But God …. A New Commanding Officer

“But you are not willing to come to Me that you may have life.” — John 5:40

A few months ago, I met a man named Keith.

Keith leads a gathering called But God, where men—young and old—come together on a beautiful hill overlooking San Diego. It’s a morning of breakfast, worship, and stories. Real stories. Stories of struggle, redemption, and the quiet, powerful ways God meets us right where we are.

Keith is a Marine. A drill sergeant. A leader of men.

One morning, he shared a story about a young drill instructor under his command named Michael.

Michael was strong, capable, and intense. His identity was rooted in his authority, his position, and his performance. But that intensity often crossed the line. No matter how much Keith tried to guide him, correct him, or lead him, nothing seemed to change. It was getting to the point where Michael was going to be removed from his position. Keith had done everything he could do.

And it still wasn’t enough.

Michael had reached the end of himself.

Like so many of us, he was trying to hold it all together in his own strength. But inwardly, he was empty. And deep down, whether he could articulate it or not, he was living out the reality of Jesus’ words—not willing to come… that he might have life.

Then everything changed.

Michael came to the Father.

He realized he couldn’t fix himself. He couldn’t perform his way into peace. He couldn’t control his way into becoming who he was meant to be. He needed forgiveness. He needed surrender. He needed Jesus.

And in that moment, something deeper than behavior shifted.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you…” — Ezekiel 36:26

God didn’t just adjust Michael’s actions—He transformed his heart.

And because of that…

“If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.” — 2 Corinthians 5:17

Michael didn’t receive a second chance to try harder.

He received a new life.

He went to his wife and told her what had happened. She looked at him and said something simple but profound:
“You need to go to Keith. You need to ask for forgiveness.”

So he did.

Keith, seeing something real had changed, went to his commanding officer. That officer was also a believer. And in a chain of grace that only God could orchestrate, the decision was made to give Michael a 90-day probationary period.

A second chance.

Not because of performance—but because of transformation.

Because of surrender.

The career that was about to end… continued.

But the greater miracle came years later.

Keith and Michael went their separate ways. Life moved on. No contact. No updates.

But God…

Years later, Michael was invited to a gathering on a hill in San Marcos—a gathering of men sharing stories of what God had done in their lives.

As he stepped out of his car and began walking toward the group, he heard a voice.

After 20 years, Michael was reunited with his sergeant major.

The same man who once tried to correct him… now embraced him as a brother.

And the message was simple:

God sees you.
God loves you.
God is for you.
And so am I.

Two men—once defined by rank, authority, and performance—now united under a new Commanding Officer: Jesus Christ.

Not long after, I had the privilege of joining Keith and Michael as we drove out to visit Bob, a 94-year-old Marine living out in Crest, California. A man who had served his country. A man who had lived a full life.

And these two men—hardened by training, refined by experience, and softened by grace—came not as drill instructors, but as brothers.

They came to love on Bob.
To sit with him.
To remind him that when his time comes to report in… he will stand before the ultimate Commanding Officer.

Jesus.

And the question won’t be about rank, performance, or past mistakes.

It will be about life.

Real life.

The life that is only found in Him.

Father, thank You for Keith.
Thank You for Michael.
Thank You for Bob.

Thank You that You pursue us—even when we are unwilling.
Thank You that You don’t leave us where we are.
And thank You that in You, we don’t just get a second chance… we receive new life.

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Charlie & the pink chair ~ part 2