From Classroom to Code Blue: How my First Emergency Changed Me

"code blue" free AI image www.gemini.google.com

   How often do you find yourself pondering the inevitability of life’s end? It's a sobering thought, and in my line of work, it is a daily reality-some patients reach the end of life. I believe that God has shown me his words are truthful through the experiences I have had working in the hospital. I have told others and shared my personal testimony that He has shown me how short life is through my work in the hospital. One of the ways that God's word comes to life for me is the Psalms, “Lord, reveal to me the end of my life and the number of my days. Let me know how transitory I am.” This may not come as a surprise, but it is not meant as amusement. It's a simple truth. 

    I want to share my first coding experience because it reflects the fragility of life. In the hospital, people get sick. Some we diagnose and treat, and they recover and leave, yet I've seen my share of other patients who come into the hospital and never leave. However, amid the solemnity, there is a quiet grace that often accompanies these end-of-life moments, an unspoken hope that lingers like a gentle whisper. It's a reminder that even in the face of life's end, there is a profound beauty in the time we have, enriching the morbid side of life that becomes very real when you work daily in intensive care units and procedure areas, constantly reminded of life's brevity. What scenes from your own life remind you that time is finite, prompting you to cherish each moment a little more deeply?

    My first experience with death was as a new graduate in the unit. This was a cardiac specialized unit. During each shift, we had five nurses caring for ten patients, providing a 2:1 nurse-to-patient ratio, with a relief charge nurse on hand. The unit was overseen by a director, and we had the support of a clinical nurse specialist. The position provided me with an opportunity, directly out of RN school, to practice under an emergency permit with the expectation that I would take my examination and licensing boards within six months of being hired. It was a great opportunity. I was enrolled in a new grad residency program that placed me in direct mentorship with a senior RN for 6 months, and I attended classes taught by nurse educators while working part-time in the unit and earning a salary. The mentorship extended to 12 months beyond the initial program. I thought I knew enough as an RN graduate, but I soon learned and was humbled in my first year caring for sick patients in the unit.

    Sadly, the very first time I coded a patient in their middle adult years who recently had heart surgery, I remember when the patient came into the unit and reported not "feeling right." The patient had just recently completed a physical endurance event, and their body weight and frame revealed nothing out of the ordinary. As a new nurse, I had been studying in my off time about our patient population of heart failure, but I did not recognize at the time how sick the patient was. I started electrocardiogram (ECG) monitoring, which continuously monitors the heart’s electrical conduction, and we continuously monitored a waveform on the monitor, along with blood pressure and pulse oximetry, to provide up-to-date vital signs regarding the patient's hemodynamics. Our physician had ordered that the patient receive a SWAN/GANS catheter, a lumen catheter inserted from the right side of the neck through the jugular vein and placed just above the right atrium of the heart in the superior vena cava. You can think of it as a pressure gauge for the heart; it measures pressures in the different chambers and provides real-time data on heart function, specifically cardiac output, which is how much blood the heart pumps in a given amount of time. If the heart is weak and damaged, the cardiac output is not that of a healthy heart. I hope this makes sense. Anyway, my patient’s heart was sick and needed to be optimized.

    In the medical sense, optimization for patients with worsening heart failure means the healthcare team starts using medicines to reduce the workload on the heart. This is accomplished in different ways, such as lowering volume through fluid restriction and diuresis with medications, as well as by using medicines that affect the heart directly, such as positive inotropes, beta-blockers, and anti-arrhythmic medications, to assist the heart and improve heart function. For example, some patients who have undergone a heart transplant take other anti-rejection medications and immunosuppressive medications to further optimize the body so that it does not aggressively reject foreign tissue. As I left for the day, a mix of emotions ran through me—anxiety about the precarious balance we had to maintain in optimizing the patient's treatment and a determination to make a difference in their care. My patient was admitted to the unit overnight, and I left that evening and would return the next day. In our unit, we would practice continuity of care, and basically, if you were on shift and were coming back the next day, you would get the same assignment as the previous one because you knew the patient. It makes giving reports a lot easier because you are familiar with the patient.

    The next day, when I came into work, I received my patient assignments.  I took care of this individual the next day and, after a brief rundown of the night before, assumed care of my patient and began my assessment.  As an RN, we start the shift with a thorough patient assessment and chart checks, including reviewing completed physician orders and administering prescribed therapies.  I remember doing my physical assessment, talking to the patient, listening to the lungs and heart, and at the time, the lungs were clear. I also listened to the heart sounds; S1 and S2 were faint. Those are the “lub-dub, lub-dub” sounds one hears when auscultating (listening) over the heart.  I remember them being faint, and I checked the EKG on the monitor and saw the voltage was low. The EKG showed a dampened or weak rhythm compared to a normal rhythm.

    The patient's demeanor began to shift as the morning wore on. They sat slightly hunched, their breathing more labored, and though the monitor still showed a pulse oximetry above 94% on room air, something felt different. Their skin took on a clammy, pallid tone, and a fine sheen of perspiration covered their forehead. When the patient whispered, "I don't feel well," the vulnerability in their voice resonated deeply with me. In that moment, I recognized the importance of not just clinical data but listening closely to what my patients were telling me. This became a turning point in my practice—reminding me that behind every monitor and assessment is a person whose words and instincts can reveal what numbers sometimes cannot. From that day forward, I promised myself to always honor the human experience in my patient assessments, especially in those quiet moments when a patient expresses discomfort or fear.

    But I, caught up in my routine, continued to assess my other patient that morning, following the usual process. I began by entering each room, quickly scanning the environment for safety hazards and equipment issues. I checked the monitors for vital signs, greeted my patients to gauge their responsiveness, and examined the intravenous drips—confirming flow rates, dosages, and that all IV sites were intact and free from complications. This was my standard workflow before moving on to the comprehensive, head-to-toe assessment later in the shift.

    When it was time for morning medications, I carefully prepared and administered oral medications, including Lasix—a potent diuretic that helps the heart by reducing excess fluid in the body. I helped patients with breakfast, updated my charts, and checked for new physician orders for our unit secretary to process. To put the importance of Lasix into perspective: think about how, every time you drink water and later urinate, your body is quietly working to maintain a delicate internal balance. In healthy individuals, the heart and kidneys work in harmony to maintain fluid levels just right. As nurses, we aim to support and restore that natural equilibrium, especially for those whose hearts can no longer manage on their own.

    However, in the presence of heart failure, a diseased heart, or acute rejection by the body, if you are taking in fluid, the heart is unable to compensate for the increased fluid volume, and the patient does not make urine to remove this extra volume because heart function is poor.  To assist the body in ridding itself of excess volume and to reduce the workload on the heart, diuretics help the kidneys expel excess fluid.   My patient received a dose of Lasix, and I remember leaving the room to continue with my activities of the day.

    I remember our unit had a nurse assistant, telling me that my patient had reported feeling 'dizzy.' This time, I immediately entered the room and recorded the blood pressure at 65/30. The patient was lying in bed, and I asked how they were doing; again, the patient reported feeling 'lightheaded.' I rechecked the blood pressure; however, the monitor did not register a sufficient systolic, diastolic, MAP, or mean arterial pressure. More importantly, the blood pressure was less than 50, and I knew this was not good, as I could not feel a radial pulse at all; it was weak and thready. I recall the unsettling sensation of the pulse slipping away beneath my fingertips, the warmth diminishing with each passing moment, leaving a cold imprint of urgency in its absence.

    Appropriately, I called one of the senior nurses into the room and reapplied the pressure. This time, the blood pressure was 50/34. The patient was reporting increased dizziness and not feeling well, and we immediately started intravenous dopamine to support the blood pressure. Not long after beginning the dopamine, the patient grabbed my arm and told me, "Brian, tell my family that I love them." I remember telling the patient, "You're going to tell them yourself. You are going to be alright; I am here." Those were the last words the patient ever spoke, and I was the last person to whom they were spoken. Imagine hearing that in your first months as a new graduate nurse, unprepared for this. The following moment I recall is a mega code that lasted at least 3 hours. Trying to resuscitate this patient was difficult and tiresome. We ran the code with CPR and drugs, and even a cardio-thoracic surgeon came to the bedside to put the patient on ECMO (extracorporeal membrane oxygenation). ECMO is a procedure in which a doctor inserts large-bore catheters into one’s femoral artery and vein, which are then connected to a machine that circulates and oxygenates the blood because the heart is unable to do so. It is incredibly invasive and gruesome to do in a chaotic environment.

    Walking out of the unit that day, exhausted and emotionally spent, I realized that nursing is as much about compassion and presence as it is about clinical skill. I learned that sometimes, despite doing everything right, the outcome can still be tragic—and that being there for a patient in their final moments is an act of profound humanity. This experience taught me to listen more closely to my patients, to trust my instincts, and to never underestimate the impact of a simple, reassuring word or gesture. Above all, I learned that every life, no matter how brief or fragile, deserves dignity, respect, and care. These lessons continue to shape me, both as a nurse and as a person, reminding me that in the face of loss, there is still space for empathy and growth.

Together in the struggle,

Brian

No More Hiding: Notes from 2 1/2 Years Sober

"sobriety test" free AI image www.gemini.google.com

In the journey of life, we often encounter choices that shape our paths and leave lasting impressions. Picture this: a young boy in Texas, peering over the fence of adolescence, clutching a cold Miller Lite in one hand and a Marlboro cigarette in the other. It was 8th grade, and the allure of rebellion seemed irresistible. The stress of fitting in and the desire for a quick escape from school's pressures fueled my actions. This image of naïve defiance serves as both a beginning and a powerful lesson. My story unfolds as a cautionary guide, revealing the lessons I learned the hard way, so you don’t have to walk the same treacherous road.

When I was a young boy, I started drinking and smoking—not to glorify those choices, but to be honest about my journey. These experiences shaped who I am today. I acknowledge my past, but I use it as a reminder of how far I’ve come and to encourage anyone reading this that change is possible. I’ve made mistakes; smoking and drinking are just a few. During my time in the Marines, these habits became a way to fill empty hours, but they never led to true fulfillment. What truly made a difference was having a few good friends by my side. Whenever I felt tempted to slip back into old habits, my buddies were there to support me, offering healthier alternatives and encouragement. If you’re facing similar struggles, seek out friends who lift you up, or try new activities—physical training, hobbies, or simply talking things through with someone you trust. These positive steps are not just distractions; they’re stepping stones to a richer, healthier life. Remember, every small choice in the right direction is a victory worth celebrating.

Although I used to enjoy a good whiskey or beer every so often, I have now been sober for over two and a half years—not a single drop has touched my lips. This change has brought real rewards: improved health, more energy, greater focus, and deeper, more meaningful time with my loved ones. The clarity and renewed sense of purpose I’ve gained are worth every challenge along the way. For those in the military or any high-responsibility role, the consequences of overindulgence can be severe—a DUI, for example, can delay promotions and impact your future. But the benefits of sobriety go far beyond avoiding adverse outcomes. They open doors to stronger relationships, self-respect, and the chance to be fully present in your own life. If you’re considering a change, know it’s possible and that the rewards are real. Choose progress over perfection, and celebrate every step forward.

I used to drink Imperial Stouts and bourbon now and then, but I’ve chosen to leave them behind—and I share these moments to celebrate how far I’ve come. There’s incredible strength in choosing sobriety, and it’s something to be proud of every day. Building a support network is key: spend time with friends who encourage healthy choices, and seek out activities that bring you joy. When you’re feeling down, reach out to someone you trust—connection is a powerful antidote to old habits. And always, always have a plan for getting home safely. Instead of focusing on what you’re giving up, celebrate what you’re gaining: new hobbies, community involvement, and a more profound sense of fulfillment. These commitments don’t just protect your health—they open up new, rewarding chapters in your life. If the journey feels overwhelming, remember that you’re not alone. Take that small, proactive step—call a friend, try something new, or seek support. Every effort counts, and your story can inspire others, too.

I want to share a quick story. At a work Christmas party a few years ago, I had two beers with dinner. As my wife and I were driving home around 10 p.m., we approached a DUI checkpoint. The sight of flashing red and blue lights ahead made my heart pound. Reacting to my anxiety, I made a poor decision and asked my wife to switch seats with me right before the checkpoint. We assumed we were in the clear after passing through, but soon sirens blared as police cars pulled us over. Surrounded by officers, they asked my wife if she'd been drinking, and she truthfully said no. They then turned to me and asked if I had been driving earlier. I admitted that I had driven after having two beers. An officer informed us that a car behind had reported the switch. In that moment, I had what I now call an 'Integrity Checkpoint', where the truth had to come out, consequences be damned. Thankfully, after a sobriety test, which I passed, they let us go with a stern warning. The lesson is clear: do not drink and drive, and always have a safe way to get home. Reflect on your choices and ask yourself: Who will you call before your next drink to ensure you have a secure way home?

Together in the struggle,

Brian

Stripped Down to Strength: Becoming a Marine

"hug your wrack mate" free AI image gemini.google.com

I was in the second phase of Marine Corps boot camp at Edson Range, where we learned to handle the M16A2 rifle with precision. Sundays were usually for writing letters home, polishing boots, and enjoying a short chapel service. But this Sunday stood out. It left me pondering: What does true strength mean, and how do I cultivate it through this particular situation? What does this moment have to do with becoming a Marine?

The California heat filled the squad bay, mixing with the smell of sweat and nervous anticipation. My rack mate and I sat together on our splintered footlockers, our backs sticking to the metal bed frames, while the scribe recruit closed the curtains for privacy. Silence settled in, heavy and unyielding, as if the air itself was holding its breath. I glanced at my rack mate, meeting his eyes just briefly before we both looked away, unsure of what to expect. A shuffle of feet, an awkward cough, and then the moment stretched a little longer. Then we heard the order: "Hug your rack mate."

We sat there, arms around each other, roughly thirty-five pairs of recruits forming a circle, all of us feeling awkward and unsure. The hug itself wasn’t what embarrassed me. It was being stripped of everything: no camouflage fatigues, no green t-shirt, no white underwear, no black boot socks, no comfort, and not even our pride. We were as exposed as we had ever been, both physically and emotionally.

In that hot, shaded squad bay, I held my equally embarrassed rack mate. We were both sweating, and the smell was intense; the odors of perspiration clung to our foreheads, chests, and bodies. For the first time, I wondered: What did I get myself into? Amidst the sensory barrage, a fragment of my childhood flashed before me—would that Gulf Coast Texas kid, dreaming of being a Rambo or the next Commando, the hero I saw in movies, make it out of here? Here I was, facing the grime but feeling a flicker of resolve inside me, a quiet reminder of the strength I had always sought. This raw, uncomfortable moment contrasted starkly with my youthful aspirations, but perhaps this was the challenge I needed for transformation.

This might not be the introduction you expected. I'm not offering a polished self-help book. Instead, you'll find a carefully curated collection of journal entries and notes I've gathered over the years. At first, I wanted to write a memoir for my children—a handbook from Dad. As the idea grew, I realized I could share my story with more people. No matter who reads this, my goal is the same: to share my journey as a U.S. Marine, father, husband, registered nurse, and follower of Jesus. If anyone questions my right to write, I rely on my training and experience. At its core, this memoir seeks to reach anyone striving for resilience and purpose, guiding you to find strength in your own life's challenges, just as I did in mine.

When I arrived in San Diego in July and stepped onto the yellow footprints as a recruit from Texas, the drill instructors met me right away. Amid the chaos and noise, one of their voices cut through like a blade: "Welcome to the United States Marine Corps recruit depot San Diego, get off the bus!" That single line felt like a thunderbolt, asserting their authority without question. I never doubted their credentials, education, or authority. Before the Marines, my father filled that role, with my mother close behind, then grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers, coaches, and family friends who kept me in line.

You might wonder about my credentials as a writer. Honestly, I have no formal qualifications, unless you count my military training and experience as a registered nurse. But let me ask you this: Have you ever doubted your own qualifications? That feeling of vulnerability and uncertainty is something we all face at different points in our lives. As you join me on this journey through my story, I invite you to reflect on your own experiences and consider how your unique journey has equipped you in ways you might not expect.

Let’s talk about drill instructors. Their authority came from who they were, what they stood for, and how they carried themselves. When I first met them, their lean bodies and sharp uniforms said it all. No one told us about their training, backgrounds, or what their ribbons meant. They led by example—through their actions, words, and steady presence. Their esprit de corps was strong and confident. They weren’t personal trainers, CEOs, motivational speakers, professors, pastors, Olympians, or life coaches. They were disciplined, battle-tested, and had finished tough training, including combat deployments and D.I. school. Their goal wasn’t just to turn boys into men, but to make us United States Marines. And they did.

I’m 51 years old and was born on 9/11. Over the years, I've faced my share of hurts, habits, and hang-ups—a phrase I learned from friends and mentors. Everyone has struggles, and I’ve spent a lot of time dealing with my own, including fighting for sobriety. Each of these struggles has served as a checkpoint in my journey, marking a point of challenge and growth. Sobriety became a milestone of resilience, parenting a lesson in patience and love, while faith offered a foundation for my values. Even with setbacks, I keep trying to set the example. I’m always learning and adapting, and I believe these checkpoints have given me insights worth sharing. While I first wrote this for my children, I realized it could speak to others, too, offering them a map of personal milestones to anticipate their own growth.

I’m writing this memoir to share my thoughts on what it takes to be strong—mentally, physically, and maybe even spiritually. As someone still learning, my words might come across as blunt, brash, or even boastful at times, and sometimes desperate or sad. Some parts are honest reflections on specific moments in my life, while others come from my time in the Marine Corps or working as a nurse. You’ll find conviction, vulnerability, motivation, and self-examination here. I wrote everything from the heart, just as I felt it.

To encapsulate this part of my journey, here's what I’ve learned: true strength is the steadfast resolve to face every challenge head-on, embracing the imperfections and lessons along the way. Think of it as your field order for life: adapt, overcome, and persist. Let's carry this mindset forward.

I am deeply grateful for the example the Marines set in my life, but I have found an even greater teacher: Jesus.

With humility and honesty, I share my many failed attempts to make life meaningful. I offer you these experiences—what has worked for me and what hasn’t—hoping they might help you too. My goal is to serve, not to seek honor, except the honor that belongs to God, who gave me the ability to write. I hope you’ll read with an open mind and find something useful.

You might wonder what the purpose was behind hugging my rack mate, completely exposed, for what felt like hours that day. That experience forced me to confront the reality that everything—even my dignity—could be stripped away. Only then could I truly begin to understand what it means to adapt and overcome. 

Together in the struggle,

Brian

Outgrown: How We Outgrow the Bullies Who Once Defined Us

"bullied to USMC" free AI image from www.gemini.google.com

The late Eugene H. Peterson, a professor and lecturer turned church pastor, authored a readable Bible version called The Message, and one of the many letters that the first-century apostle Paul wrote to the residents of Corinth, Peterson has translated into words for the typical reader. The biblical text informs us why Paul was discussing his thorn in his side, or it could have been a particular ailment. Scholars agree that it was some form of affliction we can all relate to, meant to keep Paul humble and prevent him from getting a big head or an overinflated sense of self-esteem because of his connection with God. If we are open, we all relate to the text that Peterson updated, that I have been given a disability in life, which reminds me of my personal limits and the necessity of God's grace in my life (Peterson, 2002, 2 Cor. 12:7). The point is that such times I believe situations, circumstances and what we experience from others like shrewd interactions, ruthless behavior, and tough challenges are part of shaping our character as we mature.

I am currently catching up on the series "Stranger Things". The Netflix show is set to release another season this Thanksgiving holiday, so we are revisiting the pre-pandemic episodes, and I've grown quite fond of it. The series resonates with those of us who grew up in the eighties; in fact, I recognize every song it references. The producers have creatively told the story of good versus evil through a Dungeons & Dragons lens, infused with an eighties twist. It's engaging and relatable.

Although I never played Dungeons & Dragons consistently, I did have a basic paper character profile with entry-level powers. I managed to earn some money mowing lawns in my neighborhood, which I used to buy some cool multi-sided, variously colored dice in the seventh or eighth grade. I role-played a few times with childhood friends who lived down the street, but I eventually lost interest and never picked it up again during junior high.

The series describes the lives of a few kids who live in a relatively safe town, but there is a mirror image of the city that is the underworld in the show, reminiscent of good and evil. As such, the goon squad of nerdy kids tries to figure out ways to battle the dark forces affecting their town, displaying true friendship, camaraderie, and a sense of community to ward off the evil spirits, which I believe anyone can identify with in the on-screen story. If you were born in the seventies and eighties, hints of The Goonies come through in the Netflix series.  

Netflix has captured the point of view of the nerdy kid facing bullying from popular peers, but showing that they can be holders of great resolve, character, and true grit. There is not a single person who will not be reminded of their personal battles and experiences in overcoming life's challenges from adolescence to adulthood. These themes are common across all cultures throughout human history. For instance, the Israelites cried out to God, feeling like grasshoppers compared to the surrounding tribes that threatened them (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Numbers 13:33). This illustrates that giants in our lives are a common experience. The stories in scripture highlight how we can overcome them with God's assistance.

Many people are familiar with the heroic story of David and Goliath. Goliath, the Philistine warrior, was more than two feet taller than Shaquille O'Neal, could carry over 100 pounds of armor, and had extensive combat experience. He faced David, a young and healthy farm boy, but was ultimately defeated by the strength of God (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, 1 Samuel 17). This story reminds us that we often encounter challenges that seem overwhelming. However, with the support of friends, our faith, and God's strength, we can overcome these obstacles, endure with resilience, and grow from them. 

References:

Peterson, E. H. (2002). The Message Bible. NavPress.

The Holy Bible: New International Version. (1999). Cornerstone Bible Publishers. (original work published 1973)

Stronger than Trials: With God's Help We Overcome

"blank canvas man" free AI image www.gemini.google.com

For generations, men of great heart and undaunted nerve have written literature, sung songs, and proclaimed here and there the feats, conquests, and adventures while overcoming their adversaries. Enemies and opponents who surrounded them, oppressed and afflicted them and their families, and drove them to the brink of despair, breaking their spirits in anticipation of a purge and wounding their morale in the hopes of being conquered and diminishing the will to strive in the ring of life. Still, time and time again those same courageous victors have proclaimed God was there help (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Psalm 118: 13). Has it ever occurred to you, during your quiet times of contemplation and meditation, that God drives away and defends our cause against those who stand against us, not because of some great integrity or uprightness of heart on our part, but because of the immeasurable darkness in others?

Consider this: isn't it easier to believe that when we do well, have good things, and experience small victories, it's because we've had a brief moment of proper living and charitable character as a result? In these times, we think highly of ourselves and fall in love with our performance. We take pride in our good deeds and believe we are blessed, serving as a good example for others, because divine light shines upon our path. However, the truth of the matter is that darkness can and does live in our hearts as well. We know this from Old Testament study, and like the Israelites, chosen as an instrument for God's purposes, they were not always on their best behavior. However, God still protected and took care of them, lest they think they were special and better than other nations, as he told them they were stubborn (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Deuteronomy 9:1-7). Having stated clearly what precedes, we must pay attention to the writing on the wall to avoid the risk of slipping off a steep slope and losing our footing, off into a great coma, becoming narcotized and intoxicated with self-praise—the cataracts of self-congratulation that blind our sight of God's help.

It is precisely then that a man must take caution and be on guard, for he might be divinely relieved of his duty when he believes that his walk is unimpeded or his sail has a fair, strong wind because of his effort. It is because of who God is that we do well. As Heschel (2001, p. 501) stated more eloquently, man is a blank canvas deep inside; the candle of his heart is barely lit, and the light is overcast because he lacks the capacity and has not been endowed with supernatural strength to rise above his limitations. It is not because of our excellent exploits or achievements. We remember the trials that paint our potholed past, as we ask ourselves, did I really get myself where I am today? Or did God have something to do with it?

References:

Heschel, A. J. (2001). The prophets. Perennial.

The Holy Bible: New International Version. (1999). Cornerstone Bible Publishers. (original work published 1973)

When is a horse not a gift?

"Trojan Horse" free AI image www.gemini.google.com

It is likely true that the stars shining the brightest in the pitch-black night are the ones that have consumed the most fuel. They possess the endurance to withstand extreme pressures and have survived the immense heat that allows them to be visible compared to other celestial bodies in the solar system. Leadership is a challenging endeavor, and those in such roles can draw strength from what astronomers understand about the universe. Leaders are akin to those burning balls of gas and heat; they emit a bright light amidst the darkness.

Consider the poetic lines from Faust composed by the great eighteenth-century German literary prodigy Johann Wolfgang von Goethe:

God. Although he serves me now confusedly,

I soon shall lead him forth where all is clear.

The gardener knows when verdant grows the tree

That bloom and fruit will deck the coming year.

Mephistopheles. What will you wager? Him you yet shall lose,

If you give me your permission

To lead him gently on the path I choose.

God. As long as on earth he shall survive,

So long you'll meet no prohibition.

Man errs as long as he doth survive.

Mephistopheles. My thanks for that, for with the dead I've never got

Myself entangled of my own volition.

I like full, fresh cheeks best of all the lot.

I'm not at home when corpses seek my house;

I feel about it as a cat does with a mouse.

God. It is well! So be it granted you today!

Divert this spirit from its primal source

And if you can lay hold on him, you may

Conduct him downward on your course,

And stand abashed when you are forced to say:

A good man, though his striving be obscure,

Remains aware that there is one right way. (Goethe, 1952, pp. 8-9)

 

The dialogue above parallels that of the poetic ancient Hebrew literature found in the Old Testament, specifically the story of Job and the challenge set upon Job by the duplicitous serpent who criticizes Job's devotion to God (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Job 1:7-12). The reality is, of course, that understanding the spiritual battle humans experience is a theological viewpoint that I hold as a follower of Jesus—the struggle between good and evil.

As such, as a leader, there is a real struggle or a tangible and perceptible adversary (Erickson, 2013, p. 417) to grapple with daily, who doubts our commitment as part of God's community as depicted in the interaction above from Goethe's epic poem. The dialogue between God and the character Mephistopheles concerns the main character of the story, Faust, the subject of Mephistopheles' criticism, God's servant. We are a lot like Faust in Goethe's grand literary classic; it is no wonder that it is considered unforgettable in the Britannica.

There is an adversary, a formidable enemy, and he is like the rikusentai, the Japanese Marines who crimsoned the sands red with the blood of the US Marines at Tarawa during World War II (Alexander et al., 1997). As a veteran Marine, not uneducated in military infantry training and accustomed to the ethos, philosophy, and traditions of the United States Marines, the importance of understanding conflict on foreign soil stands to reason. However, the true enemy of man, or the Mephistophelean adversary, goes by other names.

Recall other distinctions and character traits such as attractive enticer, incorrigible opponent, creator of lies, master of deception, who distorts and blurs the vision of those who do not yet believe (Erickson, 2013, p. 417). Suppose, as a military veteran and a professed Christian, it is believed that the spiritual battle is against flesh and blood? In that case, I am undone and defeated as I cannot expect to engage the tactics of the devil, such that as a former grunt in the service of our country, I will not be retrofitted with an M16, a bayonet, hand grenades, or a .50 caliber Browning machine gun atop a Hummer. However, at the very least, as a warrior disciple, I will need supernatural aid, and so, due to weak knees, I will need God's armor (Simpson & Bruce, 1957, p. 142). Sometimes our adversary attacks with a direct frontal assault. Still, often, he comes at us in disguise, appearing as an angel of light, or a gift, to deceive us with intelligent schemes of espionage.

The Trojans learned a valuable lesson when a gift of a horse was not an offering of peace or a surrender from the mighty Greeks. Recall Achilles, the mythological warrior of old, who Virgil tells us about alongside other Greek fighters in the story of how Troy fell. The Greeks overcame the inhabitants of Troy through deception. With the elusive acceptance of a sacrificial offering of maple and pine, in the shape of an idol, a wooden horse, secretly holding within its bowels men armed with shield and blade, overtook the city when the horse offered up by the Greeks was brought into the inner city (Virgil, 1952, pp. 124-127).

At times, we can clearly see our adversary, the devil, attacking us, while at other times, his assaults on our hearts and lives are more subtle. Regardless, as we learn from the wisdom of literary figures, he questions our commitment and challenges God, accusing us. But we take heart, the good news is that God is faithful. He believes in us, even championing us. When we struggle and sometimes face unclear paths, just as others in the great community of believers do, we have an advocate, Jesus.

References:

Alexander, J. H., Horan, D., & Stahl, N. (1997). A fellowship of valor: The battle history of the United States marines. HarperCollins.

Erickson, M. J. (2013). Christian theology (3rd ed.). Baker.

Goethe, J. W. (1952). Faust: Parts I & II. In R. M. Hutchins, The Great Books of the Western World (Vol. 47, pp. 1–249). Encyclopedia Britannica.

Simpson, E. K., & Bruce, F. F. (1957). Commentary on the epistles to the Ephesians and to the Colossians. William B. Eerdmans.

The Holy Bible: New International Version. (1999). Cornerstone Bible Publishers. (original work published 1973)

Virgil (1952). The Aeneid. In R. M. Hutchins, The Great Books of the Western World (Vol. 13, pp. 101-379). Encyclopedia Britannica.