I glanced over at our instructor, standing there in his ABUs, with arms crossed over his chest. The bill of his cap shadowed his eyes, but the grin on his face was as clear as day. He came out here to deliver a lesson as we had made a series of serious mistakes as a team, but he knew we had learned our lesson.

I know that what I’m doing may sound crazy; and to some, a pointless sacrifice. But I know that what I’m doing is more than a Hollywood stunt, it’s a dedication to stand up for what I believe in. An opportunity to see just how strong my faith really is. Along with learning our lesson in unity that morning, I learned that my strength didn’t come from my training, or my mental drive alone. It came from a power far greater.

I told the congregation last time when I came down for a visit in honor of Veteran’s Day, that there is an army far more powerful than that of the United States’. That’s the army of God. We don’t have technology, or an intimidating arsenal of weapons. We don’t have fancy uniforms, or marching traditions. What we do have however, is our faith and each other. That 35-year-old man probably would have given up if his team didn’t come back for him. The church, as in all of Christianity, would be broken if we didn’t unite under one common belief: that we have a Father; and He loves us. Through Him, anything is possible. Whether it’s moving a mountain, or taking more than 300 lunges at 0500 hrs in the morning, after 100 push-ups, 60 sit-ups, three half-court duck-walks and crab-walks, constant jumping jacks while simply waiting your turn for those suicide sprints; and all the while, keeping the faith, and making sure you stay together, leaving no wingman behind.

This is my challenge to Community Church: When you sit down in church next time, ready to worship and listen to God’s word, look to your left, and then to your right. The people sitting next you, whether they are families, youth, elders, or even handicapped, I want you to let them know that you are their wingman, and that you have their back. Let them know that you will not let them fall behind; and that, together, you will fight the good fight, and come home.

You are Community.

Paul C James