Imagine taking a virtual plane ride today and meeting me in San Francisco for a 30-minute drive south to Moffett Federal Airfield, formerly known as Moffett Navy Air Station.

With my military ID we easily slide past the Smokey-Bear-hatted federal guards. A quarter mile in, we pull curbside and walk across the lawn to the Moffett Chapel, built in the style of the Spanish Colonial missions.

I’m comfortable here because this is where, in 1994, I took my first Air Force active-duty chaplain assignment.

I often make the claim that if I hadn’t become a chaplain, I’d have been a safety officer. That’s because when I’m on any kind of volunteer work project, I’m the guy who steadies the ladder, makes certain the lunch produce is washed correctly and then checks the perimeter for bad guys. The irony is that my interest in this subject comes from the tragedies I’ve witnessed in my chaplain career. In death’s aftermath, I’ve offered comfort to those whose loved ones were accidentally struck, shot, suffocated, burned, poisoned, fallen or electrocuted.

There is no scripture verse in the entire Bible that has given marriages more trouble than Ephesians 5:22. The words come from a seemingly clueless Apostle Paul who says, “Wives submit yourselves to your husbands.”

Have you ever found yourself under fire for saying or writing something you believed to be clearly innocuous? As a public speaker and writer, I can say yes to this a thousand times.
Among my early experiences with public tripping-over-my-own-tongue, I recall my first pastorate in 1985 as a 26-year-old newly minted seminary graduate. I’d just preached a fiery sermon when a woman requested a private word with me in the church office.
Her face was reddened and emotional, so I was sure my sermon had likely brought her to repentant tears. Once inside the study, she began without hesitation.