This was written in a book titled "Beyond Combat" about my Uncle who died when I was a baby. I have heard his story hundreds of times, but this time was different:
Yesterday morning I was sitting at my computer needing wanting to be left alone. Another rough night, sick of having M.S., and NOT wanting Nana to read me one more thing, this is what I heard:
The pulpit and altar were in place; the organ had been dehumidified and was in excellent playing condition; there were pews for the men, built by volunteer labor from “Charlie” Company.
For the occasion I told the story of Mike Coursey’s conversion:
Mike Coursey had been a medic with the 70th Engineers at Fort Campbell. He was endowed with an abundance of personal magnetism and charm. He played a guitar better than the average instrumentalist and kept everyone in his barracks “swinging.” Mike was friendly and generous, always ready with a smile and a dollar for a buddy whose budget had collapsed before payday.
He was built like a halfback, if perhaps a little light, but he made up in spirit what he lacked in brawn. I first met Mike during the fall football season of 1964 soon after joining the 70th Engineer Battalion at Fort Campbell. Each company was forming a touch football team for some friendly competition. Since I had played football in high school and college, I decided to join the games and get acquainted with some of the men.
Being the battalion chaplain, I was assigned to headquarters company and so was Mike Coursey. At practice each afternoon I became well acquainted with him and the other teammates. Mike attended the Sunday chapel services infrequently, but he was always willing to help out any way he could.
Ten days before we were scheduled to leave Fort Campbell, Mike went swimming with some friends in a nearby town. He dived into shallow water and broke his neck, suffering an injury that left him paralyzed permanently from his neck down. My reaction was a stunning shock. What a tragedy! A young man in life’s bloom with such potential! What a shame! But after talking with Mike as he lay motionless in a hospital bed I changed my mind.
The young soldier was from Oklahoma. Before coming into the Army he had been active in his church but in the barracks he lost interest in spiritual matters and began drifting from God. When the doctor broke the news that he would never recover from the accident he was bitter and despondent, but not for long. Soon his heart began to sing. He was actually thankful, he said, for what had happened because his relationship with God was dramatically reestablished.
"You know, Chaplain,” he told-me, “I wouldn’t trade spots with any man in the world!” With tears in his eyes he continued: “The Lord has made Himself more real to me through this accident than I ever believed possib1e. A lot of these guys in here are propositioning God. They’re telling Him that if He’ll heal them they will straighten up and live for Him. But you know what? Whether the Lord raises me up or not, I’m going to tell others about Him and His love if I have to pay someone to push me around in a bed for the rest of my life. Being healed is beside the point. I just want other people to know Him the way He has revealed Himself to me.
I listened, fascinated, as Mike continued:
There are times here at night when it’s quiet and I’m wide awake that I feel like bursting with praise and joy. The presence of Jesus Christ is so real I can hardly contain myself. Don’t pity me, Chaplain. And tell the boys not to feel sorry for me. I wouldn’t trade what God has given me for anything.
The men in adjacent beds listening to Mike that day were deeply moved. So were the men now listening to the story in a Vietnam combat zone who like Mike, were facing death and injury in battle.
On Septernber 19, 1965 we held our first service in our little house of worship. I recounted to a full house the story of Mike Coursey, relating the spectacular experiences of the Apostle Paul in Acts 9 to that of the soldier from Oklahoma. I stressed the point that God uses different means to bring men to Himself and confronted the men with this question:
“What would God have to do to bring you to Himself?”
My groaning & complaining promptly stopped as I tried to hide the tears streaming down my face
