War has a way of stripping away pretense and exposing what we truly rely on when everything else falls apart. In the mud and blood of battle, a person's deepest convictions come to light. This became strikingly clear when I compared the diaries of two soldiers from different centuries: Adam Tervit, a British regimental evangelist during the Second Boer War, and Colby Buzzell, an American infantryman in the Iraq War. Both young men faced the same horrors—death, destruction, and moral chaos—but their coping mechanisms reveal a profound difference between a life grounded in faith and one shaped by secularism.
Tervit's diaries, published without his knowledge to fund his ministry, overflow with praise and trust in God. Buzzell's blog-turned-memoir, My War: Killing Time in Iraq, is laced with dark humor and cynicism. While both approaches offer some relief, the contrast between them raises a crucial question: What truly sustains us in the darkest hours?
Humor as a Shield
Buzzell's wit is sharp and often hilarious. When ordered to write a "death letter" to his parents, he penned: "Dear Mom and Dad, You're right. I should have gone to college instead. Love, Colby." It's a clever deflection, a way to laugh in the face of mortality. But humor, while valuable, can only go so far. It masks pain but doesn't transform it. As the Book of Proverbs says, "Even in laughter the heart may ache" (Proverbs 14:13, NIV). Buzzell's jokes, entertaining as they are, seem like a thin veneer over a deep well of trauma.
In contrast, Tervit's joy is rooted in something eternal. He writes of singing hymns with fellow soldiers, finding solace in prayer, and seeing God's hand even in tragedy. His coping strategy isn't to deflect but to embrace a larger story—one where suffering has meaning and hope is anchored in Christ's resurrection. The apostle Paul captures this perspective: "We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope" (Romans 5:3–4, ESV).
Enemies and Forgiveness
Both soldiers faced the challenge of dehumanizing the enemy. Buzzell's account is filled with terms that reduce adversaries to targets. This is a natural survival mechanism in combat, but it can also poison the soul. Tervit, however, viewed even his enemies as souls in need of grace. He wrote of praying for Boer soldiers and seeking opportunities to share the gospel with them. This doesn't mean he was naive about the brutality of war; rather, he believed that Christ's command to love one's enemies (Matthew 5:44) applied even on the battlefield.
This radical forgiveness is not a human instinct; it's a supernatural gift. As Jesus taught, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Matthew 5:44, NIV). Tervit's diaries show that this command is not just a lofty ideal but a practical source of peace. By releasing bitterness, he freed himself from the cycle of hatred that so often consumes soldiers.
Meaning in Suffering
Perhaps the most significant difference lies in how each soldier made sense of his suffering. Buzzell's narrative often implies that war is absurd and meaningless—a series of random, tragic events. This worldview, common in secular thought, can lead to despair. If there is no purpose behind the pain, then endurance becomes merely a matter of grit.
Tervit, on the other hand, saw suffering as a tool for refinement and a participation in Christ's own suffering. He wrote, "I thank God for the trials that draw me nearer to Him." This echoes the words of Peter: "These trials have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed" (1 Peter 1:7, NIV). For Tervit, suffering was not meaningless; it was a crucible that forged deeper faith.
Practical Hope for Today
What can we learn from these two soldiers? Whether we face war, illness, or everyday struggles, the resources we rely on matter. Humor and distraction have their place, but they cannot sustain us through the deepest valleys. Only a hope anchored in the risen Christ can transform our suffering into something redemptive.
Consider your own coping mechanisms. When life crumbles, where do you turn? The gospel offers not just a temporary escape but a lasting foundation. As the Psalmist wrote, "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18, ESV). Take a moment to reflect: Is your hope built on shifting sand, or on the rock of Christ?
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