Chaplain Dale Goetz: A Memorial

Thursday, September 09, 2010
Denver, Colorado

Driving south along Interstate 25 this morning, I noticed that the flags were flying at half mast. When I arrived at Ft. Carson, I found out why. The governor of Colorado had ordered them to be lowered in honor of slain chaplain Dale A. Goetz.

In fact, the Governor himself attended the funeral. So did the Chief of Chaplains of the United States Army. So did several general officers and a throng of men and women in uniform.

The chapel could not accommodate the crowd that came to pay their respects to Chaplain Goetz. When seating ran out, people began to stand along the walls. One entire wall was occupied by soldiers in their ACUs. The opposite wall was lined with Air Force officers and NCOs—mainly chaplains—in their service dress uniforms. Throughout the chapel sat officers (and at least one sergeant major) who had donned the impressive new Army ASU blues.

Dale’s fellow chaplains offered poignant memorials. They spoke of soldiers whose marriages and even lives had been saved by Dale’s intervention. They also recalled Dale’s desire to see three hundred conversions resulting from his tour in Afghanistan, and his desire to see ten men called to ministry.

These chaplains also made it clear that Dale’s mission extended beyond the troops. Dale wanted to see Muslims come to Christ. He prayed for them, sometimes by name. Dale practiced the difficult discipline of loving his enemies, even praying for the salvation of Osama Bin Laden.

The funeral sermon was delivered by Pastor Craig Scott. Rather than focusing on Dale’s death, Pastor Scott talked about Dale’s God and Dale’s yearning to share the gospel. He presented the gospel in clear terms and urged those present to trust Christ as Savior.

It is easy to remember Dale’s kindnesses. Shortly after I moved to Central Seminary, my wife and I purchased a HUD home. It needed lots of work and lots of paint. Dale was working at a hardware store in those days, and he suggested that he might be able to get his boss to donate a few of the many gallons of mistinted paint that the store was trying to sell. When I stopped by to pick up those few gallons, Dale greeted me ruefully. “There’s a problem,” he said. Then he grinned. “You can only have the paint if you agree to take it all!”

We were still using Dale’s paint a decade later. I am literally surrounded by his kindness on nearly every wall of my home.

In ministry, however, and especially in death, Dale became more than just a considerate person. Once he made the decision to enter the chaplaincy, he gave himself to his ministry. He longed to be Christ’s instrument to make a difference in the lives of United States soldiers.

Dale accepted risky duty without murmuring. He served joyfully in Iraq, and after a time in Okinawa he willingly accepted the duty of shepherding troops in Afghanistan. That is hard ministry.

Chaplains tend to meet people at crisis moments. Consequently, they can be tempted to play it safe, to stay inside the wire, and to keep relationships at a shallow and perfunctory level. Not Dale.

As far as Dale was concerned, his life belonged to the Lord Jesus to use or to use up. He knew that he had to earn the right to minister to soldiers by sharing their discomforts and even their risks. Indeed, chaplains endure special risks. They wear the uniform, so they are targets—but they do not bear weapons. They carry only their message.

For a chaplain to die in the line of duty is a very significant event. The chaplaincy represents a form of self-sacrifice that is rarely seen in Western civilization. Every soldier knows that a good chaplain (like Dale!) is doing more than his duty. Every soldier—every airman, sailor, and marine—knows that a good chaplain ministers because he is committed to something greater and higher than the unit and the flag that he serves.

Dale’s commitment to his God made him the kind of chaplain that he became. He went where he did not have to go and took risks that he did not have to take in order to gain the opportunity to share Jesus Christ with souls who would not otherwise hear the way of salvation. He did all of this knowing that he could never defend his own life. By dying as he did, Dale Goetz has gained his place in the noble company of the martyrs.

Other godly chaplains—some of them alumni of Central Seminary—are still serving Jesus Christ in the armed forces of the United States. They are taking upon themselves the same risks that Dale embraced. These men serve with honor, though often with little recognition. Perhaps the death of Chaplain Goetz will remind us that military chaplains need our prayers just as much as the pastors and missionaries for whom we intercede regularly.

Young men who have been called to ministry might consider whether God would have them to serve in military chaplaincy. Chaplaincy is not for everyone, but it is a vital (if often overlooked) role. Sure, it requires sacrifice. What ministry does not? The spiritual needs of the military community, however, are enormous. We need men of God who will take up that challenge.

Looking Upwards in a Storm
William Cowper (1731-1800)

God of my life, to Thee I call,
Afflicted at Thy feet I fall;
When the great water-floods prevail,
Leave not my trembling heart to fail!

Friend of the friendless and the faint,
Where should I lodge my deep complaint,
Where but with Thee, whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor!

Did ever mourner plead with Thee,
And Thou refuse the mourner’s plea?
Does not the word still fix’d remain,
That none shall seek Thy face in vain?

That were a grief I could not bear,
Didst Thou not hear and answer prayer:
But a prayer-hearing, answering God
Supports me under every load.

Fair is the lot that’s cast for me;
I have an Advocate with Thee;
They whom the world caresses most
Have no such privilege to boast.

Poor though I am, despised, forgot,
Yet God, my God, forgets me not:
And he is safe, and must succeed,
For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead.

Dr. Kevin T. Bauder, president of Central Baptist Theological Seminary (Plymouth, MN). Not every professor, student, or alumnus of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.