During my deployment to Iraq, I had the privilege of serving alongside another Army chaplain, Dale Goetz. Dale was a no-nonsense kind of guy. He didn't need a lot of words to communicate what he believed, and he certainly wasn't interested in making ministry more complicated than it needed to be. He cared deeply about soldiers. His concern for the troops was genuine, and his life reflected the heart of a servant.
Dale understood something about ministry that is easy to forget, especially in the demands of military life: chaplaincy is not about a position, a title, or a professional identity. It is about people. It is about being present when soldiers are hurting, listening when they need someone to hear them, offering hope when circumstances seem hopeless, and pointing people toward something greater than themselves.
After our deployment, Dale gave his fellow unit chaplains a copy of John Piper's book Brothers, We Are Not Professionals. I have never forgotten that gesture. In many ways, that book captured how Dale understood ministry. He wasn't interested in treating chaplaincy as simply another military profession. He saw it as a calling—a sacred responsibility to serve God by serving soldiers.
Piper's message resonated with me because it seemed to put words to what I had witnessed in Dale. We can become so consumed with the responsibilities, expectations, administrative requirements, and professional demands of ministry that we lose sight of why we entered it in the first place. We can become proficient at doing ministry while losing the heart of ministry.
Dale reminded me that the calling of a chaplain is much deeper than fulfilling the requirements of a job description. It is about having a servant's heart. It is about caring for the soldier in front of you, regardless of rank, background, religious affiliation, or personal circumstances. It is about being willing to enter the difficult places where life and death, faith and doubt, courage and fear intersect.
I would later come to understand the significance of Dale's example in an even more painful way.
Dale was killed while serving in Afghanistan. His death was a devastating loss, not only for his family and friends but also for those of us who had served alongside him. He is the first Army chaplain killed in action since 1970, during the Vietnam War.
It is difficult to reconcile the loss of someone whose life was so committed to caring for others. Chaplains are supposed to be there for the soldiers. They walk alongside them through danger, uncertainty, and loss. Dale did exactly that. His commitment to those he served ultimately placed him in harm's way.
When I think about Dale, I don't primarily remember his death. I remember the man who cared about soldiers. I remember his straightforward approach to ministry. I remember the book he gave us and the message it carried. And I remember a fellow chaplain who understood that serving God was never about building a professional reputation. It was about faithfully answering a calling.
His life challenges me to ask some important questions about my own ministry.
Have I become more concerned with doing the work of ministry than with loving the people God has placed in my path? Have I allowed the demands of the profession to overshadow the sacredness of the calling? Am I willing to be present with people in their most difficult moments, even when there is no recognition, reward, or easy answer?
Dale's example reminds me that ministry is not something we simply do. It is something we give ourselves to.
We are not merely professionals wearing a uniform, carrying credentials, or fulfilling responsibilities. We are servants entrusted with the care of people who need compassion, hope, encouragement, and sometimes simply someone willing to stand beside them.
I am grateful that I had the opportunity to serve alongside Dale Goetz. I am grateful for his example, for his friendship, and for the reminder he left with us through a simple gift of a book.
Brothers, we are not professionals. We are servants. And sometimes the greatest testimony to our calling is not what we accomplish, but how faithfully we love and serve the people entrusted to our care.
Dale lived that kind of ministry. I hope I never forget it.