Rise up

While in Afghanistan, I had the privilege to escort the bodies of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice. On one mission, we went to Bagram Air Base in northern Afghanistan to pick up three soldiers who were killed in action. Upon arrival, we learned that we would be transporting two Americans and one Polish soldier. There were few Polish soldiers, but they were known for dedication and utmost skill and to lose one of their own was VERY uncommon. This young man who died served with his brother in the same unit.

As we prepared the aircraft for departure, we heard the sky fill with helicopters. Within minutes, over a dozen HH-60 Blackhawks descended on our little bit of cement, and the soldiers piled out to pay their final respects. In the end, there were more than 100 soldiers on the tarmac to honor their own. I still can hear the song from the brass band that played as they escorted the remains onto the aircraft. The Polish brother walked in front of the procession, carrying a picture of his fallen brother. This somber memorial reminded us all of our vulnerability. Everyone’s emotions were very raw and real; there were no dry eyes among us.

After the ceremony, my job started. I confirmed paperwork, remains, and the escort who would be taking the body to its destination. During this process, I noticed coins on top of the caskets. As soldiers passed to pay their respects, they placed different unit coins as tokens of gratitude. The fallen Polish solider received dozens of coins. Obviously, he was loved and missed.

We took the remains to Kandahar, where their homeward path split between the United States and Poland. I returned to my base and crawled into my bed but was unable to sleep. My mind was filled with the sights and smells of the last several hours. I began to feel a sense of sadness, doom, isolation, and loneliness. The despair consumed me over the next few days as I struggled to do my job. I relived that day over and over. I sought out the base chaplain and went to church when I could, but I could not seem to break out of the funk I found myself in.

I began to pray fervently, but it seemed to drive me deeper in some way. I couldn’t talk to my family; how would they understand? I knew my path was not sustainable as I threw myself into my work. I volunteered for more missions and flew all over Afghanistan, but I could not escape my troublesome thoughts and feelings. It was a crazy circle that felt like a drill, spinning me down deeper and deeper into the hole of depression and sadness.

While I never contemplated suicide, I could understand the impulse and the desire for escape in my darkest moments. I remember going on one particularly risky mission. It was dark as we bounced around in the Humvee with our armor, night vision goggles, and loaded weapons. We retrieved our patient and made it to the blacked-out plane on a blacked-out runway and took off. We landed safely, and I felt spent. I was done. I had endured a level of stress that I could not maintain and survive.

I passed out in my bunk and dreamed that I had died, that I was free from all the darkness and stress. I felt better. Then I was jarred awake from my dream with another call to pick up a wounded soldier. I now pondered the joy and happiness I had felt during that dream and wondered where it had come from, and then it hit me.

In the New Testament, Christ raised Lazarus from the dead. KJV John 11: 43 reads, “And when he thus had spoke, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth.” And Lazarus stumbled out of the tomb, wrapped in the dressings of the dead, very much alive.

I applied that scripture to myself and heard the Lord say to me in my dream, “John, come forth.” He was calling me out of my darkness and depression and wanted me to follow him out of this dark tunnel. I took the first step with a feeling of hope and light that I had not felt for weeks. It was not all easy after that and it still took work, support from a loving wife and family, and my Air Force brothers and sisters. But I felt the Lord call me out of my grave.

If the Lord can call Lazarus from the grave, then he can meet us where we are and bring us out of our current state to one where we are alive in Christ, with his light and love.

If you or a loved one is contemplating suicide or suffering in darkness, help is out there. Call 1-800-273-8255 for a trained crisis counselor anytime.

Dr. John Boston is a father, husband, grandfather, local physician, member of the Mat-Su Board of Trustees, and Colonel in the Alaska Air National Guard. He believes in Christ and is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.