I stand at attention in the galley, holding my study sheet at arms length. I stare at the words while eyeing my food peripherally.
I am a United States Sailor.
I blankly read this line on repeat as my arm starts to tire.
Has everyone gotten their food yet?!
I’m not permitted to sit down until all eighty-three sailors in Echo Company have gotten their food too. It’s the first time in my life I’ve dreaded going to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner.
I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America and I will obey the orders of those appointed over me.
I guess this is me obeying the orders of those appointed over me. Almost thirty minutes have gone by. My food’s cold now. I don’t really feel like eating anymore.
“TAKE SEATS! THIS IS YOUR FIFTEEN MINUTE WARNING.”
This is our order to begin eating in complete silence while staring straight ahead. 15 minutes to finish.
How did I find myself here?
June 12, 2022: the day I found myself an active duty Naval officer at “prison summer camp” ~ aka Officer Development School (ODS).
It’s hard to describe the transition of civilian to soldier, but a comparison to prison has some accuracy. From the first day of ODS, I was stripped of any sense of individuality: from what I wore, when and what I could speak, how I walked, how I ate. Any deviation from uniformity resulted in ear-piercing yells and often physical discipline.
Joining the military also requires the voluntary sacrifice of freedom and autonomy. Suddenly, I was no longer allowed to go anywhere without a “battle buddy.” Each weekend, we were given a detailed list of the (few) places and things we were permitted to go and have. Hell, it took us two full weeks to earn the right to have coffee, let alone leave base.
Yet, I will never forget that first weekend I stepped off base in uniform. Everywhere I went, I received “Thank you for your service” and multiple offers to buy my meals and drinks. I could not understand the honor suddenly being poured upon me simply because of the uniform I wore. I even had the privilege of marching in the largest July 4th parade in America — along with it being my own birthday, I couldn’t hold back a swelling of tears from having two miles of Americans cheer for me and my company.
It’s the strangest thing, to simultaneously experience imprisonment and honor.
As the weeks of ODS rolled by, I searched for meaning behind these polarized moments. The same words I meditated upon at each meal became intrinsically attached to my experiences. Call it indoctrination or not, I slowly began to understand the paradox of imprisonment and honor; the tension between the weights of responsibility and glory.
The Sailor’s Creed:
I am a United States Sailor.
I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America, and I will obey the orders of those appointed over me. I represent the fighting spirit of the Navy and those who have gone before me to defend freedom and democracy around the world.
I proudly serve my country’s Navy combat team with Honor, Courage, and Commitment.
I am committed to excellence and the fair treatment of all.
When I turn my attention away from my constraints and toward the history and principles of the Constitution, a sense of gravity is given to the standards I am being held to. The command to eat stoically in the name of good order and discipline may still seem ridiculous, but the necessity of those defending the Constitution to be blameless in both behavior and appearance becomes plausible. Ultimately, the weight of responsibility arises from something beyond myself: the understanding that I do not represent myself but rather the integrity of a nation. In the military, my identity is more associated to my country than to self. I am constrained because I do not belong to my own.
One day, we had just finished our swim qualifications, and I was walking back to my barracks when I turned a corner and suddenly heard:
“DROP!”
I fearfully dropped to the floor before I even knew who issued the command.
“PUSH!”
Terrifically I found myself doing non-stop push ups.
“YOU WILL REMEMBER THAT EVERYTHING YOU DO REPRESENTS THE NAVAL OFFICER.”
Chief leaned over me as he yelled that I had been carrying my swim towel improperly, and proceeded with a lecture and demonstration of how to fold a towel correctly.
Although a part of me still resists these comical moments of discipline, I remind myself that the impeccable order I am called to display reflect a military heritage much greater than myself. And so I commit to excellence. As a Christian, this realization brings deeper conviction to what it means to conduct myself worthy of the gospel (Phillippians 1:27). The same weight of responsibility of being a country’s ambassador reflects the fundamental Christian belief that we live no longer for ourselves, but for the Holy One who bought us with Himself and now calls us to live in soberminded remembrance. My code of conduct bears the weight of the cross that redeemed me. I do not belong to my own, but to Christ. Even as he himself was imprisoned in Rome, the ambassador in chains, apostle Paul, exhorted his fellow believers to “walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called” (Ephesians 4:1).
Hand in hand with a soldier’s weight of responsibility is his weight of glory. Although I have not yet done anything for my country, nor have I fought on any battlefield, in my uniform I now receive the same respect and honor as those who laid down their lives for this country. The same higher ideals of freedom and democracy that demanded my responsibility now usher in my honor and glory. This is the same paradoxical honor we receive in the gospel. Despite our brokenness and fleshly weaknesses, the moment we believe in Christ’s death and resurrection, we put on a new glorified self seated at the right hand of God. This spiritual honor comes not from ourselves but from the indwelling of Christ. And as undeserving as I feel of the military honors poured upon me, I am that much more undeserving of Christ’s gift of heavenly citizenship. What a glorious truth.
Now, as I begin my military career, I will continue to ask and remind myself: “from whom comes my sense of responsibility and honor?” The answer must come from beyond my self. When I continue to place God (and country) over self as my answer, I will willingly embrace both imprisonment and honor.
“You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body” 1 Corinthians 6:19-20
Disclaimer: these views do not reflect those of the US Navy :)
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