Cling to Christ Alone

This is a story about idolatry.

It begins in 2020. The pandemic was throwing the world into a panic. Government was getting so far into people’s business that it was forcing them to lose jobs, inject new vaccines, wear masks, not leave their homes, not worship, not sing or eat with one another. You were there, so I’m sure you know.

Our state’s governor got so into people’s business that he didn’t give up his emergency powers until nearly three years later. When he outlawed singing in church, I got fiery and lobbied my church leaders to disobey his unconstitutional mandates. Meanwhile, citizens mobbed and assaulted each other in the streets of Kenosha, Seattle, Portland, and major cities across the country. People were killed. Citizens then stormed the U.S. Capitol building on January 6, 2021. More people were killed. Next, the U.S. botched its August 2021 military withdrawal from Afghanistan, leaving allies and equipment behind. Sharia law reigns there again, women are losing basic freedoms, and more people are dying.

During the height of these events, my husband was deployed on a tour with the Navy that would turn out to be difficult, then harrowing, and then nightmarish. While I watched American freedoms erode and civil unrest, I kept wondering, “Why are we doing this? Why are we making these insane sacrifices as an active duty family if American freedoms are falling apart at home?”

That question would come to a head in 2022, when my husband finally got fed up, too, with the Navy’s “shenanigans.” The most chill guy I’ve ever met put up a boundary and said, “No. I refuse to do this for eight more years. I’m not going to be a part of this any longer.”

I felt the same way, only stronger and with more profanity. What can I say? Protective is my middle name. Every time he would come home with some story about whatever newly ridiculous things that happened at work, I’d snarl while he shrugged it off. I couldn’t believe he finally got tired of shrugging it off.

So off to civilian life we go. As I write, we’re deep in the throes of house hunting in a new city. My husband landed a great job in a different industry. And we’re all so danged excited to see each other more and control our own destiny for a change.

Except we never did and never will control our own destinies. Free will? Choice? Yes, our family will have more of those, I hope. But what I’ve realized over the saga of the past couple of years is just how much is overwhelmingly out of my control: pandemics, government mandates, illnesses in the family, civil unrest, international human rights.

Being a military spouse has been an identity for me for almost thirteen years. I realize now it’s also been a false god. I believed in the mission and was willing to sacrifice deeply to support it from the shore. I trusted the institutions. I believed in them. That is, until I found out that the military doesn’t have the backs of its service members. It doesn’t keep its promises. And when it’s in the best interests of the military to betray its servicemembers, it will. Loudly. Publicly. Most Americans don’t believe this, but folks who’ve been around the block a few times have had the scales fall from their eyes, like they did from mine over the past few years. Salty veterans and their spouses know that the military will hang any adverse event around the necks of its own people, long before indicting the systems that caused the failure, or the leadership who believe that the underlings in uniform can work miracles.

“Put not your trust in princes” (Ps. 146:3).

I shouldn’t have been shocked, but I was. But then, it was like God took me by the shoulders, and bent down face-to-face to gently say, “Hey. I am the one who keeps my promises. I am the only one who is faithful. Not institutions. Not government. Don’t trust in yourself. Don’t trust in them. Trust in me. I am your God.”

Some folks have been taken aback that a guy who is the family breadwinner with five kids would give up the reliable paycheck the military offers, the health insurance, the retirement. What I want to tell our active-duty friends, is that the fallacy of sunk costs might apply to you, too. Get debt free, invest on your own, and stop trusting the government to take care of you. But that’s just another version of trusting in self. Do those things, because God asks us to be good stewards. But don’t cling to yourself; cling to Christ.

The reality is not the same as the story that fear tells us. If you free-fall, God will catch you. When we pray, “Give us this day our daily bread,” he’ll ring your doorbell, feast in hand.

Whatever form our idolatry takes—and, make no mistake, we are all idolatrous—when we’re covered in pig slime and shamefacedly return to our Father’s house, he embarrassingly and gloriously sprints toward us to welcome us home.

He will always do that. Ours is a god whose love for us is reckless and BIG. But he is also a jealous god, who wants us to trust in him alone. “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will act” (Ps. 37:5).

Rhiannon Kutzer is a homeschooling mom of five and proud Navy wife. She works hard to be what Chesterton called a “Jill-of-all-trades,” chronically trying new projects for the sheer joy of exploration. She’s addicted to coffee, enjoys dark beer, and loves to be in the mountains. You can find her on Instagram @rhikutzer.

Photograph © Josh Eckstein, used with permission