“We don’t honor our military like America does,” Pastor Andres told me. Because of my background, his church in Bogota, Colombia, reached out to the Military Hospital in the city. He invited wounded soldiers to come for a service and a meal. We were surprised when over 70 soldiers showed up. Some were walking wounded; most were using crutches or in wheelchairs.

These soldiers had been wounded in the nation’s ongoing battles with drug cartels and FARC guerillas. I shared my testimony of my time in Vietnam, being critically wounded and God sparing my life. I shared my struggles with alcohol, nightmares, guilt, hate — all the emotions many veterans secretly carry. I told of God changing my heart and leading me to forgive my enemy and actually becoming friends.

When I gave the invitation to receive Christ as their Savior, every soldier came to the front of the church. I thought they might have misunderstood me, so I said if they wanted to receive Christ as their Savior to remain at the front. No one moved. The pastor and I looked at each other; both of us had tears running down our faces as every soldier prayed to surrender their lives to Jesus Christ.

They were taken to the fellowship hall and served a huge meal. They were also given gifts and personal hygiene items. With my “spiritual granddaughters” translating, I began talking to some of the soldiers to hear their stories. A young man approached me and, in broken English, told me I “really” needed to talk to a particular soldier in a wheelchair.

We went over and asked the young man his story. Juan Carlos was drafted into the Colombian Army after he finished his schooling. As he was not going into higher education, the Army inducted him at 16 years of age. He served for the next three years, fighting both the communist guerillas and drug cartel gunmen.

During a patrol in the jungle, he was walking point when he stepped on a mine. The explosion lifted him off the ground, and when he landed, he said he found himself standing at the Gates of Heaven. Jesus was standing there before him. He said he asked Jesus if he was coming to Heaven. Jesus said, “No. You’re not ready!” Then he found himself lying on the ground as medics worked to save his life.

Carlos lost both legs just above the knees, part of his left arm, and his left eye. He was not expected to survive. He gripped my arm and told me he believed Jesus spared his life so he could be in this church today; so he could be saved and now spend eternity with Christ in Heaven. Now, all three of us — Veronica, Ana, and I — were crying. It was amazing how hungry for hope these men were.

I’ve found that to be true in many countries where I’ve had the privilege to share my story. Those who have so little were very open to the Gospel. In America, we have so much. For all the whining, those who expect the government to provide for them still live better than 80% of the world. I’ve pondered that reality since Joe Biden became president. Despite everything the Trump administration had done — lower minority unemployment, rising wages, and lower interest rates — we gave God even less. The Lord asks for 10%, and we give on average less than 3%. Maybe the economy tanked to wake us up and realize how blessed we are.

My prayer for my country has been for the next great move of God to sweep the nation and that we would develop an attitude of gratitude. Lord, help us to be grateful for all we have.

Something to pray about!
Semper Fidelis