Simple Test for Determining if a Government Policy is Christian or Not

American politics and policies are undergoing dramatic changes. There is righteousness and fury on both sides. There are also Christians on both sides. It can be hard to figure out whether a policy follows the way of Jesus.

While most laws and federal policies are complex and operate on multiple levels, the basic premises are critical. If that premise of the government policy is anti-Christian, then it is unlikely that the details will override that basic premise.

Jesus laid out a simple test for individual actions in the parable of "the Sheep and the Goats" from Matthew 25:31-46. That test can easily be applied to whether a person should support an action of the government or political leader.

The parable is below in italics. The test is in bold. The text is from the New International Version, but the general meaning is consistent through every Biblical translation I've seen.

31 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33 He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

34 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

46 “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

While not every government policy can be held up to this test, many of them can. A policy is not Christian if it does not :

• provide for people's basic needs to sustain life
• welcome strangers
• clothe the poor
• care for the sick
• care for those imprisoned

You may be attached to a policy or policies that either doesn't support these tenets or actual runs contrary to them. They could appeal to your basic political ideology, your sense of security, or economic aspirations; but it's clear that policies that do not support these tenets run contrary to the teaching of Jesus.

You're going to have to choose which path to follow.



p.s. I delved into this topic in much more depth in a post from 2013, "The Bibles's Blueprint for Decisions in a Democracy."That post tracks a similar line of thinking in Psalm 72.

When to Stop Pushing: Life Lesson from a Macebell

NOTE: The Macebell can be very dangerous without proper instruction. Do not attempt it without guidance from a fitness professional that can assure you're doing it safely.


In February of 2008, I received a Macebell for Valentine's Day. I try not to care to much about material things, but workout gear and sporting goods are my weakness. I'd been doing kettlebell-style workouts for about five years and the Macebell, a steel pipe with a massive weighted ball on the end, seemed like the obvious next step.

UPS dropped the Macebell off at the law firm. I carried it home through downtown Helena that night with a huge grin on my face, not bothered by the fact that I looked like Captain Caveman in a sports jacket. (A side benefit of living in the town that you grew up in is that no matter what you're doing, people have almost always seen you do something more ridiculous.)

[In case you haven't seen a Macebell, here's a video of professional wrestling legend Karl Gotch doing Macebell 360's.]

I went in the back yard that night and attacked my workout with the fervor of a lab rat running from an electric shock. I swung the Macebell up, down, and around. I spun it over my head and smashed it into the snow-covered ground. Sweat dripped and my muscles burned. There was only one problem: I couldn't do the signature Macebell exercise, the 360.

In the 360, the exerciser starts with the weighted ball vertical over their head, then swings it behind their back in a pendulum motion, and finishes by raising it back to vertical. I tried it over and over again. Cranking the weight down behind me and then heaving it back up again, but I couldn't get it to rise above my shoulders.

I dove back into Youtube research. I might have been a little overambitious in the size of Macebell I chose, but it was clear that I should have enough strength to complete the 360. There were some beasts slinging Macebells around on Youtube, but they weren't all beasts. The weirdest part was that the other exercisers didn't appear to be struggling at the part where I kept hitting the wall. The helpful realization that I should be able to do the 360 didn't translate into my workouts.

It wasn't for lack of trying. Each week, I completed a full-session of intervals with Macebell lifts combined with jumping rope.  I attempted the 360 after my warm-up while I was still fresh. I'd crank the weight downward behind my back and then heave it back up, but it would stop just before clearing the height of my shoulder. Then I would try it again, and again, and again...

A year passed. I switched jobs, built a house, became a father, published a book, but still couldn't complete a 360.It was becoming my nemesis.

One afternoon, I made another 360 attempt at the end of my workout. I was exhausted, but obsessed. I lifted the weighted bar high over my head and began to swing it behind my back. This time I was too tired to push the weight downward. I just let it flow under its own power and trajectory. The Macebell swung past the point where it usually stopped.The pull over gravity loading it up automatically for the final movement.

I was so surprised that I wasn't ready to make the final heave over my shoulder, but the next time I did. I completed it in one direction and then back the other way. Repetition after repetition. Over and over.

I never had another problem with that exercise. The simple, but essential trick was realizing that I had to let the weight work for itself. My efforts to increase momentum through the downward movement were only slowing the weight. I had to control it, but not force it. It was counter instinctive, but obviously true. No wonder the other exercisers weren't straining at that point, they were letting the Macebell rotate through the lift.

I learn the same lesson in life over and over again. When I am stuck with an impassable problem, it's often because it's not my turn to shoulder the burden. It's time to leave it to God, the goodness in other people, or to time to resolve. No amount of force, effort, or worrying on my part will make it any better. In fact, it often makes the situation worse.

Thomas Merton, the acclaimed Catholic mystic and author, spoke to this challenge. "It takes some doing, but if I do not insist on having everything exactly my own way, Our Lord will do most of the work. My biggest obstacle is my own tendency to decide beforehand how I want to serve Our Lord, instead of letting Him tell me what He wants."

Realizing the proper time to let go requires a careful balance of toil, observation, and prayer. It's a lot more difficult than swinging a Macebell. We'll never get our efforts aligned exactly right with the Divine will; but it's an essential part of our spiritual journey.



Note: Here's another Macebell video for the curious. Seriously, please be careful if you are going to try this lift. You really, really don't want to have that weight pendulum into your knee or torque your shoulder out of the socket.

Please also consider making a donation to Montana's NAMIWalk to help fight mental illness.  We're trying to raise $150,000 by Walk Day on September. You can donate at this link.  Thank you!

The Danger of Division Through Politics

NOTE: I'm as guilty of falling into this trap as everyone else. For all my attempts to avoid the dangers of identity in order to keep my temper under control, some part of me will always be the guy who jumped from a second-story balcony to a third-story balcony on Army-Navy weekend to confront two midshipmen that wouldn't stop bad mouthing West Point.


My two daughters watch Masha and Medved, a Russian cartoon, on Youtube. It's a cheap and easy way to introduce them to another language. More accurately, it's a way for me to feel better about cartoon time while the kids enjoy the universal humor of a toddler girl pestering a massive brown bear throughout the forest.

As regular as the dusk before the dawn, a creepy political ad always comes on before Masha and Medved. It's an incredible statement that our political system is so awash with cash that the advertisers are willing to dump money into changing the opinion of of toddlers who are Russian animation fans.

The ads always target Senator Jon Tester, a grain farmer from Northern Montana, who's represented our state for the last six years in Washington. A deep scary voice chants a list of alleged atrocities while terrifying pictures of Senator Tester slide and morph across the screen.

My girls always yell, "No, not this one again!" But the path to watching Marsha pester Medved winds through forests of political vitriol and hate. There's no fast-forward. Just more manufactured anger adjusted to reflect the latest polls.

The first time one of the advertisements came on, my oldest daughter recognized Senator Tester. I'd had a breakfast meeting with Senator Tester, Holly Petraeus and some other politicians about the challenges predatory lenders pose to military families. It was too early for a sitter so, I brought the girls.

Rectangular tables with white table clothes were laid out in a square pattern in the conference room. I sat on the far side of the square, directly across from Senator Tester. The girls ducked under the table beneath my feet, content to play with their coloring books and dolls.

Everything went well for the first fifteen minutes, but smiles and even a couple of light-hearted waves started appearing despite the somber tone of the conversation. The smiles and waves were directed at the table cloth by my feet. I lifted the table cloth up and bent down. Sure enough there were two little bodies underneath the tablecloth, but their heads were sticking out the other side - making faces at everyone in the room.

Fiona recognized Senator Tester from the ad, but she quickly phased out all the negative talk against him. Unfortunately, I don't know how many adults would do the same. In my job advocating for people with mental illness and their families, I don't have the luxury of listening to the partisan static. I have to get right down to the actual issues. I have to understand the good and the bad of both parties in order to get politicians within those parties to stand with our families.

In fact, the only bill that I've ever personally help draft for Congress was sponsored by both Senator Tester and his opponent Congressman Denny Rehberg. The divisive political ads would tell you that there's nothing they agree on. I know better.

The partisan fighting and ugly campaign tactics are bad for our country, but even more worrisome is they weight they carry on all the souls that buy into the fighting. Negative political ads stimulate fear and anger for the other politician and their supporters. If the campaign is successful, the fear and anger transform in hatred. The hatred behind that vote is a direct contradiction to Jesus's commandment that, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Matthew 22:39.

The section of Leviticus that Jesus was quoting is even more on point. "You shall not bear hatred for your brother in your heart. Though you may have to reprove your fellow man, do not incur sin because of him. Take no revenge and cherish no grudge against your fellow countrymen. You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Leviticus 19:17-18.

Based upon that teaching, political campaigns that stir up divisiveness and hatred are toxic to the human soul, regardless of the political party behind them.

In July of 1968, the late Catholic mystic Thomas Merton warned,  "One has to be pretty critical and independent about all ideas. And come to one's own conclusions on the basis of one's own frank experiences. Both the conservatives and the progressives seem to me to be full of the same kind of intolerance, arrogance, empty-headedness, and to be dominated by different kinds of conformism: in either case the dread of being left out of their reference group."

It's not that these issues aren't important. The powers wielded by our policymakers are critical - truly life and death. But the battle for power between interest groups leads to unnatural divisions and antagonism. A deep anger towards your neighbors based upon your interpretation of their views. You don't have to drink that Kool-Aid in order to exercise your responsibility to vote.

As you prepare to head for the polls. Forget about negative ads and political parties. Instead, think about the relationship between the power of government and the Divine.  "The way God acts in governing the world, which bears witness to such great regard for human freedom, should inspire the wisdom of those who govern human communities. They should behave as ministers of divine providence." Catholic Catechism, Section 1884.

Which candidate would behave as the better minister of divine providence. It's a challenging question that brings up several others:

• Which candidate will best protect children (both born and unborn)? 
• Which candidate will be care for our education system charged with helping our students make the most of their divine gifts?
• Which candidate will be protect our country without engaging in unnecessary wars?
• Which candidate will be the best steward for the planet and all that God's created?
• Which candidates will best protect families?
• Which candidate will best balance the interests of businesses and workers?
• Which candidate will best protect the needy, the sick and the disabled?
• Which candidate will keep our cities safe without unnecessary incarceration?

The answers are yours alone, based upon your education and experience. Don't outsource your decision to a political party or media personality; or let anyone else use the voting booth as a tool to insert hatred into your heart. 

Reflections Hiding the Depths

I stood on three inches of inflatable surfboard above the Missouri River. My shirt and shorts dripped from falling off before I got the board's air pressure right. The paddle in my hands and the current below pushed forward along of the seven and a half miles from Holter Dam towards Craig Bridge. 

Mountains rise up on each side of the river. They're covered by a mix of dark pine trees, jagged gray cliffs, and prairie grasses. Pelicans fly sorties over fly fisherman. The river reflects the image of mountains as dark curtains opening up to the reflection of the scattered clouds above. Eddies bob and swirl atop the reflected mountains and sky.

The water is deep and slow at the beginning of the float. The current barely moves.  The Missouri's depth hides the bottom from view. The river grows shallower as it crosses around the bend.  The sun pushes through the clouds to illuminate the rocks, sand and weed beds beneath the water's surface. Rainbow and brown trout chase each other across my field of vision.

The sun pulls back behind a cloud. The river bottom disappears as the surface of the Missouri regains the reflection of the sky and mountains above. The wind comes up from the north.  Ripples rise over the water.  The board  shifts under me. I struggle to paddle against the headwind. My legs quiver. My muscles in my back strain with each stroke.

The combination of wind and clouds hid my view of the depths below. It didn't matter. The awkward combination of trying to balance on a shifting board while paddling had my full attention. The river could have turned neon green and I might not have noticed.


Then the wind calmed, the sun slipped out from the clouds. My gaze returned to the river bottom and the fish that danced above it. The sun, the clouds, the depth, and the wind continued to shift my view of the river from reflection of sky, to inky blue, and then greenish river bottom. 


By the end of the ride, I was thinking about how similar those changing views are of our views on life and sacred reality. There are moments in life where it is nearly impossible not to see the outline of the Divine Hand. There are also moments, hours, weeks, and even months where the view is obscured by the distractions of life and the tasks at hand. 

These varying levels of spiritual insight are natural part of the Way and there can be a tremendous amount of power in the moments our vision stops at the surface. The letters of Mother Theresa of Calcutta demonstrate that this incredible woman of faith lived in spiritual darkness from the founding of her Missionaries of Charity in 1949 until her death in 1997. Mother Theresa's struggle to maintain her faith against the darkness was one of the most inspiring acts of spiritual endurance of the 20th century.

Most of us will not experience the darkness of the spiritual struggle on anywhere near the level of a mystic like Mother Theresa, but we will all experience it.  We need to see that darkness that spiritual blindness as an opportunity to demonstrate our faith. To continue forward against the challenges until we fight ourselves back beneath the glow of the Creator's divine light.

For without spiritual darkness, we would never be able to demonstrate that we meet the standard Jesus described in John: 20:31, "Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed."


NOTE: I wanted to include one more quote from Mother Theresa, but couldn't figure out a way to tie it into the post. "My dear children - without our suffering, our work would just be social work, very good and helpful, but it would not be the work of Jesus Christ, not part of the redemption." What a remarkable woman. You can read more about her spiritual struggle in the book Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light.

If you have a minute, please sign/share this web petition to the Secretary of the Army John McHugh to help injured soldiers access service dogs. Your help could make a big difference. Thank you!

Hang Gliding and the Perils of Being Self-Taught

Note: Please do not use this as an instruction guide for hang gliding.

Spring of 1993

"Mackin has a hang glider,"  KK whispered those words across the aisle in English class.

"Awesome!" I responded.

There was never any doubt that we were going to try it out.  It didn't matter that Mackin had just found the hang glider in the attic of his garage and the last person to use it was Mackin's grandfather sometime in the mid-1970's.

A quick query of our group of friends turned up no hang gliding knowledge beyond "You're supposed to run off high things."

So I went to the Capital High library and looked for a book on hang gliding.  They had one.  Well, kind of.  It was a book about kites that included a few chapters on hang gliding.  The book didn't have a set of directions, but I managed to identify these key points.

Lean left to go left.  Lean right to go right.  Lean forward to go faster.  Lean back to slow down.  Lean too far back and you risk stalling the hang glider in mid-air - not recommended.

I checked with my friends and we decided that those directions would be enough to get us through the maiden voyage.  As a precaution, we decided not to take it off anything too high until we got the feel for it.


Three days later, my friends and I stood on top off a large grassy hill northwest of Helena.  The hang glider had ripped when we bumped it into a barbed wire fence during transit, but we'd remembered duct tape so the mission continued.

The wind picked up from the east.  My stomach was full of nervous butterflies.  It was still a toss-up between me and Mackin for who would take the maiden flight.  I'd read the book, but he'd found the hang glider.  According to teenaged male logic, it was a close call.

I looked down the hill at the powerlines half a mile away.  "Do you think that those powerlines are too close?" I asked.

"No, it'll never go that far," KK said.  "Besides, even if it did, a guy would probably figure out how to steer it by then."

I nodded.

Then it happened.  While putting on one more layer of duct tape over the torn fabric, someone noticed a label that said the the hang glider had a weight limit.  It was 160 pounds.

I wasn't big, but I was well out of that range.  Mackin was ten or more pounds above 160.

Chet was the only member of our group that met the weight limit.  He volunteered with a chuckle.  Chet put on a motorcycle helmet while the rest of us tried to strap him onto the base of the hang glider.

The wind had died down while we were up on the hill, but we decided to give it a go anyway.  I held onto one side of the hang glider.  Mackin held onto the other side.  Chet held onto the bar in front of him and stared out at the horizon.  On the count of three, we ran...

And we ran and we ran.  Our flight team went a full fifty yards up and over the crest of the hill and then down below.  No lift, nothing.  So we turned around, walked back up the hill, and did it again.  Still nothing.

We went back on top of the hill and waited for the wind.  After about five minutes, a stiff breeze began to blow from the east.  Chet nodded and we began to run.  The wind caught flapping wings and launched the hang glider off of the hill.  Chets blue jean covered legs flapped in the blue sky.

I was cheering when a hard gust of wind hit the hang glider.  The nose of the hang glider snapped backward.  Chet didn't have time to lean forward.  The hang glider did a complete flip in the air and continued going backward.

Chet's feet were up in the air when the hang glider slammed into the ground below him.  The hang glider snapped in two.

I couldn't see Chet through the wreckage of the hang glider, but I could hear him scream in pain.  My feet carried me down the hill expecting to find snapped limbs and impaled guts.

I was wrong.  Chet was up and fighting way out of the harness.  His screams became more coherent.  "Cactus!  Cactus!"

The gust of wind had pulled Chet sixty yards through the air and dropped him down upon a massive patch of cactus.





I still chuckle every time I think about that day, but there is a lesson beyond the obvious hang gliding safety issues.  When tackling something challenging and important, it's important to have guidance from someone who knows more than you do.

It's a basic lesson and most of us wouldn't struggle to apply it to hang gliding; but we do struggle in applying it to something infinitely more complicated - our spiritual journey.

Most of us stumble along through our spiritual life.  We sit through the sermons on Sunday and nod at the appropriate times.  We might read through a Bible or some other spiritual book, but there's no system to it.  No one to help us get through our personal spiritual challenges.  No one with enough authority to tell us that we're not getting it.

We wouldn't expect to learn a trade with that learning style.  We wouldn't expect that method from any degree bestowing institution.  Yet, we rely upon it to come up with the answers to some of the most critical issues of our lives such as "Why are we here?" and "What happens to us when we die."

At some point, anyone working on developing a deeper spiritual life needs to go beyond that superficial level and find someone to help them find their way around the more challenging questions.  The anonymous author of  The Way of the Pilgrim strikes out upon this path when he determines that he is not going to get the specific answers he needs from general sermons.  "I settled on another plan - by God's help to look for some experienced and skilled person who would give me in conversation that teaching ... which drew me so urgently."

There aren't a lot of hermits on the mountains in this modern world.  Monks and sages are in short supply, but that's not a worthwhile excuse.  We can always find someone with enough knowledge about a faith question to a least point out a good book or two on an issue.  That spiritual director will not always be right, but some of the most powerful lessons will come while you're trying to figure out why they are wrong.

Without help, you might not go any farther than sixty yards down a hill and into a cactus patch.  With help, the horizon becomes a more likely destination.

Cider Vinegar, Anxiety and Mindfulness

August 2011

I'm not the best housekeeper.  It's not to the level where the Health Department is making complaints, but there's plenty of room for improvement.  I also tend to buy way too much fruit at Costco.  The result of those two character flaws is very predictable.  Every couple of months, my kitchen is taken over by fruit flies.

Fortunately, someone was kind enough to put a solution to my fruit fly problem on the internet.  Now each time they arrive in droves, I fill a glass with cider vinegar and then add a few drops of detergent.  The result is always a mass fruit fly drowning.  Their little bodies float around the cider like mob victims in the East River.

If I were a better person, I'd feel bad about it.  Maybe someday I'll reach that point and begin storing my fruit in the fridge.  Until then, I'll keep a bottle of cider vinegar in in the cabinet over the stove in preparation for the next wave of flies.

The last one was two weeks ago after I got overzealous in purchasing bananas.  I put out a vinegar trap and watched the carnage play out over the next couple of days.  The trap is that it takes advantage of the one of the fruit flies most important survival instincts - their ability to detect foods rich in natural sugars.

The fruit flies natural instincts tell them that the cider is a natural sugar jackpot.  They're always a little wary at first, but eventually move in to feed.  When faced with a sugary liquid, the small flies' feeding technique utilizes the surface tension of the liquid to support their bodies while they drink.

The detergent eliminates the surface tension on the surface of the cider.  The change of one variable transforms this normal and healthy feeding impulse and transforms it into a destructive urge.

As someone who has struggled against the crippling effects of anxiety over the years, I see some parallels in the way that the cider trap and anxiety trap their pray.  The root of anxiety is usually something good.  It may be anxiety for your past sins, your ability to care for your family, complete obligations at work, etc. 

These are all good inclinations when we can actually take action to affect the situtation that we're concerned about, but the change in one variable transforms them into anxiety that hazardous to our daily functioning and spiritual journey. 

That variable is the separation of our inclination to take action on an issue from the ability to take action.  If we are not able to act on the issue that concerns us, that natural concern festers into anxiety.  We spend more and more time dwelling on an issue that is currently beyond our control.  Until we end up in a situation that Buddhist monk and Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh describes as "lost in the past or carried away by future projects and concerns." 

The path to anxiety is well-traveled and its one that every Seeker needs to to avoid.  Saint Paul makes this very clear in his Letter to the Philippians when he writes, "Have not anxiety at all[.]" Saint Paul continues by stating that instead of being anxious we should make our requests known to God through prayer, "[t]hen the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."  Philippians 4:6-7.

Prayer is a simple shortcut around anxiety; but some of us, myself included, struggle to pray our way around it.  Some of my own shortcomings in this department are probably caused by weaknesses in faither and fervor, but I believe part of the probloem is my inability to reach a level of Inner Silence where I can pray effectively.  (I borrowed the term Inner Silence from the Sufi tradition, although in my case the Buddhist's goal of taming the "monkey mind" is probably more apt.)

For those of us not yet sitting at the front of prayer class, Saint Paul further describes the path to overcome anxiety.  "[W]hatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."  Philippians 4:7-8. The practice of short circuiting our brain's movement towards anxiety by focusing on something beautiful is described as concentrated mindfulness.

Buddhist practitioners call this practice vipasyana (looking deeply).  According to Thich Nhat Hanh, vipasyana "means observing something or someone with so much concentration that the distinction between observer and observed disappears."  Hanh add, "The result is true insight into the nature of an object."

Modern psychology is taking notice of the benefits of the type of concentrated mindfulness recommended by both the Buddha and St. Paul.  Many of the best therapists are now utilizing mindfulness based therapeutic practices such as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Dialectical Behavioral Therapy to treat extreme cases of anxiety, depression, and addiction.

Unfortunately, this rise in the secular world's practice of concentrated mindfulness has corresponded with the diminishment in the  average Western Christian's use of these techniques.  We are so focused on Sain Paul's first lesson calling us to prayer that we have forgotten about his second less calling us to mindfulness. 

We must reclaim practice because for many of us Saint Paul's call to mindfulness is a necessary tool to achieve the Lord's command to "Be still, and know that I am God."  Psalm 46:10.  


END NOTE: The quote of Psalm 46:10 is taken from the New International Version of the Bible.  The New American Version of the Bible describes the command as "Be still and confess that I am God!"  For anyone looking for simple techniques to experience mindfulness, I recommend Come to Your Senses: Demystifying the Mind Body Connection by Dr. Stanley Block and Carolyn Bryant-Block.  Dr. Block's techniques are being utilized by everyone from combat vets with PTSD to major league baseball players.

Drop Your Hammer

February 2002

I lowered a spinning saw blade down through gray siding. It was cold and I had no idea what I was doing here.

For all of my life, I’d generally thought that God had a plan for me and if I waited long enough it would become apparent. I watched the excess siding fall into the snow and decided that it was pretty clear that that was no longer the case.

An injury in Ranger School had led me out of the Army and my military resume was a square peg in the round hole of the civilian job market. I was the weak Number Two Man in a two-man construction crew. To be a successful carpenter requires an innate understanding of how material objects can fit together in a beautiful manner. I couldn’t even find the puzzle, much less put it together.

I was the cut-and-carry guy while Shane, my boss, worked his magic. One look at my hammer made it clear how bad of a cut-and-carry guy I was. It was monstrosity of gleaming metal and dull wood. The metal gleamed because it was so huge that I could barely swing it.

The clerk at Big R Ranch Supply who was helping me picked out tools had asked me how big of a hammer I swing. My cocky reply of “as big as you’ve got” left me with a brutal tool that would have been more useful prying someone out of a crashed car than framing a house.

Four years of West Point in order to be the worst construction worker in Helena, Montana? I’d given up on a divine plan, but I did need the ten bucks an hour. I picked up the cut of siding, walked over to the house, and raised it up to Shane.

Over the next two days we finished up the siding. The snow had melted then it froze and snowed again. Shane was up on the roof sweeping off snow so it wouldn’t melt and send water down onto the still-new masonry.

I was busy trying to look busy until Shane gave me another task. That generally involved carrying things from one part of the construction site to another part where they might be more useful.

I set another bundle of siding down by the saw. I heard a voice say, “Take off your hammer.”

I looked back at Shane, but the voice wasn’t his. He was still sweeping the snow off the roof. I glanced down at my hammer and then looked forward at the saw.

“Take off your hammer,” said the strong feminine voice.

I looked around again, but the voice wasn’t coming through the cold air. I protested internally. I can’t take off my hammer. I’m a bad enough construction worker anyway. I don’t need to point it out by gallivanting around without a hammer.”

“Go to the ladder.”

I didn’t want to disagree twice. I walked over to the metal ladder and looked up at Shane swiping the little green broom back and forth. The fresh snow tumbled off of the roof and onto my face.

I silently cursed the voice and wished my knit cap had a visor.

“He’s coming down.”

My head snapped up. I watched Shane stretch the broom wider then he grunted and slipped. The grunt turned into a yell as his body slid over the icy shingles. This lower body launched into the cold air. Shane grabbed for the edge of the roof, hoping to stop his fall. The feet pendulummed down towards the house and he fell again, now headfirst towards the concrete below.

I took a step to my right and lifted my hands, remembering the words of a military climbing instructor – brace don’t catch. I planted my hands against his dropping shoulders. I somehow remembered the hammer and shifted my right hip away from his falling body. Shane’s full weight hit me and plowed us both into the concrete.

I thought he died. Shane was unconscious. Blood soaked out of the hood of his sweatshirt. I called 911. Shane started breathing again. I tried to comfort him as the paramedics came. “It’s going to be alright. You’re going to be alright…”

I broke down after the ambulance pulled away to take him to the hospital.

Shane ended up with a concussion, broken collarbone, and a few broken ribs. They said he probably would have died if he hadn’t landed on me. Shane’s wife still has a husband and his kids still have their father.

I didn’t know how to say it at the time without sounding crazy (clearly I’m not worried about that anymore), but I knew that it wasn’t me that saved him. If anything, I probably botched my role. In better hands, Shane might not have even hit the ground. Thank God, I remembered the warning about the hammer. If I hadn’t have turned my hips, it would have went right through him.

I’ve wracked by brain for almost nine years trying to figure out the events of that day, why I received that warning, and why I haven’t had the same warning for other loved one that I’ve lost. I don’t have any hard answers, but I do have my own conclusions and hopefully I’m more courageous about telling them than I was about telling the truth about what happened then.

The only undeniable conclusion that I’ve come is that if a voice ever tells you to take your hammer off your tool belt - do it. Keeping your job is about to become the least of your worries.