The Chaplain
The Anxious Anabaptist in a World of Absurdity
God help me, I’m just a chaplain.
I came to war hoping to find faith. Instead, I found Catch-22. I pray, but no one answers. I serve, but no one listens. I try to believe in a loving God while bombs fall like rain and men die for forms signed in triplicate. I am haunted, not by ghosts, but by questions. And still, I show up. Still, I try to mean something.
What I'm Into: empty chapels, censored letters, men who don’t sleep, Yossarian’s silence, the sound of engines returning
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