Vol.10 No.5

Grounded
Why was I, an Air Force major and physician, dismissed from military duty
and sentenced to a year of prison in Leavenworth?
By Roger Belcourt

On July 21, 1988, I awoke in the intensive care unit at an Air Force hospital in southern California. After a short period of contemplation, I realized I had overdosed on prescription drugs. How had I, an Air Force major and physician, ended up in this position?

Growing up in Reno, Nevada, I had no desire to be an alcoholic. Because of my parents’ influence—my father was a physician and my mother a nurse—I decided to pursue a career in medicine. I was raised in a nominally religious home, the eldest of four children. During my early years I was plagued with insecurity—the idea of never being good enough.

At fourteen, I experimented with smoking, alcohol, and street drugs. These substances provided fellowship with my peers, and when I used drugs, my insecurities vanished. However, I experienced difficulties with alcohol. I suffered blackouts and had to reconstruct events of the previous evening.

During my early college years, my alcohol and street drug use increased. At twenty-one, I went to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting where I heard them speak of a God who could solve their problems. But, having been raised in the school of science and evolution, I quickly rejected this notion.

In 1978 I was accepted at medical school. As studies progressed, I drank more frequently and ingested larger amounts. During my sophomore year, I was arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol (DUI). Whenever I used any mood-altering substance, I never knew what would happen.

My desire for control over drinking led me to marry a woman who I hoped would curtail my alcohol and drug use. After medical school I began a residency in family practice. The demands of internship and residency held back my alcohol and drug use for a time, but after my internship I received my second DUI arrest. It came on the heels of separation from my wife. Eventually, my marriage ended in divorce.

I knew this second DUI would bring me to the attention of the medical licensing boards, so I entered an alcoholic treatment center for one month. Here, I heard the same talk about God.

Fearful of losing my medical license, I started seeking a relationship with God. This was my initial spiritual experience—running to God because I was alone, frightened, and unsure. However, as I cultivated this relationship, I found a peace that I had never known. A year and a half passed without any drug or alcohol use.

I began to feel some control over my life again. In my second year of residency I met a beautiful obstetrical nurse. Within a short time we were engaged. I was still smoking at the time, and she was  a member of the Seventh-day Adventist Church.

I had no preference for any particular religious belief, but I attended church with her. We married February 3, 1985, and I was baptized at the end of my third year of residency.

The Air Force had paid for my medical education, therefore I was obligated to them for three years and stationed at a southern base. We transferred our church membership to the local Adventist church.

I was a Christian babe who should have been drinking the milk of the gospel, but pride allowed me to accept a position I was spiritually unqualified for and I started “spitting up.”  Insidiously, I stopped having communion with God. Looking good became more important than a spiritual relationship. I began experimenting with prescription drugs, and soon I was back to where I had been before treatment.

One evening  in 1987, my wife found me incoherent when she returned from work. I went through another alcohol treatment center, courtesy of the Air Force.

The next eleven months were miserable. Although I tried to portray that I was in control and doing well, I had exceptional difficulty surrendering myself to God.

I remained in this “white knuckle” condition until July 1988, when I became supervisor of a portable military pharmacy in southern California. Vaguely, I remember taking that “one” Valium tablet which eventually landed me in the intensive care unit, overdosed.

Everything important—my marriage, two-year-old daughter, medical license, Air Force career, and relationship with God—was in jeopardy. In despair, I pulled out a Bible. Providentially, it opened to Psalm 51: “Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions” (verse 1).

This was a balm to my soul. My separation from God had nothing to do with Him, but with me. He beckoned me to return, according to His loving kindness, not my works or goodness. I felt hope. “… a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise” (verse 17). I knew God was with me.

I returned to my Air Force home base where my wife and I began a two-year separation. She had been deceived and hurt badly by my dishonest, manipulative behavior.

I waited to see how the Air Force would deal with me. They proceeded with a court-martial.

The wheels of government turn slowly, and during this time I immersed myself in activities nurturing my spiritual growth.

The court-martial was set for February 1989, two days before my fourth wedding anniversary. After hearing my testimony, the panel returned a three-part verdict: dismissal from the service (equivalent to a dishonorable discharge), forfeiture of all pay and benefits, and a year’s incarceration in the U. S. Disciplinary Barracks at Leavenworth, Kansas.

I had anticipated the first two parts of the sentence, but imprisonment caught me completely by surprise. I became angry at God.

On our fourth wedding anniversary, my wife moved to northern California with our daughter, and I began my prison term. Despair mounted as I contemplated a year in military prison, separated from everything I felt I needed.

The chasm between my wife and me deepened further, and we ceased communicating. She began confronting what she later told me was the first real difficulty she had ever faced in her life. But the experience caused her to grow as a Christian woman and mother.

Four months into my sentence, I finally surrendered my control of our marriage, leaving it in God’s hands. All my energies had been directed toward holding onto things I thought I needed and circumventing God’s will. I was now imprisoned, jobless, and separated from family. Yet, in the depths of my being, I knew I was going to be all right. At last, I had surrendered to God, and now He could help me deal with my addiction.

I experienced the greatest freedom of my life. God’s grace was sufficient. I purposed to become a man of God and a contributing member of my church. Separated or not, I determined to be the best husband and father I could be. At the age of thirty-four, I began to grow up.

In October 1989 I was released from prison. I returned to northern California where my wife lived and we entered counseling together. Eventually, we moved back in together and began attending the same church.  As we studied and ministered to others, our resentment against each other was miraculously removed.

How great is God in doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves! Had we not experienced a separation, during which we grew individually, I’m not sure our marriage would have survived. God placed His loving hand upon our marriage and gently sculpted us back into a relationship. All we did was allow Him to do so.

Notified of my narcotics conviction, the California Medical Board elected to monitor me with counseling three nights per week and frequent drug screenings. But I still didn’t have a job.

A friend arranged an interview for me with a medical group. As the interviewer examined my resume, he noted, “I see you just got out of the Air Force … I was a registered nurse at the military prison in Leavenworth, Kansas.” Shivers ran up my spine. But I forthrightly explained in detail my recent past.

I felt the presence of angels ministering to me in my time of need.

“If we get an opening, we’ll give you a call,” he said.

I thanked him, but he appeared to be saying, Don’t call us, we’ll call you.

The next morning I was awakened by a frantic call from them. They pleaded for me to come work—now! Thus began a successful professional association of several years.

Out of desperate, horrible conditions, God can bring some good.

My wife and I have now been married for nearly thirteen years (with two years off for bad behavior), and I’m the father of a precious eleven-year-old girl. My career is successful beyond my expectations.

Most important, I have the assurance that I am a child of God. After God’s miracles in my life, one would think that my struggles would cease. The Spirit, however, continues to war with the flesh, and the battle is only won by His grace—by laying down self and accepting God’s will.

Early in my life, God called me in a “kind, gentle” manner, but I wouldn’t listen. Then He picked up that “cosmic two-by-four” and gently slapped me in the head. When this failed, He got a bigger piece of lumber, until He found a size that worked.

Except for pain I’ve caused other people, I wouldn’t change a thing.

I now know that God grounded me so that one day I could soar with Him forever.