Ah, give me a break. It's not like I'm the only man in the world with this control thing. It must be part of our wiring to be in control, huh? Like driving for example. If you've got four guys traveling together, you usually have four people who want to drive, but that makes the front seat awfully crowded. When a family's going on a long trip, many men make it very clear, "I'll drive." I'm one of those guys who really doesn't like to ride. I like to drive. But a while back, I learned a valuable lesson about this "must drive" neurosis. We had an all-day trip ahead of us and I had a full day of preparation for speaking and radio programs. I find that's hard to do with a steering wheel in your hand, which is a habit the the National Safety Council recommends. So my wife drove the whole trip while I buried myself in my work. Man, did I get a lot done!
It's only a story, but the point it makes is a reality not to be ignored. As the story goes, there was a day when the devil called an emergency meeting in hell. All his senior demons were there. The agenda: how to increase the number of people who were going to hell instead of heaven. The first demon to speak said, "Let me launch an all-out attack on people's belief in the Bible and in Jesus as the Son of God. Before I'm finished, they won't trust either one, and hell will be full." The devil was impressed and he released that first demon to launch his doubt offensive on the future inhabitants of eternity. After an appropriate time, Satan reconvened his council of senior demons. He was not pleased, especially with demon number one. He said, "The number of people coming to hell is up only slightly since you tried your little strategy of creating doubt. This isn't working! We need a better idea."
The events of September 11, 2001, changed a lot of things, including our definition of the word "hero." Because we saw what real heroes look like - those police and firefighters we'll never forget. The ones who went into those burning towers, knowing they might not come out alive. But there were people to rescue. Immediately, professional football and baseball players began to speak out, telling the world they aren't the heroes. The people who risk their lives to save others are. By that definition, the rescue swimmers of the United States Coast Guard more than qualify. We saw them in action after Hurricane Katrina submerged much of New Orleans. They were the men dangling from those helicopters, scooping desperate people off rooftops. That was easy compared to some of their rescues, like plunging from a hovering chopper into an angry sea to save a life. A recent movie told the story of these heroes and portrayed how they lived out their motto, "So others may live." The seasoned veteran who is training a class of rookies shows them the depth of a rescuer's life-saving commitment. It's all about grabbing the hand of that person who's about to die and making a promise: "I won't let go." And they don't.
"Amnesia Al." That's all the officials in Denver knew to call him. They found him on the street, living as a homeless man, with no clue as to who he was or where he came from. The police figured that there must be someone out there who would recognize him. So they put him on national television with a police detective who explained Amnesia Al's predicament, and his heartfelt plea still rings in my ears: "I feel totally lost. If only someone could just tell me who I am and who I belong to." Thankfully, someone did. His fiancée in another state recognized him and she answered the questions.
My wife and her family were out for a swim in a nearby river. They had invited their pastor to go with them. He was pretty much a pool swimmer - a lake swimmer - and he was unfamiliar with the river currents that can make swimming a little more challenging than usual. Pastor wasn't aware of the whirlpool in that water near the bluffs that overlooked the river. He got too close, and suddenly he got sucked into that swirling water. Their pastor was in serious trouble. And since everyone was swimming, they didn't immediately see the danger he was in. He'd already gone down twice when he finally managed to get off one yell for help. My father-in-law responded immediately and he went in for the rescue, and he saved his pastor's life that day.
They called it the "perfect storm." The remains of a hurricane combined with some storm fronts over New England to create a weather monster. The movie, The Perfect Storm, tells the story of one fishing crew's heroic but unsuccessful battle to survive that storm. Author Peter Hiett tells of another battle for survival that took place to the south, just off the New Jersey shore. John had taken his six-year-old daughter sailing that same day, but he didn't check the weather report. Six miles out, he found himself suddenly in trouble as a major storm seemed to come from nowhere. It wasn't long before their boat capsized, and John and his daughter were in the water and their life preservers were swept out to sea with their boat.
I thought I was going to gag on the smell. When I was a little guy, my mother used to drag me with her to the beauty parlor where she got her hair done. I'm not sure what chemicals they used back then, but I obviously must have done something horrendous for my mother to subject her precious little boy to this nasal torture. And I wasn't sure what was going on when they put this hood-like machine on my mother's head. For all I knew, it was some kind of mechanical brain-sucker. I mean, I didn't know what was going on. Anyway, Mom used to come away with what they called a "permanent." Now, today, the chemicals don't reek like they did back then, and they've abbreviated the name of all that curly hair to "perm" - short for permanent, which they're not. They weren't when it stunk getting it done; they're not today when the process is much nicer. Let's get real here, perms should be called temps. They don't last.
It was a big youth event. And, one of the top contemporary Christian bands around was performing that night in a major arena, and I was part of the program, too. I offered to be a backup singer, but apparently they had that covered. I'm a good backup singer actually. I mean, when I sing, people back up! Actually, I was there to speak that night, and, not to do comedy, and it's a good thing, and I had some Native young people from our summer team there with me. One of them was accompanying me as we tried to connect with some of the team at another entrance. We went through the tunnels that connect the backstage areas of the arena, and everywhere we went, we met those big, beefy security guys. They'd look at my all-access security pass and they'd wave me on. But they weren't quite as friendly to the young team member who was with me. They stopped her and asked her if she had a pass. She didn't. None of the team members did because they weren't on the program. And that's where the magic words came in. They worked for the girl who was with me; they worked every time for the young people who joined me. I would just say, "She's with me. He's with me."
It's an old joke, but it's still worth repeating. "What did the Indians say when Columbus landed?" Answer: "There goes the neighborhood!" Well, from the Native perspective, that's exactly what happened. As the march of non-Native people spread across this continent, each tribe had to decide how they were going to respond. Some tribes that our On Eagles' Wings team went to in a recent summer historically used a vivid word picture to capture the choice that their people faced. They talked about the two canoes. They said there were two canoes on this river that divided the world of their people from the world of these new people who had come. One canoe was the ways of the Indian people, the other canoe the ways of the white people. And, as the elders would say, you could not have a foot in each canoe. You had to choose your canoe.
It might be the dirtiest car I've ever driven. Someone asked me if I wanted to take a picture of our filthy chariot, and I said, "No, I don't want to remember him this way." We had spent weeks on drought-dry back roads. It was never a secret we were coming. You could see the dust long before you could see our car. It was, in the Bible's words, our own "pillar of cloud." Anywhere you rubbed against this car you picked up dirt from it. I wish more people had rubbed against it! Our car had been driven by several drivers during our summer outreach to reservations, and somewhere along the way, the rubber gasket around our trunk lid had been ripped out. One day I opened my trunk to get something, and I was greeted with a lovely blanket of chalky, white dust over everything. By the time we got to a city with a car wash, the automatic windows wouldn't even open. We wondered if their mechanism could be choked with dust. We managed to find a car wash that used these words to advertise their services - high-powered, and they weren't lying. No, the water from their hoses could be used in building demolition I think or riot control! Their soapy spray seemed to penetrate every filthy crevice of my "dirtmobile." When we drove out, there was no trace anywhere of the dirt that had covered everything only moments before. Oh, P.S. - the windows were working, too!
Add new comment 
The events of September 11, 2001, changed a lot of things, including our definition of the word "hero." Because we saw what real heroes look like - those police and firefighters we'll never forget. The ones who went into those burning towers, knowing they might not come out alive. But there were people to rescue. Immediately, professional football and baseball players began to speak out, telling the world they aren't the heroes. The people who risk their lives to save others are. By that definition, the rescue swimmers of the United States Coast Guard more than qualify. We saw them in action after Hurricane Katrina submerged much of New Orleans. They were the men dangling from those helicopters, scooping desperate people off rooftops. That was easy compared to some of their rescues, like plunging from a hovering chopper into an angry sea to save a life. A recent movie told the story of these heroes and portrayed how they lived out their motto, "So others may live." The seasoned veteran who is training a class of rookies shows them the depth of a rescuer's life-saving commitment. It's all about grabbing the hand of that person who's about to die and making a promise: "I won't let go." And they don't.
