Perspectives on Faith

Chukwuka

Welcome back to The New Sentinel. I'm Chukwuka, and today, the topic is one close to my heart: faith. We've got the whole crew—Major Graves, Olga, and Duke—ready to dig deep. So let’s start at the roots. What does faith really mean? Because where I’m from, Lagos, faith wasn’t just church on Sunday, it was woven into daily life. My late grandmother—God bless her—used to rise at dawn, wash her face, and pray over that old, battered Bible before a pot of tea even hit the fire. For her, faith wasn’t a debate; it was waking up and breathing. But I know, faith’s not the same everywhere. What about here in the U.S., and—Olga, Russia?

Olga Ivanova - Female, Progressive

Thank you, Chukwuka. For me, growing up in Russia, faith was complicated. Decades of official atheism shaped how people relate to religion—many kept it private, hidden even. My grandmother whispered stories from the Orthodox calendar, but her “faith,” in a way, wasn’t just God; it was the endurance of family traditions, surviving despite hardship and repression. In a sense, faith could be just as strong in what you don’t see as in what you practice. I look at my friends today—some are religious, others more secular, even atheist—but that same searching for meaning or hope, it is still there. It just wears a different face in Russia than in Nigeria, or, say, in the United States.

Major Ethan “Sentinel” Graves

Yeah, I see what you both mean. Here in the States, especially down in Texas, faith is a living, breathing thing. For a lotta folks, it's church barbecues, football prayers, and yeah, showing up on Sunday. But if you step back, faith goes beyond religion, right? There’s trust in country, in each other—sometimes, it’s even belief in what we’re doing when the odds look bad. I’ve seen men who don’t set foot in church, but their faith in their brothers, or in the flag, that’s just as real. Funny thing is—sometimes I think faith is whatever gets you outta bed when you got no good reason left.

Duke Johnson

I’ll back that up, Major. Faith ain’t just a Sunday thing for me either. Lotta the guys I served with—they might’ve worn crosses, or dog tags, or even carried the Constitution in their pocket. Sometimes faith’s in the mission, sometimes it's just hopin’ your boots don’t melt clean off in the desert. But it’s there, and it’s gotta come from somewhere, whether you call it God, luck, or just good old American grit. I guess, like—didn’t y’all talk about cultural reinvention on the last episode? I see that in how faith gets re-made here: It’s old traditions packed in new rucksacks, you know?

Chukwuka

Exactly, Duke. I think if we line ‘em all up—my grandmother in Lagos, your folks in Texas, Olga’s people holding onto meaning despite pushback—it’s faith, but it’s flavored different everywhere. And across religions, across cultures, even if you’re an atheist, you’re still pressing on, looking for something to anchor you. I mean, isn’t that what unites us all a bit, that need for something bigger than today’s worries? Anyway, faith, it’s bigger than the surface—there’s always more underneath.

Major Ethan “Sentinel” Graves

That’s a good segue, Chukwuka. Let’s talk about when faith really gets tested—when everything hits the fan. Warzones, hurricanes, blackouts—crisis, basically. I’ll be honest, in Afghanistan, faith came alive for us. We’d be sitting outside the wire, waiting for the go, and it didn’t matter if you were Bible-thumping or just crossing your fingers; everybody joined hands and closed their eyes. Prayed for safe return, prayed we weren’t getting set up. Some guys called it superstition, others called it faith—but it pulled us through. I’m not gonna say it worked like magic, but I can tell you, it helped us face what was coming. That’s real.

Duke Johnson

Yeah, Major, same thing in Iraq. Lost a buddy on a patrol—afterwards, you'd see guys who’d never prayed before suddenly holdin’ onto that chaplain like he was the only solid thing left. Sometimes, all you need’s a damn reason to keep movin’. When we got pinned down in Tikrit, that old battalion chaplain—apt name, Sanctuary, right?—he’d walk foxhole to foxhole, always had a quiet word or a prayer, didn’t care who you were praying to. Kinda reminded me, faith’s got legs; it follows you where the danger is. Keeps you standing tall, mission or no.

Olga Ivanova - Female, Progressive

That is striking, Duke. The same thing happens on the civilian side, just different stakes. I covered national emergencies back home—devastating floods, wildfires. People lost electricity, heat, sometimes everything. You’d see neighbors sharing every last crust of bread, forming massive human chains through floodwaters—all while clutching icons or repeating old prayers under their breath. Some lost faith in the institutions, but clung tighter to each other. It made me realize: faith, in times of crisis, isn’t always theological. It might be faith in community, or just belief that tomorrow might be less cruel. But it’s a lifeline, especially for those most vulnerable—children, elderly, the ones often overlooked.

Chukwuka

That hits home, Olga. I saw this growing up—when there was unrest in Lagos, folks would gather and pray for calm. Didn’t matter if you were Muslim, Christian, whatever. I remember a neighbor, an imam, standing next to my grandmother, both praying for rain when the city had gone dry a week. Faith in crisis—sometimes it’s all you got. And even here, after 9/11 or Katrina, it looked the same: folks holding onto something. Maybe, just maybe, faith is what gets us through when nothing else will.

Olga Ivanova - Female, Progressive

So, then, what happens when faith steps out of private life and shapes public decisions? Should it? We’ve seen lately, in Russia and the U.S., religious leaders at the front of protest lines, politicians pushing through faith-based initiatives. Sometimes it gives people hope, sometimes it feels oppressive, especially to minorities or those with different beliefs. For me, faith is personal—but public policy should protect everyone, not just the majority. I wonder, are we letting personal conviction steer too much national policy?”

Duke Johnson

I’ll bite, Olga. Look, faith shapes who we are—no hidin’ that. I get squirrelly when I see it forced down someone’s throat, but I’m not keen on scrubbin’ it out of public life either. On base, I remember a real blow-up—policy changes that’d limit religious displays. It was getting heated until our chaplain stepped in. Didn’t pick a side; just reminded everyone why we signed up: defend the rights of all, not just our own team. Settled things down real quick. So, yeah, faith belongs, but the rules gotta serve everyone in the ranks.

Major Ethan “Sentinel” Graves

Duke’s got a point. Freedom of religion’s why a lot of our people came here in the first place. But there’s gotta be some border—don’t let personal faith bulldoze everybody else’s freedoms. Some of these policy pushes—kinda like the faith-based initiatives, right?—they get tricky, ‘cause you either risk leaving folks out or end up in a tangle of lawsuits. Like we talked about in the shutdown episode—sometimes decisions that look fair ain’t fair to everybody on the ground. Maybe it’s about balance. You need conviction, but you also need boundaries.

Chukwuka

Major, Duke, Olga—I agree, it’s a tightrope. In Nigeria, religion and politics have always gone hand-in-hand, for better or worse. Leaders use faith to rally unity, but it can tear things apart just as quick. It’s like fire: warms you up, or burns the place down. I’m always wary when somebody says God told them to do something in government—hard to argue with that. Maybe, like we try here at the roundtable, the best policy honors faith without demanding everyone kneel to the same tune. And with that, let’s call it a wrap for today. This was deep—thanks folks, for showing up real, as always.

Olga Ivanova - Female, Progressive

Thank you, Chukwuka. Thanks everyone. This is why I keep showing up; at least here, every story—every kind of faith—gets heard. Until next time, take care of each other.

Major Ethan “Sentinel” Graves

Yep—sendin’ out a salute from Texas. Appreciate the talk. Stay safe. Don’t lose faith, no matter what.

Duke Johnson

Good show, folks. Keep your powder dry, and your faith steady—whatever that means to you. See y’all next round.

Chukwuka

Alright now, thanks again for tuning in. We'll be back with more on The New Sentinel—more tough talks, more laughs. God bless, and goodnight.