Three Students

Dim lights and PowerPoint slides hid his mustache.

A carefully arranged handlebar mustache enlivened his presentation.  Cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) was relevant and Mr. Mustache brought CPR dummies for scenarios, but his whiskers communicated as much as his words.

His fitness communicated that he was ready to run down an embankment to rescue a motorist from a burning car.  Super Mario's audience absorbed the weight of his 20-year firefighting career.  More than awe, what the instructor wanted was his class to be ready when needed.

His teaching style persuaded listeners that choking babies, bleeding victims and grateful bystanders have witnessed his heroics.  His students split into groups, and practiced chest compressions.  A quick look around the room confirmed that Mustachio was surrounded by rescuers.

A rescuer's ponytail bobbed over her dummy to the beat of "Staying Alive".  Two members of her group waited for a turn.

"Stayin' Alive" is used to train people to provide the correct rate of chest compressions per minute while performing CPR.  The song has around 103 beats per minute, and 100–120 chest compressions per minute are recommended for CPR. (reference)

She was just as serious as the 20-year firefighting instructor.  A police officer, she was saving the dummy's life with a firearm and shield on her belt.  She knew the drill was correctly done when both of the dummy's green lights synchronized.  Concentration kept her quiet.  When the green lights aligned, she made room for the next person.

During a break, she said, "I did CPR on a 9-year old."

She hadn't said much but her confession seemed to light a fire.

"Kids are tough," said a firefighter in her group.  "I did CPR on 4 children in 6 months.  They all died," he continued.

"That's messed up," shrugged the pony-tailed cop.  "The 9-year old lived.  I'm happy about that," she joylessly whispered.  While Mustachio's cleanshaven colleague talked to the petite, ponytailed cop, the third member of their group listened.     

Mustachio ended the break and resumed his PowerPoint but the break qbroke one of his learners.

One of his learners - the third member - was grateful the room was darkened.  Third member looked at the dozens of rescuers, and wondered how many children the trainees had saved; how many died in their care.  Seven firefighters times ten children per year equals seventy children.  Two dozen officers times ten children per year equals two hundred and forty children.  

Most attendees had more than one year of service.

Lights make gape-mouthed, wide-eyed realizations awkward.  Awareness, dawning on a civilian, best unfolds in darkness: fewer eyes; less embarrassment.

If you train with first responders, and they start telling war stories, you come to a fork in the road.  You can either throw onto the pile with a story of your own or shut up and listen.  After the choking lecture, the cop, civilian and firefighter practiced saving infant dummies before taking a break.

"What ever happened to the 9-year old?" asked third-member-civilian.

"No idea...we go from emergency to emergency.  We rarely know how things turn out," said the pony-tailed police officer.

"Yup," said the firefighter.  "When you arrive, there is no information.  There's a limp child and a family screaming for help.  Drowning... electrocution... poison... choking...You have no idea and they're too juiced to tell you.  Just get the chest compressions going and airways open.  When the kids die, it humbles you.  Admitting it messes you up takes you down a notch," said the firefighter.

Training with cops and firefighters took the civilian down a notch.  He was there for a recertification: a few lectures; a few drills; done by lunch.  Had he used the skills since the last class?  Embedded with first responders, he realized how naïve he was.  

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. ~ Romans 12:3

Third guy was kneeling over a dummy with people who kneel over people.  Some people live and some die, but his training partners go home, shower and come back for more.  Firefighters and officers come back because they raised their hands and swore they would.  

They come back because they need the money; because they dislike everything else they've tried; because they want to help; because they're living their dreams; because they're still trying to figure out why they come back.  

They have their own 9-year old children running into their arms asking, "How was your day?!"  Talking to children about the children that live and die is one option.

Talking to a chaplain about the children who live and die is another option.  If a department offers chaplains, officer and firefighter can engage in talk therapy before they engage family and friends.  A Christ-centered confidant is a fit for some professionals and secular solutions are a fit for others. 

 CPR training took a turn toward vulnerability.

A cop spoke of the joy of lifesaving but forgot to smile.  A firefighter remembered his pain and shared openly.  Kneeling over a dummy, the third member of the group silently prayed for the remembering rescuers.  He prayed for Super Mario, his training team of firefighters and the officers they recertified.

A civilian joined the thousands of members of Adopt-A-Cop.org to lift rescuers to the Lord in prayer.

Maybe you want to pray for a rescuer, too. 

You can pray for Super Mario, Petite Ponytail or Cleanshaven Colleague.  The Lord knows their real names and keeps all the blessing in order.

Thank you for your prayer support and generosity to Christian outreach among first responders.

Together we're trusting Jesus to change lives.

Valley Of The Shadow

Bathrooms are a big deal.

A "No public bathroom" sign in the windows is code for "We're a business, not a charity. If you have to use the bathroom, buy something."  Once the money is spent, and the key requested however, right is right.

"Where is your bathroom?"

"We don't have a public bathroom."

"OK, no problem. As you can see, I filled up on pump 5 and am a paying customer."

"I know but we don't have a public bathroom."

"Does your bathroom work?"

"Yes."

'Yes' is such a simple word. When we ask questions and 'yes' follows, our satisfaction is usually assured. But if affirmation juxtaposes denial, the odd note squeezes, 'That's not how the song goes,' out of all of us. The dissonance of 'yes' and a locked door created a strange friction within me.

Friction lights matches. 

To prevent disaster, the very box used to coax the flame must be separated from the flame. Denial sparked anger. As the situation's match burned, distancing anger from the matchbox of the moment would have been wise.

I chose differently.

I chose to remember my potty trainers. Dr. and Mrs. Pickens were born in 1941, when Blacks were systematically refused perfectly functioning sinks, soap dispensers and toilets. If gas station points existed, my parents knew of no such. By the time I was born, they were using any bathroom they wanted, but their instructions were tinged by an urgency.

They potty trained like bathrooms were a big deal.

'Always leave things better than you found them,' was about common decency, but the axiom was also cautionary. When bathroom etiquette is taught by people intimately familiar with the odd note that American segregation produced, lessons drip with urgency. I remember my mother teaching me how to quietly urinate on the margin of the bowl rather than loudly into the water. Did she teach how to make impromptu seat covers because no mechanically dispensed covers were available during her segregated childhood? Wiping any filth on and under the seat, was important to her. When finished, a gentleman puts the seat down. Washing hands was a no brainer but did everyone teach their children to pay careful attention to paper towel over terrycloth? Paper was for use, but linen for aesthetic. Burn a match after bowel movements to eliminate odors.   

Think match sticks.

If history is a dusty case of dynamite, and suspicion is the match, dissonance can light history's fuse.  

The attendant's repeated apologies, and my unwillingness to leave, heightened tension. I planted my size 14 shoes and flatly stared at the petite attendant. She bit her lip before saying, "Someone overdosed in the bathroom. We are not allowed to let people inside."

Her refusals had nothing to do with me. Rather, intravenous drug use had rendered a small town between Pittsburgh and Washington DC inhospitable; same with the bowling alley and the other two gas stations in town.  

"I found someone a few weeks ago and had to call 911. My co-worker had to give CPR. The last person we found was taken away by EMS but we don't know if he lived."

My rage was redirected to recognition of her peril.   

"How are you coping?"

"Thank you for asking. You do what you have to do. I have bills and need this job. Please sir, that's the only reason we refuse the bathroom. I didn't want you thinking it was something else."

"No worries," was my terse response. I had jumped to conclusions, still needed a bathroom, but was now filled with compassion. She saw my need, offered a bathroom referral and forgave what remained unspoken between us.

With relief came revelation.

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. ~ Romans 5:8

Sin is missing the mark and I missed the mark in a Speedway gas station. Nevertheless, Christ died for me, has forgiven me of my thoughts and returned me to a ministry among the people who are called when overdoses are discovered in gas station bathrooms.  

Police officers are called by post traumatically stressed gas station attendants. If anyone needs visible reminders of God's plan in a fallen world, first responders do. Miles away from the jurisdictions in which the chaplaincy has influence, the Holy Spirit presented an opportunity for a chaplain to (again) confess and repent.

I was traveling to raise additional prayer and financial support among East Coast classmates.

The Lord drew me into a stranger's pain. Shortfalls and misunderstandings are hazards of living and in a Pennsylvania valley I got things all wrong. The name of her town is less important than the name of our Redeemer.

Jesus has a plan.

Despite our country's history, amidst an opioid epidemic and alongside short-staffed rescuers, the Lord is moving. Sometimes seeing what God is up to is difficult. The matches we hold are moments of decision. The way the Holy Spirit reduced my paranoia is the same way the Lord moves in everyday circumstances.

Will you fast and pray for a town Christ loves, longs to reach and sent me through as a testimony?  

Bathrooms are a big deal.

An Officer's Testimony

Matthew’s Baptism Speech

Hello, 

I’d like to start off by evoking the Gospel. Ephesians 6:19 - Pray for me. Ask God that when I speak the right words may be given to me. Then I will boldly make know the secret of the gospel. 

What is a Christian? Can a Christian be defined distinctly? If so, why are there so many groups within Christianity? They believe in God? If there is a God, how does he allow good people to die tragically? These are all questions and thoughts that a non believer may think quietly, or as we have seen in recent times, yell loudly and disparagingly. 

For those who don’t know me, my name is Matthew. I grew up in a culturally Catholic household. I was baptized as a baby in the Catholic Church. I went through first communion as a young boy. But, soon after this, I stopped going to church. God became an option, a tertiary concept that was good, but not at the forefront of my thinking. When I wanted something, I prayed to God. As Jelly Roll has sung, I only talk to God when I need a favor.

As a young man, motivated by my own shortcomings and anger about who I was, I made decisions that had taken me off the straight and narrow path. The path I made, led not to righteousness and fulfillment in The Lords favor, but instead to unhappiness and never being satisfied. Motivated by my own abilities I saw life as MY way or the highway. 

God fell out of favor in my life, but I never fell out of favor with him.

It was during the rise of the peak of my own ambitions that God sent me Ashley. At the time I didn’t appreciate what God had done for me. I wasn’t appreciative of my wife and this led to bigger issues. It got to the point where I hit rock bottom. 

I took a hard look at myself. I started to make changes, but continued to rely on secular advice, books and incorrect thinking. 

I had yearly goals and getting back into faith happened to be one of them. This was in my own attempts to put myself back together.

During this time, I discovered Gods word. 

God still hadn’t given up on me. 

I started on a journey of discovering truth. I went to different churches around my home to discover where truth was being spoken. 

I eventually found this First Baptist Church. I felt welcomed here by our small community who are aged in years. While this is true, it is also true that there is a pervasive, yet quiet faith here that is strong. The congregations love for newcomers abounding. This is the reason I love this church.

While I may not be perfect and I still sin, I am now ready to turn to God. In turning to God I turn to scripture.

It is written in Proverbs 18:22 that “He who finds a wife finds a good thing.” Ashley, I am thankful that God has brought you to me. I love you and our babies. 

It is also written in John 3:16 that “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” 

Today on 3/16/2025 I am ready to live a life full of faith in Christ. I am ready to be a humble, loving and obedient servant. 

I pray for God to continue to show his mercy. I ask Christ to extend his grace to anyone weary, tired and worn out from their own ambitions as he invites us to do in Matthew 11:28-30. I have asked, I have sought and I have knocked. Now I am ready to go through the open door to the Lord. I pray through my faith in Christ that God continue to extend his blessings to me. 

Amen