There is an
unusual verse of scripture in the New Testament Book of Romans:
“O, wretched man that I am. Who will deliver me from the
body of this death?” (Romans 7:24)
But grant me permission to return to
this verse, and its little-known meaning a little later.
A reservist friend of mine served in
the Regular Army during the Vietnam War. He was and is a wonderful man. He
emulates his own motto in every respect; “Know your stuff, (well that’s not exactly the word he used). Take care of
your people. Be a Man.”
Staff Sergeant ‘Cliff Landon’ served
in a very singular and generally unpleasant position. He was assigned as an
intake supervisor with the Army Casualties Team. Cliff performed the initial processing
which expedited shipment of our deceased soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines
back to the United States.
He routinely unzipped body bag after body
bag, orange deodorant spray in one hand, and a wooden baton in the other hand.
Oft times, military casualties lay on
the field of their labor for days at a time. And “vermin” (to characterize it
politely) would often hitch a ride in the body bags, having been scooped up
with the deceased military man; (thus the need for the club).
As the months rolled by, one day was
very much like another, and Sergeant Cliff became almost immune to the sights
and smells of his gruesome profession. And so, it was until that one particular
day…
Pt. 2
The hardened soldier bent to unzip
another bag; among the dozens which covered the hanger floor. It was then he
noticed a slight movement, and he raised the club above his head. Zip went the
bag, and at that instant something happened which never occurred in all his
months in this gruesome vocation.
“Whew. It’s hot in here!”
Well, my dear readers, I assure you Sergeant
Morton almost “lost it.”
“We have a live one. We have a live
one!!!” my friend screamed. From somewhere in the distance medics came running,
and the “living corpse” was rushed to a nearby operating theatre.
And rather than keep you in suspense,
I can tell you that young soldier was spared, and is alive and well today.
Granted, he came away from the experience with only one arm, and one leg, but
he will tell you how fortunate he is to still be among “the land of the living.”
A footnote to this story.
Sergeant Landon was, ultimately,
released from active duty, and immediately registered at a local community
college. It was the first day of the semester, and he reported to a Room 203,
and sat down. First course. First semester. First year.
Suddenly, Cliff heard someone wheel in
behind him, and turned to look.
To his amazement he recognized a very
familiar face, and the body below it. A man with one arm and one leg. The
smiling fellow managed to wheel himself up to our hero, and the reunion was
nothing short of Outstanding.
Pt. 3
Interestingly
enough, (at least to me) the earlier passage of scripture is eerily similar to
the predicament of the poor soldier in the body bag.
Let me
refresh it for you.
“O, wretched man that I am. Who will deliver me from the
body of this death?”
I love the
hidden implications of various passages of scripture; verses which we are prone
to “run right by,” but which spoke volumes to believers of the first century
church.
Allow me to
characterize the meaning of this scripture.
During the
time of Christ, the Roman government used a primary form of execution.
Crucifixion. However, this wasn’t the only method by which a condemned criminal
was put to death. (And after I summarize this secondary method, I think any one
of us would have begged to be hung on a cross).
For you see,
the foregoing scripture refers to is this particular method of ancient
execution.
It seems
that under this gruesome regimen, …a dead body was tied securely to a condemned
prisoner. And under penalty of death, no man was permitted to remove it from
him. And thus, this condemned criminal was forced to eat, drink and sleep with
that awful burden on his back. And, (as you might easily imagine) as that
terrible organic weight on his back putrefied, the prisoner grew progressively
sicker, and, ultimately, died.
“Who, indeed,
shall deliver me?”
Obviously,
the Apostle Paul is using a powerful illusion of an actual practice here.
In the same
way that any man would be required to pay the ultimate penalty for the
slightest attempt to release the condemned criminal, this (and the following
verse of scripture) serve as a witness that you and I were condemned to die a
spiritual death, and suffer the eternal penalty, when Christ Jesus volunteered
to wrest that dead body of sin from our back, and set us free; but as a result
was forced to lay down His life in exchange for our own.
Pt. 4
I can tell
you, I am struck with the similarities between the two stories, one ancient,
and one current; which I have related here.
I have often shared the story of
Sergeant Cliff and the unfortunate soldier in the body bag. This tale has had
an impact on countless people over the years. Of course, it’s not enough to
merely tell the story. It is imperative that my readers understand the
spiritual interpretation I have assigned to the story.
Our poor “corpse” was shut off in that
dark, airless bag. How long he lay there is still a mystery. Somehow, this singular
soul existed in a coma-like state; devoid of human contact.
But suddenly, he found himself
resurrected; not unlike Lazarus of old! And can there be any doubt that the
good sergeant represents the figurative Christ figure who unzips the dark enclosure
which confines the poor man, and cries out,
“Come out of the bag!”
I deal with the dregs of humanity,
those who suffer from addictions to alcohol and substances, clients who exhibit
various psychological maladies, as well as ‘normal folks’ who struggle with
unforgiveness, hurtful memories, and failed relationships; those who are figuratively
closed up in a body bag, enveloped by darkness, deprived of human affection,
and deprived of oxygen.
Come out now! Don’t hesitate another
moment. You don’t belong there. There are those among us who will help you find
your way out of the bag! But you must cooperate. You must be willing. Only decay
and airlessness reside therein. Rise out of that awful place. Come out of the
bag!
By William McDonald, PhD. From (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 77. Copyright pending
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