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If someone is a champion in sports, we tend to make them an automatic hero. Now, not every champion lives like a hero or necessarily deserves to be one. But Wilma Rudolph? Oh, she was more than a champion. She really belonged in the hero category. See, she began her life with a bout of polio.
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It all started when my Dad helped some people lift a piano. There were not enough men to lift it, but they all thought they could handle it. And the next thing I knew, my Dad ended up in the hospital for a hernia operation, all because of lifting that big piano. He never should have tried to lift that much. You know what? I'm talking to somebody now who is sweating, and straining to lift...oh, not a piano! But it might be something you were never meant to lift.
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We were far from home in Phoenix, Arizona, living in New Jersey, when my wife had a gallbladder crisis. In fact, she was going to have to have her gallbladder removed. Well, I wasn't too happy about that happening so far from home, but God was in it. Because our friend who we were there with at a conference said, "Well, I just had this surgery not long ago, and our doctor here is one of the few in the country (at that time anyway) who is an expert at doing gallbladder surgery with lasers. Really? Well, instead of the six weeks that I thought my wife was going to have to recuperate in Arizona, why she was up and around in a very few days, because of the amazing power of a laser. Think about that. I mean, lasers can penetrate steel. They can help you get better eyesight, or take care of a gallbladder that needs to come out. It's pretty amazing power. Now, diffused light can't do that; only the focused light can do it. If my wife had been under just diffused light all that time, it wouldn't do anything about her gall bladder. But it took the focused light - that powerful energy - to really change things. There's awesome power when you focus the energy on one thing.
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When you work at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, you know there will be no physical link to the outside world for you between February and October. You are 840 miles from the nearest populated site and you're facing average winter temperatures of 80 below zero. Now, imagine being one of the women stationed there and discovering a lump that indicates you may have breast cancer. Distant medical authorities determined that this lady had to receive some emergency medical supplies. (And it really happened.) Getting those supplies though? Well, easier said than done.
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Our local high school team won the state championship in football one year, and the coach gave at least one reason in the newspaper. He said, "We have mastered the two-minute offense. In other words, you have to know how to do the "hurry up" offense and get a lot done in a short time in order to be a championship team, like when there's only two minutes left in the first half or the end of the game.
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I was speaking in Mobile, Alabama when I heard about this amazing phenomenon that occasionally takes place there. It's along the eastern shore of Mobile Bay. They call it Jubilee. It happens on a summer night sometime between midnight and six, and the fish, and the crab, and all the other sea critters suddenly move in very close to the shore. It's like they get so close that many of them are right up on the beach. The locals just walk along and they scoop up the fish and the crab, and they gather as much seafood as they want. Imagine what an opportunity it is for the fishermen! I mean, they can grab anything they want without going out in a boat.
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My friend was an executive at a Bible distribution society, and he told me about one of their workers in Zimbabwe. His name was Gabriel. What a great name for a man distributing Bibles, huh? Their policy was to sell their Bibles for a small price so people would value them. The problem they encountered was that some people were actually using the thin paper of those Bibles to make cigarettes! In fact, one potential customer actually said to Gabriel, "I'll take one of your Bibles, but if I do, I'll smoke it."
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Back when I was flying a great deal, people would often ask me where I lived, and I would frequently answer with the name of the airline I flew on the most. Now, when I hear of airplane crashes and disasters, it kind of hits me personally. I think it does anybody who has been a frequent flyer. Whether you're a flyer or not, though, there are images of certain airline tragedies that kind of forever imprint on your memory. One of those for me was the ValuJet crash in the everglades. It's been a number of years now, but the entire plane and all its passengers just vanished in the swamp.
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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 of 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!"
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Okay, let's do a little word association here, you ready? Persian. Ah...cat? Well, you might have thought of cat. For me, when I hear the word Persian...I think rug. I've never owned one and I probably never will, but I've sure seen them. And you know it's much more than a carpet. It's a work of art! Years ago Amy Carmichael wrote about the incredible process that produces these masterpieces. Try to picture this. There are two sets of workmen sitting on a bench on one side of the carpet which is hanging from a beam up above. The designer stands on the other side, he's holding a pattern in his hand and he directs the workers by calling across to them exactly what they're to do next. It's like a chant actually. And then the workman chants back to the designer the word that he's heard, verifying that order. Then the workman cuts from whatever bobbin has been ordered and he pushes that thread through the carpet warp and he knots it. All he can see is that thread. He sees nothing of the pattern until the caret is finished. That's all in the designer's hands. But when he finally sees what all these commands and all these threads have made, wow!
