For a variety of reasons, I never served in the military. But I have lots of family and extended family who have. Also, an interest in history makes a familiarity with the war-and-peace cycle all but inevitable. Some of my favorite movies and books relate to warfare and the intelligence apparatus that covertly supports overt aggression or defense.
My brother-in-law served in the U.S. Army for over 20 years, retiring just before 9/11. He was an aviator operating helicopters and later transitioning to fixed-wing aircraft, where he flew Cessna business jets (unarmed) for senior officers.
Given the locus of military brain power in the U.S., he regularly flew in and out of the Washington, D.C., area and was a routine visitor to dark, lofty places known by three-letter abbreviations. A security clearance is required for most of them, but this being America, they all have visitor centers.
After one business trip he brought me a coffee mug sporting the colorful seal of the Central Intelligence Agency, that highly secret logo immediately recognizable from 80% of the spy movies ever made. He told me he got the mug from one of his Army buddies. I believed him.
The CIA cup made a noteworthy addition to our collection of ceramic mugs from various tourist destinations. For years, my wife and I made a practice of documenting our vacation excursions with coffee mugs; we lined the top of the kitchen cabinets with them until we ran out of space.
Then we built a wall-mounted coffee cup rack on the only vacant wall space remaining in the kitchen, then perched a few on top of the microwave, then filled the last empty cupboard. Several are scattered throughout the house, holding pens and pencils, toothbrushes, combs, business cards, unused pocketknives, eyeglass cleaner, and other items one can never find when needed.
The kitchen display is impressive, as is the collection of dust and detritus that collects in each, making it important to wash each cup thoroughly before use.
Eventually it dawned on us that we should quit bringing them home, but the CIA sample is a sure attention-getter. I asked for a second one that I could take to my office. In time, it showed up and I began to show it off at work.
One day, my boss, a clever fellow with an eye for detail, took note of the mug.
“What you got, there?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said, diffidently. “Just a small token from some friends.”
He picked up on my tone and played along, his secretary and another manager looking on. “So, an expression of appreciation, perhaps?”
I gave the small audience my full attention and assumed a self-deprecating air. “I don’t do much for them,” I said. “Just a few things here and there. It doesn’t even amount to part-time work. Mostly offering bits of advice they really don’t need.”
He nodded encouragement, and I kept going.
“The work is sporadic; they never call on me for anything of real importance. I just try to contribute where I can on some simple, low-priority projects.” I shrugged, playing the part to the limit. “I’m not really engaged with them, just trying to give a little help, here and there, from time to time.”
Which is exactly what the spy novels tell me a spy should say when his work is critical to saving the world.
The boss nodded with raised eyebrows and showed a face that said he was impressed. Innocently, he said, “So, sort of like you do for us, then, right?”
The small crowd laughed out loud. I kept a straight face with the same deferential half-smile. “We all have our strengths,” I said. “I just try to help where I can.”
With that, I refilled my precious coffee mug and returned to my cubicle, realizing I had met my match in the ability to deliver a one-liner.
Theological Contemplations
Symbols say something about us, announcing to the world who we are and what values we hold. An American flag lapel pin is de rigueur for a U.S. politician; then-Senator Barack Obama drew widespread criticism when he appeared on the presidential campaign trail in 2007 without one.
When not impressing friends and associates, I resist displaying symbols. A Jesus bumper sticker will not play well when I manage to cut someone off in traffic. A National Rifle Association symbol on my pickup truck narrows me to a political category and limits interaction with those who observe it.
There is, however, an unmistakable sign of vibrant Christian faith, which the Apostle Paul highlights in 2 Corinthians 2:14-17. But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are an aroma that brings death; to the other, an aroma that brings life. And who is equal to such a task? Unlike so many, we do not peddle the word of God for profit. On the contrary, in Christ we speak before God with sincerity, as those sent from God.
Our mere presence, he says, brings either the attractive perfume of spiritual life or the repulsive odor of spiritual death. This goes a long way toward explaining the polarization of society around the Gospel. As Christians, Paul asserts, we do not choose to exude this certainty of judgment; it is apparent whether we intend it or not. It cannot be concealed.
I do not really know how this works, but there is the sometimes-heard comment, “There is something different about you,” and the usually unspoken follow up, “I want what you have.”
As ambassadors for Christ (2 Corinthians 5:20), we are in the spotlight whether we choose it or not. Our task is to be worthy of that high calling.
If only it were as simple as displaying the right coffee mug.
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Have a good week!
Curt
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