One part of the distinction between Navy SEALs and other branches of the Special Operations community is surf torture. Torture? That’s what every prospective SEAL calls it. It all stems from the theory that a SEAL must be intimately familiar with the water. During the initial phase of Navy SEAL training (BUD/S training), the student is wet and sandy for most of the six months. Even sessions in the classroom often include a trip or two to the surf zone. The instructors call it "cold water conditioning," but the ones in the water call it, "torture". Basically the entire class must wade into the surf zone to their waste line, then sit down with arms linked. This is no vacation at the beach. The water in the San Diego Bay never gets above 68 during summer months and 58 during winter. Soon the insipid cold sucks all of the warmth from the student’s body, and the whole class shivers in unison as the waves crash over their heads. The idea is, submersion to the brink of hypothermia, then to pull the frozen men out for some calisthenics to warm up - then back into the swirling wash for some more “conditioning.” These "torture sessions" last for about an hour. Bad weather or not, SEAL candidates sit, freezing to the core. During storms or high winds the pounding waves are so powerful, they bowl the entire class over, leaving just enough time to gasp one breath of air before being slammed by the next salty wave (information taken from www.navyseals.com).

But what does this have to do with military skill, training, or ability? The young men who make it to BUD/S training have already had to prove themselves over and over again. Aren’t they already “tough enough?” Haven’t they already displayed the strength, both mental and physical, to be trusted with real training? When you first think about surf torture, it seems kind of… “high school,” doesn’t it?

Of course, the professional SEALs training some of our most highly skilled and implicitly trusted warriors have better things to do than just torment their pupils. There is a purpose behind surf torture. It has been shown to be a very effective way to teach a prospective SEAL to mentally fend off the effects of hypothermia – a skill that will likely save his life someday. Have you ever felt like you’ve been put through some sort of “torture?” Something that, on the surface, had no relevance to your future and your direction? Have you found yourself asking, “What is going on?” or “Why is this happening?” Well, I’m no expert on any of the topics I write about. But I don’t think God requires us to be experts; I think He does require us to pass on whatever little bits we have learned, though.

In SEAL training, it’s not the enemy that brings such enormous pressure to bear upon the trainee; it is the instructor. They aren’t being punished for some mistake. They haven’t wandered from the path; the torture is the path. We cannot forget that it is the Lord who tests and refines our faith, not our enemy. We’ve all faced a measure of “torture,” I’m sure. I’m also sure that much of it may have been intended for your destruction and may have its source with your enemy – but where is God? Why does He allow it? If He has plans to bless you and benefit you, why is He allowing you to suffer so deeply? Are these honest questions? Have you been there yet?

I’ve written previous articles about my thoughts on Redemption. I think the testing of our faith depends heavily upon God the Redeemer. He can take the things that were meant for our destruction and use them to turn us into such a capable and durable servant of His purpose. Those experienced SEAL instructors know what they’re doing. They’ve likely had to put those skills to real-world use, and now their students are reaping the benefits of those costly lessons. Take courage in the fact that God knows what He’s doing with you.

I think that our “torture” has much to do with what Paul describes in Philippians chapter 3. Verse 10 says that part of the process in refining and shaping us is to learn, “fellowship with His suffering.” It’s like the Lord is asking us during those times of suffering, “Are you willing to see what I see? Are you willing to know what I know? Can I trust you to bear fruit and be a source of help to deeply hurt people?” That’s the essence of Christian service – being useful to the One who enlisted you. This topic is best served with dialogue, not monologue. Post a comment if you can!

Peace.
SJB