Faith | Feeling the burn? Press on with a heartfelt hallelujah

The red-clay hills around Fort Knox, Kentucky were covered with dogwood and redbud trees in full glorious bloom. But there was no time to appreciate the landscape.

In that moment, my eyes were locked on three drill instructors who were about to introduce my platoon to a rite of passage that would sorely test our mettle.

The DI’s barked orders as we filed into a nondescript concrete building, the air already thick with nerves and Kentucky humidity. We fumbled with our M17 protective masks, sealing them tight as we knew how over our faces, then shuffled into the adjoining chamber, a dimly-lit room that reeked of impending doom.

The DI’s sharp order came through a sudden billowing haze: “Masks off! Recite the alphabet—loud and clear—or you stay!”

As each man ripped off the mask, it was instant regret.

The CS gas, or tear gas, evokes an immediate, visceral assault on the senses and the body. Your eyes burn with an unrelenting fire, tears streaming uncontrollably as if your very soul is weeping. Your throat constricts, choking on the acrid fumes. Every breath feels like inhaling shards of glass. Coughing racks your frame and a primal panic urges escape.

“A ... B ... C ...” I gasped, voice cracking, face flushing deep crimson as if scorched by the sun.

The room spun in a blurry hell—coughs wracking my body, spit flecking the floor. Finally, “Z!” and I bolted for the exit. The DIs (of course) chuckled as they commended our success.

As a young soldier in boot camp, this ordeal and many similar pushed me to grow.

It taught resilience and focus in the fire. It was real—but only training. No bullets. No bombs. No blood. Just young bodies pushed to limits beyond our experience.

To me, it’s an analogy of what everyday people and families face in the spiritual realm. There may not be physical bullets, but it is a battle all the same. It’s not like a war; it IS a war.

It’s a spiritual burn many Christians feel amid today’s chaos: endless wars, crumbling morals, twisted norms, raging disasters, ultra-divisive politics, and a godless fog choking the air.

Have you felt the sting?

Like standing in a room full of tear gas, there’s no quick fix that clears it fully. And it has a way of capturing all of your attention from God’s beauty that is all around you.

Scripture captures this exact tension in Romans 8:19-22 (ESV), where Paul personifies creation itself as enduring a tear-gas-like torment under the curse of sin: “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.”

In these lines of Scripture, the apostle describes the entire cosmos as “groaning together in the pains of childbirth.” We’re not talking about a gentle sigh, here, but a profound wrenching agony—a world in travail amid hostility that can choke the very breath from our lungs.

The spiritual air grows thick and corrosive, evoking tears for the lost and a fierce yearning for escape. Yet, we press on raising our voices in triumphant hallelujah to Jesus, a defiant act of faith that pierces the darkness with a mighty rushing wind of the Holy Spirit!

We are not merely reciting the alphabet; we proclaim that Jesus, the Alpha and Omega, holds sovereign rule over our fractured realm. Evil’s roar will not have the last word.

Join me?

Take in a deep breath of fresh air and let’s sing it together: “Hallelujah!”

Rev. Micah Smith is president and founder of Global Gateway Network (globalgatewaynetwork.org). Questions and comments should be directed to editor Lucy Luginbill in care of the Tri-City Herald newsroom. Email lluginbill@tricityherald.com.