It’s taken me a couple of days to process and try to make sense of the situation unfolding in Afghanistan. I hope you’ll give me the space to “think out loud” for a few moments.

I could write about politics and unload on this Administration. Not so much that we’re getting out of Afghanistan, but how we went about it. It’s a travesty on multiple levels, but I try to avoid divisive politics on social media. Few minds are ever changed. Vote your conscience.

I could write about national strategy as it relates to Afghanistan. I’ve studied national strategy and warfighting at one of our nation’s most prestigious schools. Tens of thousands of debates have occurred, and papers have been written, on our interests in Afghanistan. Do we stay and keep fighting for a third decade? Do we get out completely? Do we leave a smaller contingency force behind to gather intelligence and put out fires? How do we balance humanitarian interests and nation-building with the loss of American lives? Queue the endless debates. 

I could write about one of the fundamental principles of leadership: owning a mistake, learning from it, and committing to do better. Blaming others doesn’t instill confidence. I wish there was more personal accountability and less political posturing in government. I can’t fix that. I can only own my own mistakes.

Instead, I want to share with you how this hit me personally. My youngest son, sensing all may not be well between my ears, checked on me late last night. I told him it had been a surprisingly difficult day emotionally. I’m dealing with anger, frustration, and sadness. I can only imagine what those who lost friends and loved ones in Afghanistan, or served multiple tours there, are dealing with. I can only imagine the suffering on the ground there—our Allies being rounded up, young girls being plucked from their homes, etc. 

Through all those emotions, one question is stuck in my head: Was it worth it? 

I volunteered to spend 6 months at Bagram Air Base in 2007—6 months away from my wife and two young sons—because I wanted to do my part. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to help support the Airmen who were directly killing terrorists. I wanted to make a difference in the lives of the Afghanistan people.

Watching the videos of The Taliban in the presidential palace and walking around Bagram Air Base was shocking. Seeing terrified Afghans scrambling and dropping from an airplane broke my heart. It felt like we were back to square one. It felt like the loss of life and billions of dollars spent over the past two decades were a complete waste. It felt like I would have been better off spending those six months being a present, supportive husband and a dad to my sons.

Those feelings make me highly cynical and jaded. I start thinking… “Because it didn’t last, it shouldn’t have been started. Because it didn’t turn out as we had hoped, it was a wasted effort. The poor, long-term returns prove it was a misguided investment.”

But do they?

This isn’t the first thing in my life that hasn’t, over the long haul, turned out as planned.

As a teacher, youth minister, and mentor, I’ve invested countless hours in some young people who “didn’t turn out as planned,” although God’s not through with them yet. Wasted effort?

As a missionary several years ago, I worked tirelessly alongside others to help plant a church in a third-world country, only to see it fold a few years later. Wasted effort?

As a disaster relief worker, I’ve “mucked” and hung dry wall in many flooded homes, only to see those same homes and communities flooded again in subsequent years. Wasted effort?

As an Airman, I deployed to Afghanistan to help good people and stop bad ones. Yesterday, the bad people won (at least until God settles all accounts). Wasted effort?

As a Christian, I’ve prayed for sick people, including my mom, to get well. God had other plans. Wasted effort?

That kind of thinking will leave one jaded and cynical. You stop trying—stop trying to do good in the world—because your efforts may not work or may not last. Given the lack of a guaranteed, long-term return, we don’t invest.

So, rather than debate politics and national strategy this afternoon, I just want to encourage you to keep doing good.

Invest in teaching and mentoring young people—some lives will be changed.

Share your faith, go on mission trips, plant churches—some will take root and last.

Help disaster victims. If the need arises, help them again.

Deploy to trouble spots or support those who do. Show kindness in the moments God has granted you, be that in a war zone, a school cafeteria, or your home.

Keep praying, even when some prayers seem to go unanswered. The Father knows best. And before bashing our leaders with perhaps well-deserved criticism, take a moment to bow and pray for them.

Like many Americans, I’m profoundly disappointed in what is transpiring in Afghanistan, but I’m not going to become jaded and cynical. 

The truth is, sometimes I let my family and friends down. Sometimes, many times, God has every right to look down on me as a flawed human—a poor long-term investment. 

But God hasn’t given up on me.

And I’m not giving up on this messed up world.