Seth Hopper

Saturday mornings.  Animated heroes flashed and dashed across the screen in the living room.  From the Smurfs to He-Man, the convoluted technological disasters of Johnny Quest to the rock em sockem destruction of GI Joe and the Transformers.  Then in between you had the commercials.  All of them catered towards catching the eye and the undying interest of young children.  The Kool-Aid man, smashing through a wall, “Oh Yeah!”  Everyone wanted to drink the Kool-Aid. It was so delicious, sugary, fantastic, the best thing EVER!

Or was it? 

If you have the misfortune of mixing up a packet of Kool-Aid now, and taking even a small sip of it, you can’t help but wonder how on earth you thought this vile liquid was good.  It’s disgustingly flavored diabetes and tooth-rot in a paper packet.  There’s a reason why the saying Drink the Kool-Aid caught on in popular culture. 

From the day you walk into the recruiters office, to the day you step on those yellow footprints for the first and last time, you’re being force fed proverbial Kool-Aid through a firehose.  Marine Corps traditions, both good, bad, and indifferent (yes I said indifferent.  If I can put my hands in my pockets when it’s cold in the field, what is the disaster I’m going to cause doing it in garrison?  Are we really a less effective fighting force if seen wearing beanies past sunup?)

Some of us drank all the Kool-Aid.  Some of us drank some, some drank some more than others.  I would like to meet and refute the individual who claims they got out Scot free, having drunk no Kool-Aid whatsoever.  I would counter by stating they had replaced most of the Kool-Aid with alcohol, and therefore couldn’t remember the Kool-Aid they did drink.

I admit to having drunk a certain amount of Kool-Aid, along with most others.  To survive and be effective, you have to imbibe in the culture and traditions to at least a certain extent.  Up to where common sense begins to leave, then it’s time to find a new drink, and probably drinking partners.

I never worried about having a mission, or sense of purpose while I was in the Marines.  Whether it was the mission itself, or the care and development of the junior Marines around me, I always had my purpose.  I was secure in my identity as a Marine, then a Marine NCO, then finally a Marine SNCO.  I knew my limits.  I knew when I could push them, and I knew when I crossed the line.  It didn’t matter in the long run.  I was secure in the knowledge that despite the ass chewing I was about to receive, I could justify it to myself and to them eventually, whether they agreed with it or not. 

Identity.  It’s a funny thing.  It’s an easy thing to find your identity when it’s being poured down your gullet, like being waterboarded by the Kool-Aid man.  So why is it so hard to find my identity now that I’m no longer in the Marines?  Why is my identity so easily tied to the camaraderie and service, and so much more difficult to find as a Christian, as a Husband, and as a Father? 

It’s laid out for us…the “Kool-Aid” is there, or rather, the water of salvation (Isaiah 12:3) “With joy you will draw water from the springs of salvation,”.  That really seems a whole lot better than drinking Kool-Aid.  So why is it so much more difficult for me personally to accept and drink it?  Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve forgotten where my true identity lies.  And that’s in Christ.  (1 Peter2:9) “But you are A CHOSEN RACE, a royal PRIESTHOOD, A HOLY NATION, A PEOPLE FOR GOD’S OWN POSSESSION, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light;”. 

(Philippians 3:20) “For our citizenship is in heaven, from which also we eagerly wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ;”. 

It’s clearly laid out for us; for me.  I just need to stop and listen.  It’s harder to sit and listen to the quiet voice in the darkness, calling me, than it is to just wait for the thunderous volume of the earthly distractions to force me into drinking the Kool-Aid of the flesh.  This is why the Church (capital C) is so critical.  It’s not only the fellowship, but the accountability. 

I know I’ve been bad about it, and need to get back to it.  I get that some reading this would disagree with the brick and mortar institutions, but for those of us fortunate enough to have found one that holds true to the Gospel and the desire of Christ for his Church, we, and by we, I mean I, owe it to the Church to reintegrate and support, as well as be supported and held accountable for my beliefs, actions and needs. 

Seth is a former Marine Staff Sergeant who was medically separated after 14 years. Often referred to as “Eeyore” due to his naturally dour expression, monotone voice and often gloomy sounding outlook on things. He writes when he has time, and breaks the stereotypes as a Korean born Asian-American who dips, drives diesel trucks, hunts, and used to ride bulls in his younger and skinnier days.