When the World no longer makes sense
After coming home from multiple deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan, there is something that many can’t fully understand. For me, it wasn’t the transition to “normal” family life that was the hardest part. It wasn’t sitting at the dinner table or watching my kids play. Although it was hard realizing that my kids were growing up without me and seeing them at a later age than they were when I left. The struggle came from what I left behind.
I missed it. I missed the smells of the desert, the sound of boots hitting the ground, and even the chaos of combat. I missed the purpose that those deployments gave me, the feeling that every moment mattered. This was what I was trained for. This was what I lived for. There’s a strange peace in the middle of a war zone (which is such a weird thing to say). Where you live every day knowing it could be your last, and yet, you find strength amongst the chaos in the brotherhood, in the mission, and in the fight for something greater than yourself.
Combat veterans are the only ones that can truly grasp what that feels like. There’s a bond forged in the fire of battle that nothing else can replicate. We fought not just for the flag, but for the person standing to our left and right. We fought to make sure everyone came home.
But then you do come home, and the world feels... wrong. The pace of life feels slower, the stakes less urgent. The sense of purpose you lived with daily disappears, leaving a void that’s hard to explain. How do you reconcile the weight of what you experienced with the ordinary rhythm of everyday life?
It’s in this place of confusion and longing that I find myself turning to God. His Word becomes my anchor in the storm of my thoughts. One verse, in particular, keeps pulling me back:
“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” —Psalm 34:18
That crushed spirit was me. I realized I couldn’t carry the weight of my experiences alone. The burden of missing a life that was so dangerous yet so meaningful was too heavy for me to bear without help.
It was through scripture and prayer that I began to see my purpose didn’t end when the deployments did. The same God who protected me in combat (whom I knew of but did not know, hint hint, I do now) had a plan for me here at home. I might not be on the battlefield anymore, but there are still battles to fight—battles for my family, for my faith, and for my brothers and sisters who are struggling just like I was. This is the reason why I started “The Warfighters Mission”
Paul’s words in Philippians also brings me comfort:
“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” —Philippians 3:14
Pressing on doesn’t mean forgetting where you’ve been. It means trusting that God can use every piece of your journey for His glory. Even the moments that don’t make sense, the ones that leave you questioning your purpose—they have a place in His plan.
To my fellow combat veterans, especially the ones who are suffering through their PTSD, I want you to know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to miss it, to feel the ache for what you left behind. But don’t let that ache consume you. Turn to the only One who sees your pain and understands it better than anyone else. He is the God who gives purpose to every season of life, whether you’re in a combat zone or sitting in a quiet room at home.
When the world no longer makes sense, hold on to the One who never changes. In Him, we find the peace we long for, the purpose we crave, and the hope that carries us forward.
