I was in the service, away at Boot Camp, and I'd discovered that the only place I could gain some reprieve from the grindstone was at church on Sunday mornings. Much like the rest of the troop who figured it out, I squeezed into the pews, one bald head in fatigues among a throng of bald heads in fatigues. The chaplain sermonized over the importance of perseverance, and at the end of the service, slapped a Bible in each of our hands. I took to reading that Bible every night after lights out—the first time I ever opened one intentionally in my life.
Tempted and Able
The first thing Lauren told me after I was baptized, besides, “I'm proud of you,” and, “I love you,” was, “Be prepared.” I thought that odd, considering. At that time in my walk with Christ, I was no stranger to naïveté and had reassured myself in the quiet place that baptism would scare away all my demons, that I would be made whole by the water grave, never to fall from grace again. On the contrary, my bride's words bore much truth. I had not prepared myself in the least. I did not understand the battle that was being waged over my flesh.

