Blog by

Michael T. Lembke

The Army recently rolled out the results of a 15-month study, Health Promotion, Risk Reduction and Suicide Prevention Report 2010. It's a comprehensive, straight-forward in presentation of 350 pages of facts. Over the last week I've read it, attended a video teleconference, and begun talking with our Inspector General about ways to implement some of this report's recommendations.

Know thyself. It's a true maxim we all know. It's also easier said than done; to take a long look at oneselfWell ... this is what the Army did. In the recent past the number of suicides has risen in the Army and we, as an institution, are looking into, over, through and beyond the numbers to develop ways to responsibly respond to the needs of an Army at war.

Introspection can be painful, but it's how we learn and grow. It's the way we must go to continue our mission and remain a viable, ready and relevant force. I am glad to see report recommendations that center on promoting wellness, shared accountability and a multi-disciplinary approach-toward implementing reasonable, long and short term personal and programmatic steps that counter suicidal and other self destructive behaviors.

Chaplains get involved in this through ministry, retreats, counseling, worship and educational opportunities. We are often the ones to instruct suicide prevention, but we're acutely aware that destructive behaviors are highly individual. No PowerPoint charts get at the sadness and despair that often accompany suicidal thoughts and actions.

My office recently sponsored a "Wellness, Wholeness and Perspectives" conference, focusing on life affirmation and suicide prevention. Thirty-five chaplains and assistants gathered at our base in Baghdad to discuss in small and large groups, ways that lead to living the abundant life. I am very encouraged by the outcomes and the creative commitment of our Religious Support Teams. Framing the three-day event were: prayer, devotion, candor and exploration of various theologies of life, suffering, grief and hope.

I'm also thinking a lot about the staff with whom I work. They are a great source of joy and professional uplift. I could only have dreamed of this kind of team. These are great folks, from different parts of the US, and include one from Puerto Rico, one naturalized from the Cameroon, a Navy Chaplain, an Air Force Sergeant, a Rabbi, folks from Georgia and Texas... We have two guys who played college football. I get the benefit of their combined wisdom, life experience, professional dialogue. We also discuss differences, cuisine and customs.

The staff balance out the study. Staff members reinforce the duty, discipline and personal responsibility that make serving here such a satisfying experience. With this group of people, I'm determined to address the difficulties of our present realities and work on wellness, wholeness and perspective.

I just finished John Gresham's book, The Appeal. The bad guys win. I was a bit disappointed. Gresham includes some disclaimers to clarify his rationale and to state that corruption has been an issue in the election of some state Supreme Court judges. Though I would have liked a happier, tidier ending, Gresham does make the point that greed, avarice and injustice are everywhere. No country is free of these sins.

The book also reminds me that life has so much more color than a black/white, either/or context. Most of life isn't so easy -- in fact it's downright complex, ambiguous and messy. As Christians, men and women of faith, it is our call to live in this world, perhaps with more appreciation for the multifaceted nature of peacemaking and problem-solving. If one takes a "diamond" approach -- working to understand the various "facets" of a situation, circumstance, problem or relationship -- opportunity can emerge, rather than just picking sides and throwing barbs.

A text from Luke 12, usually referred to as the parable of the rich fool, warns us to be rich toward God. But the context is one brother's demand that Jesus step in to force the other brother to divide the inheritance. Jesus uses this circumstance to focus us on eternity, not temporal adjudication of the division of wealth. While Jesus makes no direct reference to the brother, there could be the implication that the one brother might want to reconcile with the other in order to focus on the relationship rather than on the wealth that might be gained.

This is an important teaching in Iraq, where brothers and sisters struggle to discover one nation. Faith often fuels violence and greed takes over where justice should begin. Either/or must give way to consideration and compromise. As I have often said, cooperation, compromise and consideration take trust and risk. Scarce commodities in Iraq, but trust and risk do exist.

This past week I was down in the area where Abraham is thought to have been born: Ur of the Chaldees. A Ziggurat, or ancient terraced pyramid, sits just outside the military compound. This site, along with other religious and historical sites scattered throughout Iraq, gives witness to the possibilities for Iraq again to take its place in the international community.

What a joy to hear the confident hum of the A/C unit in my trailer as I enter it at the end of each day. Air conditioning shapes my life. When the electricity goes out, the temperature in my little room climbs dramatically. In 10 minutes it's hardly bearable. We owe a lot to the invention of electricity. It powers our lives. When it's off, tempers flare -- and in this country, guns and bombs go off. 

As you may have read elsewhere, the lack of essential services is yet another reason for pessimism in this country. Electricity, running water, sewage disposal, garbage pickup and reliable telephone service are all essential -- nay, vital -- life-empowering services. But in Iraq there are great challenges in serving and delivering these essential elements of daily life. Even though Iraq pumps and sells a great deal of oil, it has very little refinery capability. The infrastructure is a victim of many years of neglect.

What seems lacking is the intangible electricity of innovation, motivation and improvisation. Before the electricity gets turned on, developed and distributed, there must be a willingness to trust and risk. That's the real hard part. Trust, the essential element of community life, is very difficult to come by.

I work mostly in the area of spiritual infrastructure. I realize, as do many, that it is only through harnessing the energy of goodwill and hope that anything positive will occur. It's finding and reconnecting loose wires to form a linked conduit of prayer, purpose and action. While it certainly takes more than words, words are needed too --  words formed and spoken in rational, not vindictive tones.

Change takes words well spoken, not bullets well aimed. Change takes words that come from thought, not from visceral reaction and anger. This takes work, but as Thomas Edison said, "Many people shy away from opportunity because it comes dressed in overalls and looks like work."

As Adm. Mike Mullen, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, said: "Only through a shared appreciation of the people's culture, needs, and hopes for the future can we hope ourselves to supplant the extremist narrative. We cannot capture hearts and minds. We must engage them; we must listen to them, one heart and one mind at a time" (quoted in Greg Mortenson's Stones into Schools).

Yes, the electricity is frequently off in Iraq, but the tea is on. The tea-drinking culture of conversation and hospitality does exist here, and I will continue to engage in this most interesting of the sacred activities, spiritual diplomacy.

Last night I turned to Part III, "The School on the Roof of the World." And on the very next page, "An E-mail from the American Colonel," there they are: Nate Springer and Chris Kolenda. I know these guys!

Capt. Nate Springer served on the Division Staff in OIF II when I was with the 1st Infantry Division. He married a Lutheran. And while in Iraq, he and I grew to know each other through his confirmation instruction and subsequent confirmation. Chris Kolenda served the division as the rear detachment commander in Wurzburg, Germany.

Now I'm anxious to read about how Mortenson has engaged with the U.S. military to offer advice and explore ways to develop a more open culture in Afghanistan that still preserves the country's dignity and traditions. Not an easy task, but Mortenson is on to something in emphasizing schools, especially schools for girls. He is that unique kind of individual who is fully willing to commit everything in a well-reasoned, yet borderline irrational manner. Among the many interesting things is how positively most of the local people react to Mortenson, who has that rare quality of building bridges quickly and providing tangible results.

Reading Mortenson is fun, involving, energizing, exciting and invigorating. It gives me hope for Iraq, Afghanistan and all areas of the world where people benefit from reading, learning and asking questions. (Gee ... I guess that's just about everyone!)

Lembke meets with Shiite clerics.

Well, I took my Jacob-and-Esau motivated naiveté into the studio this past week to record some encouragement under the title New Dawn Songs, with fellow musicians and technicians. Most of the songs aren't new (I've written them over the last 10 years), but the tempos, style and intent are fresh. Our title song, "New Dawn," will become a music video, with footage of good things going on in Iraq: schools, soccer fields, business ventures and other things that express hope for Iraq through music.

Song titles include "Roots," "Listen to the Lord," "Remember," "Stay in the Ring" and a new offering, "Grace-full Person." I'll be working with a new acquaintance, Canon Andrew White of St. Georges' in Baghdad, the church's youth group, and the conductor of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra to have "New Dawn" translated into Arabic and recorded for Iraq radio.

Lembke rehearses with New Dawn musicians.

In the story of the reunion between Jacob and Esau, there is a wrestling match Jacob goes through the night before, the uncertainty of the meeting and then, finally, the joyful reunion. It's a precarious story, clouded in wonderment and fear, right up until the moment when the brothers embrace. I suppose it's like that here in Iraq. There is great uncertainty. The specter of the unknown looms large and expectations aren't high for positive outcomes.

To me, that makes this the perfect opportunity to sing. I learned this from my mom, who, when we kids would act up, fight, yell or be out of control, would start singing hymns or parts of the liturgy: "All we, like sheep, have gone astray." "Lord have mercy upon us ... Christ have mercy upon us." We'd instantly stop and say, "Please stop singing," because we were embarrassed or whatever. But we stopped. Maybe our songs will get attention, spark positive action or just get people thinking. Jacob took the risk. So will I.

Thanks for your prayers for our soldiers.

ELCA chaplain Michael T. Lembke (left) enjoys lunch with Karim Wasfi, principal conductor of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra. The men talked about the possibilities for peace-building through music.

Wasfi, a graduate of the Baghdad School of Music, also studied at Indiana University, Bloomington, and Boston University. He has U.S. citizenship but remains in Iraq to help rebuild the artistic fabric of the country. After our lunch, he sent me this e-mail:

Dear Father Lembke,

Likewise, it has been a real pleasure meeting you and sharing views. I do thank you and others who shared with us the bread.

I survived the 33rd blast this morning, and to my surprise (not shock) I was standing with the glass flying around and not through me — was a strange lifelong second as it was too long! I thought after all God must be also protecting!

These were two simultaneous attacks very close to the Peace Through Arts center. I anticipated the second. By the time I was warning the guys about what was still to take place, the second vehicle exploded and again all the glass and shrapnel! Strange enough, no casualties.

I am glad you liked the Korsakov.

Two Iraqi music students share a laugh during a visit with Lembke.

Wasfi had given me a DVD of the orchestra's last concert and I'd told him by e-mail that I enjoyed a piece by Korsakov. I know the timing of this blast and could see that his e-mail was composed shortly after — and still he finishes by talking about the music.

At the beginning of the week, I participated in one Memorial Day observance and attended another. Meanwhile, my wife, Nancy, and her mom, Carol, were in Belgium at the cemetery where my mother-in-law's brother, Walter, is buried. He was killed in action on Dec. 17, 1944, near Dillingen, Germany. My brother Tony and his family observed Memorial Day at a ceremony in Summit, N.J. I'm sure many of you observed the day as well, in festivity and remembrance.

ELCA military chaplain Michael T. Lembke (center) rides in a Stryker Armored Vehicle with members from another base.

Memorial services and Memorial Days are as much about the living as the dead — perhaps more so.

That week I also attended three different engagements: one with a Turkman, one with a Sunni Muslim and one with a Christian from north of Iraq. Each conveyed their hopes that the government will form soon so the country can get on with business. They think business could be good since Iraq has both oil and water, and the possibility to attract foreign investors. Of course, first the security situation must improve.

Lembke (second from left) enjoys time in dialogue with a Sunni Muslim who works as a professor of English at Tikrit University.

And in the meantime? How can it be less of a "mean time"? As with any relationship where there is almost no trust, any gains are cautious, fraught with anxiety and low expectations, carrying little hope. It's a kind of one-step-forward-two-steps-back mentality. And yet we engage each other. We talk. We share. And I try to promote dialogue. I'm grateful for our Iraqi partners, who come out to discuss these difficult issues. They, more than I, put themselves at great risk by participating in such dialogues.

During the week, I visited one of our outlying bases, giving a talk at a prayer breakfast. I spent time with the chaplains and assistants, and got to check out a Stryker Armored Vehicle. I'd been in Bradley Fighting Vehicles, but never a Stryker. The guys gave me a ride around the block and talked about the vehicle's capabilities. The brigade chaplain took me by a memorial "park" in their compound. It took me right back to Memorial Day and ceremonies I had attended there in 2004 and 2005. Looking at the list of names from my time there, I recalled many. We've been in Iraq a long time. The base's chapel looked much as it did five years ago, as did many other parts of the camp.

Lembke (left) and George, from Lebanon.

I also met with a guy from Lebanon, who has been doing construction at this camp since 2004. We sat outside in the 115-degree heat (but it's dry heat) as he poured tea for us and spoke of the changes over the years.

My goal continues to be to connect the dots between cultures, individuals and languages. In seeking those real, deep, abiding connections that bring and hold people together, I learned that the Lebanese gentleman is a Marionite Christian. I said a prayer for him and his brother, and I chanted an evening prayer from the Lutheran Book of Worship: "Blessed are you, O Lord our God ... King of the Universe ...," ending with that universal word of connection, "Amen."

Army chaplain Michael T. Lembke (center) leads a discussion on resiliency in the force.

I've found some really good opportunities for engagement, discussion, professional discourse and dialogue in the past week or so. I hosted a Senior Religious Support Team Conference at Joint Base Balad, where 17 of us discussed resiliency, worship and the drawdown of forces in Iraq (which means closing some chapels and sending a lot of equipment to Afghanistan).

Based on Mark 1:29-38, I challenged our group to work on personal, professional and pastoral discipline. Our Lord healed many. He served; then he healed Simon's mother-in-law; then he received care from the healed woman; then, the next morning, he went out to a solitary place to pray; and then he continued the mission. It's all there, basically in one day: the call to seize opportunity for service, for solitude and for fellowship.

I'm also working on meeting with some musicians and artists in Baghdad. I think we will soon get to visit with the conductor of the Baghdad Symphony. I also have the name of an oud player. The oud is the ancient precursor to the lute and guitar (which I play). I'm interested especially to see how songwriters and artists are expressing their cultural and religious views in the new democracy in Iraq.

Army chaplain Michael T. Lembke (right) plays during a worship service.

I read on a website for a heavy metal band about a group in Iraq that was asked about music they were forced to write during Saddam Hussein's time. When asked if they played that music anymore, the band said, "Absolutely not!" They are looking for freer expression these days.

It's not only in theology that we experience the divine. It's not only from overtly religious music that we receive blessing or touch the hand of God. There is much true and real grace in the arts, and I want to find it. This has been in my heart since I was in Bosnia in 2000. I think perhaps this time I will have an opportunity to speak with musicians and artists of differing ages, faiths and ethnic backgrounds.

In Iraq, there is much courage and opportunity to bear inconvenience-which often opens up a view on something I might otherwise have missed. Here's to staying on the "joy" side. Thanks for your prayers for our soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines.

Recently I met with two groups, sharing profound experiences that continue to shape my time in Iraq. 

Wounded warriors

Like author and theologian Henri Nouwen's wounded healer, wounded warriors see life more clearly and seem uniquely grateful and fulfilled.

ELCA military chaplain Mike Lembke (center) was encouraged to meet with U.S. military "wounded warriors" in Iraq.

Jesus became known to the disciples on the road to Emmaus in the sharing of a meal. It's no different in this case. We open our mouths to take in the chow, to ask questions, to share insights and to get to know each other. The unspoken is that we already know each other. We know each other in duty and service, in hard training and in frequent deployment. I don't look so much at the absence of appendages but at their eyes, where I see strength and suffering.

I ask how they remained resilient throughout their time in the hospital and in rehab and now, having the guts to come back to Iraq. Each person offered the same answer: family and friends. They each also spoke of a mentor, a faithful Christian who shared wisdom and faith. One said: "Although I'm not that religious, he is....He shared his faith and he never missed a day. He was there for me."

Iraqi undergraduates

These Iraqi college students inspired ELCA military chaplain Mike Lembke with their courage and persistence.

Meeting with these two groups now, after 3 months in the theater, is like quilting together comfort, joy, pathos and the sacred. It's easy to criticize and accuse. It's so much harder to act in openness and to pursue wisdom in suffering for self and others. To me these are visions of God and mysteries of faith.

My life in Iraq is predicated on two things: faith and duty. My surroundings are pleasant enough: a nice office, Internet access, good food, adequate quarters and great people with whom to work. But it is my faith in God — my belief that eternal life informs my actions in this life — that empowers and encourages me day-to-day. My sense of duty drives me even when I'm homesick, afraid or feeling low. So, yes, my day is about faith and duty. That's the macro-picture.

The micro-picture is that I start each day in prayer and action: reading a devotional, doing push-ups and sit-ups, running. Lots of the soldiers go to the gym, but I prefer a little roadwork. The course I run is around a lake, complete with palm trees and a nice view. There is also the wall that separates our operating base from Baghdad proper-reminding me of the volatile nature of our presence here.

On to breakfast in my room: instant oatmeal, a cup of tea and some reflection. At 0730 (7:30 a.m.) I'm off to get the update from the commanding general. During this couple of hours we receive all of the information from the previous day. It's a chance to see many staff members at headquarters since my office is in another building. I'm the pastor for these folks, so I'm always attuned to any pastoral care needs that may emerge.

I thought I'd be attending a lot of meetings, but that's not been the case. I spend most of my time providing guidance and direction on matters of religious support, directing the activities of my staff and planning visits to outlying areas. I also set up Religious Leader Engagements at the International Zone in Baghdad. This work is possible thanks to chaplains and others who live in the International Zone and cultivate relationships and dialogue on a daily basis with Iraqi religious leaders-Muslim, Christian and Jewish.

My work is interesting and exciting-a coming together of faith and duty that is a most pleasant experience. Or as we say, "It is our duty and delight that we should at all times and in all places offer thanks and praise to you, O Lord."

Sunday is the best day of the week, meaningful and uplifting. I usually attend three services-sometimes four. At 0830 (8:30 a.m.) there is a Protestant service with a band and good preaching. I play guitar for the 1000 (10 a.m.) mass. At 1600 (4 p.m.) I help lead a Lutheran service, with a nice flock of 25 folks. I play guitar for this service as well (and I'm on the hunt for a piano player) and sometimes preach and preside. I've also attended the 1830 (6:30 p.m.) "contemporary" service and preached at a Lutheran service on the Air Force part of our base. It's a good beginning to the week.

For many soldiers every day is about the same, but for me every day is different and punctuated by Sunday. Faith and duty enliven and grow my life and work here. Every day I also take time to communicate with family and friends. I have to be intentional or the days just start going by. While these updates inform you (I hope), they serve to remind me that going through this year on unreflective autopilot would be too bad.

At about 8 p.m., I wrap things up, and usually get enough sleep.

Thanks to each of you for keeping faith with me, praying for me and our soldiers, and bearing this burden of combat. This connection is not the stuff of greeting card sentiment but the absolute bedrock that defines my sense of duty and grows my faith.

Walking away from the chapel, where the praise band was still playing, I also heard a lone bagpiper and, simultaneously, the evening call to prayer from the minaret. I stopped and tried hard to hear a single-line melody in there somewhere. Although a great stretch, in my own mind, under a full moon, I heard something that was woven together. I can't give it a name. It was only a passing sound. But it did challenge me to think about what it means to bring different cultures together —- each trying to be heard.

Michael T. Lembke, ELCA military chaplain, plays the guitar at a recent worship service in Baghdad, Iraq.

In a rock band, if I can't hear myself play guitar, I turn up my amplifier. But then you can't hear yourself, so you turn up yours. Then the singer can't hear, so he turns up the PA system, and then ... well ... it's just noise. But in this moment after worship, the sound waves just hung out there to be enjoyed in that moment, with no competition or evaluation. It was a pleasant experience.

A door in Iraq.

It's important to take the long view, to take the risk of going through the open door to engage the folks on the other side. Our military chaplains are often in the position to make these contacts and enter into relationships based on mutual care and consolation. As we visit soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines, there is always an opportunity to knock on the door of someone's heart and be invited into those secret places of pain, anguish, fear and anger. When these doors open, it's an invitation to discover again the path that leads to inner peace and the restoration of joy.

Sometimes doors are slammed in your face -- there is no openness and we must admit our limitations and failings. This is OK, too, since it's important to realize that none of us can accomplish the "door" moments by ourselves. I discover every day, more and more, that opening doors involves others, dialogue, differing perspectives, and the all-out pursuit of divine wisdom and understanding.

A soldier asked me recently, "So what is it we get out of these engagements with the Iraqis?" This is truly the "so what" question. I explained that, first of all, it's about presence and the extension of the right hand of friendship. When chaplains visit with Iraqis, at whatever level, it's about theology, vision, justice, mercy and grace. It's less about promises of money and power and politics. Those conversations are for others to have (and are very important). But it's our role, as chaplains, to consciously seek ways to promote genuine dialogue and listen to stories and personal narratives.

I remind myself often that Iraq has a long history and its most recent history (since 1980) is a twisting path of warring violence, scarcity and abuse. I remind myself that history does not begin with me and I have much to learn before I offer any golden nuggets of solution.

Here's to opening doors.

Most of time the job of a Baghdad weatherman isn’t too exciting. But for now, the possibility of clouds and rain, wind and dust storms, keeps us guessing. The weather-gazing does open one up to other possibilities in this place. Iraq’s recent historic elections point toward the emergence of a greater voice for broader segments of the population, signaling a conscious movement toward self-determination.

Lembke stands in his green "oasis."

'Why are you here?'

One building in Baghdad’s International Zone looks like something off the set of Wizard of Oz: the Wicked Witch of the West’s castle. It’s a forbidding, tomblike structure. A man I recently met said he was tortured six times there. He told me this as we drove back to where he lives — just across the street, in the shadow of this building. When I asked why he’s here, working with U.S. forces and living near this awful building, he said it’s a duty and delight to work for his countrymen (he is currently a U.S. resident) and to say thanks for what the U.S. has done to help Iraqis rebuild their country.

At a time when the U.S. Army is working to ensure that our soldiers are resilient and able to cope with the demands of deployment, here is a great example of focused and intentional resiliency in spirit, mind and body.

I also met a man who fled Iraq in the early 1990s. With his family, he made a 19-day journey to a refugee camp in Saudi Arabia. He then applied for permission to immigrate to the U.S. It took more than a year, but now he’s a resident of Memphis. (He loves the blues and Beale Street.)

Meeting him here in Baghdad, I thought: “Why didn’t you stay in Memphis, continue your education (he already has a doctorate), enjoy life and listen to the blues instead of coming back here and living the blues?” As we sat together, I spoke my thought aloud: “Why did you come back?”

“I want to give back,” he said. “I want to help. I want to be involved.”

These are the people I get to spend my time with these days. It’s humbling, to say the least. A visitor in this place, I marvel to sit with those whose country this is and see how they are on the threshold of a freely elected government, with the chance to make this experiment work.

Multifaith gathering

I met these men at a luncheon for area religious leaders. The event brought together 45 people from various religious groups to share a meal and hear from Gen. Ray Odierno, the commanding officer of U.S. Forces-Iraq. Most of our time was spent in lively discussion, enjoying good food. Also present were Iraqi governmental figures, one of the U.S. ambassadors, and some folks from the U.S. Institute for Peace. I was happy to see representatives from the Sunni, the Shia, the Vatican mission to Baghdad, the Iraqi Baptist Convention, sheiks and U.S. military personnel.

There was grass at the place we met. Standing in the grass under trees, I felt hopeful. Various groups with much contention among them had gathered to share a meal, insights and questions. It was an oasis moment. We know that much anger, resentment, sin and sadness lurk just outside this moment. And we see the hope and possibility while in the oasis. So I soaked up the conversation, listened, talked a little (I’m the new guy) and observed.  

Most of all I’m thankful to serve as a soldier and clergyperson in this place at this time. I’m thankful to be in the presence of dedicated men and women who are working to make Iraq a better place.

Lembke, an ELCA Army chaplain, stands near a palace on a lake in Baghdad.

I've now been here a little over a week. In some ways the trip, the waiting, the sand, the wind and the gut-wrenching feeling of saying goodbye for a year all seemed natural and familiar. Days and dates meld into a continuum and mission timetable as I get to know the people, the place and the current circumstances.

As you may have heard or read in the media, the news here is all about the Iraqi elections and the U.S. leaving Iraq. There is a great deal of positive momentum for both. It's interesting to arrive in Iraq at the time of the elections and see many hopeful signs of cooperation as the Iraqis go to the polls. I was here in January 2005 to see the first election. This time around, the Iraqi people are electing individual candidates and have a great opportunity to really decide the direction of their country.

But I'm also reminded that there are still many barriers in the country to a safe and secure environment. My daily reminders are actual concrete barriers all over the base. Of course, they are there to protect us from indirect and direct fire. All around the base, around each building, down each road and standing guard around parking lots, these great stone dividers protect-and yet divide and hide. It's a necessary product for a safe environment on the base. But in the world of establishing a framework for friendship and engagement, other barriers-the prejudicial "barriers" of ethnic and religious hatred-are more than an inconvenience. They are a ponderous obstacle to reconciliation, understanding and the growth that comes from listening to the other person's story.

I like the desert, but all of the barriers obstruct any view. So it is with barriers of prejudice that we place between us and others. They obstruct the view so we miss what lies beyond. It is indeed risky to remove the barriers ... very risky. Yet that is what the Iraqis are doing with these elections. They are taking the risk of taking down the barriers, to come out and vote. I pray that their efforts bring a good reward and that these elections will signal a real new dawn for the country.

Thanks for your prayers for our soldiers.

On a recent visit to Tucson, Ariz., Mike (far right) and Nancy Lembke (far left) spent time with Mike’s sister, Liz, her husband Oscar, and watched their nephews play soccer.

There were a lot of people, animals, vegetation, and all kinds of activity and action, but I had to start looking for them. And that's when the trip became fun.

That same dividing line exists as I approach my mission in Iraq. On the one hand, there's great opportunity as I get to be part of a mission we began in February 1991. Nineteen years ago I was sitting in Tactical Assembly Area "Garcia," waiting to cross the border into Iraq. It's exciting to think that after all these years, there's a distinct possibility that we will complete this mission and enter into a new relationship with the Iraqis that is diplomatic in nature. On the other hand, it's tough to be away from home for a year. Getting used to deployment separation is like getting used to a visit to the dentist — you don't.

So it's all in how you look at it: an attitude thing. On my way to Tucson, I began to be curious about the people, the environment and the culture of that part of the U.S. And that's the curious spirit I take into Iraq. I don't feel that I know what to expect because I've been there before. As philosophers say, "You can never step into the same river twice." It's a new mission and Iraq is a different country than it was in February 2005.

I'll do my best to leave my assumptions behind and open myself up to learning and growing as I work with other chaplains to provide religious support, word and sacrament ministry, visitation and grief counseling to our soldiers and commanders.

In February 2004 I was in Kuwait waiting to travel to Tikrit, Iraq. At that time, I wrote an e-mail that still rings true today:

"As I recall from [spending] two years in the Mojave Desert at Fort Irwin, [Calif.], the desert is always a harsh environment and doesn't seem to care about those who seek to inhabit it. Those who seem to fare best go with the wind, seek the grass where it grows, put up structures that are easily moved and take long breaks in the heat of the day. This is not the way most Americans live, so it is difficult for us to adapt to this environment, this harsh, unbending, unyielding place. My mom sent me a quote from a book called Walking the Bible that goes something like this: ‘Because the desert is demanding, it builds character. Because it is destructive, it builds interdependence. Because it is isolating, it builds community.'"

I continue preparing in prayer, hope and action. I'll let you know how it goes.

Editor's Note: While we await the next blog post from military chaplain Col. Michael T. Lembke, we're sharing photos from some of his previous deployments.

ELCA military chaplain Michael T. Lembke leads Easter Sunday worship in Kuwait in April 1991.

ELCA military chaplain Michael T. Lembke worked with Bosnian chaplains and Bishop Vasilije Kacavenda in Tuzla, Bosnia, in 2001.

Physicists say it requires five times the energy to break inertia as it takes to sustain momentum.

The Army says it's time to send Chaplain Lembke (me) back to Iraq for another tour of duty.

How do I feel about that? Well, it is a beginning of sorts. And it can be difficult. There's much to do to prepare, and leaving one's home and country is never easy.

But in a way my journey began Christmas Day 1990 when our unit left Aschaffenburg, Germany, to serve in Operation Desert Shield. We participated in Desert Storm in January and February 1991. In 1998 and 1999, with the Third Infantry Division at Fort Stewart, Ga., we readied ourselves, vehicles and equipment for another deployment to Iraq ... but in the end, didn't go. Then from February 2004 to February 2005, I served as the 1st Infantry Division chaplain in Operation Iraqi Freedom.

This deployment is the latest chapter in my life — one I look forward to sharing with you monthly (perhaps more frequently as I find time).

As I prepare to depart in the next month or so, I have many emotions. But these days, it's not so much feelings but the eight Fs of resiliency I'm considering: Faith, Family, Friends, Forgiveness, Focus, Future, Fun and Flexibility. Each word is full of reality, hope and love. I'm also acutely aware of my roots, what I believe and how it affects my life. There's a clarity that comes with a deployment mission — a depth of purpose and focus from participating in something greater than self.

I love serving God and country. There's joy in sharing in the lives of soldiers and their families. These are times of great stress and strain for the Army, and the presence of military chaplains to offer the word and sacraments, pastoral care and counseling is essential.

"Pursue wisdom. Listen in love and remember. Faith is portable and duty is deep" — I encourage chaplains I work with to frame their actions and ministry with these phrases.

I'm bearing these things in mind myself. I'm remembering that wisdom is a product of the thoughtful combination of knowledge and understanding. I'm remembering that I best convince others by listening and listening and listening some more. And I will remember that my faith doesn't depend on my location and that I must do my duty despite difficult circumstances, separation and hardship.

I look forward to regularly sharing thoughts with you.

Thanks for praying for our soldiers.