My Army Buddy’s Witness Led Me to Christ

Two audible dings immediately rang out as my cell phone turned on.

“Heard you guys lost a bird in Afghanistan. Who was it?”

“Hey bro, heard one of your boot lieutenants was in a crash in country. I hope it wasn’t Ryan.”

I had just landed from a military training flight. I now stared at my phone in disbelief. Two minutes later, my phone rang. It was Ryan’s mom.

I knew what that meant. Officers must be at her front door, informing her of his death. Her voice was eerily calm as she confirmed it.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I stuttered before hanging up.

Several days later, I stood with his family as his flag-draped coffin was carried through the pouring rain. It felt like heaven cried with us that night.

Preparatory Grace

Ryan was my best friend and, at that point, the only Christian in my inner circle. I grew up in a Bible church and had prayed to accept Jesus no less than a hundred times. But in my youthful arrogance, I found the entire church experience stifling and joyless.

College provided me with the opportunity to see what the world had to offer. I had “Jesus in my heart,” so there was no need for the church anymore. The results were predictably disastrous, but no one in my life loved me enough to call me to repent.

Six years later, in a military helicopter training squadron in California, I met Ryan. Later, we’d be in the same fleet squadron on the East Coast. He was all-around better than me. He finished his MBA at 24 years old and then joined the military, just like his grandfather. He played Division 1 college baseball. More importantly, he openly talked about his faith in Jesus.

The two of us immediately shared a connection that almost felt supernatural. I now understood the once-awkward idea of David’s and Jonathan’s souls being knit together in a way that was stronger than a “woman’s love.” This was the masculine, brotherly spiritual intimacy that I never knew I’d always wanted.

As we settled into our military unit in North Carolina, Ryan again invited me to church with him. The church was large and modern. It had drums, and the sermons felt like TED Talks. Everything seemed bizarre to me. But I went, and the small serving of Jesus offered in sermons began to work on me. Ryan asked me what I thought of the messages. He knew my story, and he knew that even though I professed to be a Christian, I wasn’t walking with the Lord.

A few months later, we got word that one of us would be going to Afghanistan as a replacement pilot. We were heartbroken that we wouldn’t deploy together, and we privately spoke of our shared naive desire to get to “the show.”

Finally, we got word that Ryan would be the replacement pilot. The excitement of my possible deployment to Afghanistan was now replaced with a fear for my best friend.

Ten days later, we hugged goodbye in the shadow of the early morning darkness under the lights of a Waffle House parking lot. Five weeks later, debris from his helicopter littered the sand at a forward operating base in Afghanistan. Ryan was dead.

Irresistible Grace

The days leading up to Ryan’s burial were the darkest of my life thus far. The moments with his family were so personal that I’ve only spoken of them to the Lord. I had never seen what a helicopter crash does to a human body. I had never witnessed people so stricken with grief. I had no category at that point for God’s sovereignty. I wish I had.

It was another full year before God humbled me enough to walk back into that same megachurch after my own deployment. I knew I needed help from men who knew Jesus. God graciously led me to a men’s Bible study, where I was encouraged to read through the Gospels slowly and pray for God to reveal himself to me.

That season was like water bursting forth from a dam into my soul. I saw the glory of Christ where I’d previously seen stale Bible stories. I saw my sin as more horrific than any movie monster the human mind could conceive. I was utterly bankrupt before a holy God, and I knew it.

And then I experienced the warmth of grace in a way I’d never known. The love of God poured into my soul in a way that changed me. Entrenched patterns of sin were permanently broken. Desire for God’s Word, his people, and his mission replaced former desires of the flesh.

Sin wasn’t yet eradicated, but I was irreversibly changed, and everyone around me knew it. Salvation was no longer about merely getting out of hell. Now, it was about getting God.

Reflections on Grace

Nearly two decades removed from my friendship with Ryan, I’m amazed at God’s providence and grace in my life. I’ve been reflecting on three points lately.

• Your imperfect Christian life can have an amazing influence on others for the kingdom of God. Ryan’s doctrine wasn’t fully mature or precise, but God didn’t require that for his Holy Spirit to move into my life. My friend’s influence on me continues to echo through my life and into the lives of my children because of his bold and imperfect gospel witness.
• Love opens doors. I loved Ryan, and he loved me. I recognize now that I was receptive to his pleadings to reengage with my faith only because I knew he loved me. Apart from God’s love shown to me tangibly through my friend, I wouldn’t be a Christian today.
• Men, you were made for masculine intimacy. I never knew how deeply my soul desired to have a spiritual brother I could confide in. But if I’d considered Scripture, I wouldn’t have been surprised. My relationship with Ryan was merely a shadow of the greater relationship with Jesus that I was made for. By the grace of God, Ryan pointed my soul to the greatest intimacy found only in God.

Epilogue of Grace

Ryan loved me enough to pursue my soul, but God alone saved me.

Whom has God placed in your life who doesn’t know Jesus or isn’t walking in step with him as part of a church? Don’t underestimate the influence you can have on others for Christ. God has always worked through imperfect people and gospel presentations for his glory. I’m a Christian solely because that’s how he works.

Men, who really knows you in your church? Your soul was made for godly masculine intimacy with other Christian men, and with Christ. Take time to pursue it. Heaven and hell really are hanging in the balance.

One day, I’ll see my brother Ryan again. And after Jesus, he’s the next person I can’t wait to hug.