They often give you one when you check into some sprawling motel complex, or a big theme park, or a large convention facility. It's a map of the place. And for the directionally challenged like me, there's one important thing I look for on that map. It's that "X" and those very helpful words, "You are here". See, you're not helping me very much by just giving me a drawing of where everything is. In order for me to use that to get where I want to go, I need that one fundamental piece of information-where am I right now?
Today's children have barely even heard of the disease, but when I was a kid, it was every parent's greatest fear for their child - that crippling, sometimes deadly disease called polio. I can distinctly remember how my mother didn't even want me to be in big crowds because of how polio seemed to spread so quickly. But then along came the vaccine. We all got our shots and we were immune to polio. Since then, there are a lot more shots like that for everything from smallpox, to tetanus, to the flu. And they all work basically on the same principle; in essence, you get a little of the virus injected into your system so that your body will build up an immunity to what could otherwise cripple you or kill you. That kind of immunization can save your life. But, on the other hand, immunization can be really dangerous spiritually…even deadly.
It was exciting that first time I landed at LaGuardia Airport in New York City. There's the skyline of Manhattan out the window, and water all around us as the plane touched down on the runway. It was only after I had landed that my host in New York told me how they built LaGuardia Airport. He said, "Oh, they built it on the garbage of New York." Landfill in the bay created a base on which an airport could be built. By the way, on which my airplane just landed.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was not only the creator of Sherlock Holmes, but apparently he was a creative practical joker, too. The story is told of one horrendous - although clever - practical joke that he played one time. He just wrote a short, unsigned telegram - all in fun - to 12 of the best known men in England. The anonymous message was the same; only six words - six scary words: "All is discovered. Flee at once." You want to guess what happened? As the story goes, within 24 hours not one of those men could be found.
During an opportunity I had to work with my son on some Native American youth outreaches, one of our attractions that night was various basketball competitions. Alex was one of those who showed up to compete in the 3-point shooting contest. Alex is probably about 12, and he appears to have Down's Syndrome. But he doesn't let any Special Ed limitations slow him down. Alex plunges right into things. It's neat to watch. Now, his shooting didn't win any prizes, but his attitude sure would have. In fact, later in the evening, I saw this very special scene at the far end of the gym. Our son, Brad, who is a moose, was holding Alex in his arms and letting him shoot baskets from that improved altitude. Alex was loving it. But the best part came a few minutes later. I glanced down the gym floor and I saw a similar scene – except this time it was Alex lifting up a boy smaller than he was so that little guy could shoot some baskets! Wow!
My wife, Karen, was waking up to a sound she hadn't heard before and she couldn't identify. It sounded like crinkling cellophane, and it was coming from inside our bedroom walls! Now, somehow I missed this little symphony, but Karen sure picked up on it. Since we were pretty sure no one was actually crinkling cellophane in our walls, we looked into other possibilities. Like carpenter ants, for example. And sure enough, that's what it was! Those little marauders were feasting on the wood in our house, and they were gradually eating our home! We didn't even have to think about what to do. "Hello, Mr. Exterminator?"
I was traveling to South Africa, and I had this 18-hour flight layover in Rome, and I wanted to see as much of it as I could. A friend of mine picked me up at the airport and we began this whirlwind day by taking me to the Coliseum. As we left, we were surrounded by five or six gypsy children who started talking all at once. My friend actually told me to hang onto my stuff, which I desperately tried to do. I had my wallet in my front pants pocket as a precaution, my passport in my sport jacket, a camera bag, and an umbrella because it was raining. Those kids were good at what they did. They did everything to distract us as they tried to grab something of value. Well, my friend fended them off using his umbrella like a sword, and then we breathed a sigh of relief as we checked to see if we had everything. We had just rounded a corner when I saw this little gypsy girl - maybe five years old or so - running over the hill toward us. She was waving something blue in her hand. It was my passport. Unbeknownst to me, the kids had gotten my passport, and unbeknownst to them, this little girl had brought it back to me. It was a little miracle actually, and it was a good thing. I wasn't about to get into South Africa without my passport!
Not long ago I got to take one of my favorite East Coast walks. You know, growing up in Illinois, I didn't know much about the ocean. So when we moved to New Jersey, I quickly developed a pretty deep love for the ocean. So it's no surprise that Ocean City is one of my favorite places to go, right? And I love to walk out on the long, rock jetties that reach out into the sea from the beach. I really love it at high tide when the surf's crashing in around those rocks. When you see some of those monster waves surging toward those rocks, it looks like there's going to be a classic confrontation between the irresistible force (the ocean) and the immovable object (the rocks). Well, I'll tell you, the ocean sure overwhelms everything else in its way. But every time those rocks I stand on meet the mighty power of the sea, the winner is always the same. The wave is shattered. The rock remains.
Ronald Reagan led one of the most extraordinary lives of the 20th Century-a life which he sadly and progressively forgot in the last years of his life. His long battle with Alzheimer's Disease acted like a cruel eraser. It removed recollections of what he had done and even who he was. After Ronald Reagan's death, we learned a lot more about what happened during his long journey into darkness. Memory of his years in Hollywood just disappeared, and then he couldn't remember being Governor of California, and ultimately he lost all that had happened in his years as being President of the United States. But one memory stayed alive almost until the end. In the office that Nancy Reagan set up for him, there was a picture on the wall; it was a picture of the Rock River in Illinois. When visitors would ask him about it, after most of his life was there no more, he would brighten and he'd say, "Oh, that's where I was a lifeguard when I was 17. That's where I saved 77 lives!"
During one summer with our "On Eagles' Wings" Native American outreach team, we had some 5,000 miles to cover in about five weeks. In order to make it to all the reservations to which we had accepted invitations, we needed a comfortable bus. And God wonderfully provided that through some brothers in Christ. Now our bus driver, Josh, really knew his way across the West, and my wife Karen really didn't. It was often her job to drive another vehicle that we needed. That meant traveling many unfamiliar miles, but she found a way to simplify the process. She just kept her eyes on that bus. If Josh turned, she turned. If Josh stopped, she stopped. She made sure she could even recognize the lights of his bus in case they got separated. Karen said this trip that could have been so difficult and confusing turned out to be pretty relaxed and simple. She didn't try to figure out the route for herself. She had a great trip because one thing governed all her choices-following the man who knew the way.
