When we lived briefly in Tennessee a few years ago, Howard became acquainted with a friendly neighbor. The man had been in the military in Afghanistan, and he often talked to my husband about his experiences there. One day Howard came in and said the man was troubled, because in the line of duty he had had to kill.
"I feel sorry for him," Howard said one evening. "He says those things haunt him and he wonders if he will be held accountable someday. I wish there was some scripture I could give him that would ease his mind."
A scripture occurred to me that I thought might be applicable. I had been reading in II Kings about Naaman's having been healed of leprosy after he obeyed the prophet Elisha's advice to dip seven times in the river Jordan. Naaman then recognized that there was no god except the God of Israel and was so grateful to Elisha he wanted to give him a gift, which Elisha would not accept.
In light of this, Naaman then asked for a load of earth, (presumably to build an altar to the true God)"...for thy servant will henceforth offer neither burnt offering nor sacrifice unto other gods, but unto the Lord," II Kings 5:17.
In 5:18, Naaman expresses his predicament as a new believer: "In this thing the Lord pardon thy servant, that when my master goeth into the house of Rimmon to worship there, and he leaneth on my hand, and I bow down myself in the house of Rimmon, the Lord pardon thy servant in this thing."
Elisha's answer to him was, "Go in peace." Evidently meaning he was not responsible for being required to do this. Howard said when he gave his friend these scriptures, they seemed to relieve and comfort him.
A couple of times this week, I had to remember to "Go in peace." We were waiting to check out at a long line in the grocery store, when a register opened up in another aisle. Howard was in a handicapped cart, and as I struggled to get him in the new line, the woman in front of us doggedly wedged her cart past our cart and went before us. "Did you see that what she did?" I asked Howard. He didn't comment, but I'm sure she heard me, and grimly and determinedly unloaded her cart.
On the way home, Howard was hungry, so we went through McDonald's drive-thru for his favorite fish sandwich and a strawberry shake. (We would worry about supper later, but he needed those calories!) Alas, his sandwich was not warm, so he asked if it could be reheated. The window opened and the attendant said they would make him a new one.
We pulled forward to the waiting area, and that is just what we did: waited and waited. Finally a girl came out and handed us two Happy Meals! I pointed to a SUV across the drive where she then delivered them. I finally went in to get our order just as they had it ready. I couldn't help telling them that their service wasn't the best! But we went in peace!
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