by Nick Vujicic
Adopting an attitude of action creates positive momentum. The first steps are the hardest, no doubt about it. Just getting up out of bed may seem impossible at first, but once you are up, you can move forward, and as long as you are moving forward, you are on a path away from the past and toward the future. Go with that. Move ahead step by step. If you’ve lost someone or something, help someone else or build something else to serve as a memorial and tribute.
One of the most devastating experiences is the loss of a loved one. Losing a family member or a friend triggers grief that can cripple us. Other than perhaps being glad for having loved them and known them and had time with them, there is little to be grateful for in such situations. Nothing prepares us for the grief that can overwhelm and even paralyze us. Still, some take action so that their terrible loss becomes a force for good. A well-known example is Candy Lightner, who channeled her anger and anguish into action after her thirteen-year-old daughter was killed by a drunk driver. She founded Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD), which undoubtedly has saved many lives through its activism and education programs.
When tragedies strike us or those we love, the temptation is to go off somewhere and cry, hoping that eventually the heartbreak will ease one day. Yet many people like Tabitha, Joni Eareckson Tada, and Candy Lightner have taken attitudes of action. They believe that even the worst tragedy in their lives can provide opportunities for good deeds. An incredible example of this sort of person is Carson Leslie in Dallas. He was sixteen years old when I met him, but he had been battling cancer for two years already. This young star athlete with a brilliant smile, whose dream had been to play shortstop for the New York Yankees, was just fourteen when he was diagnosed with a brain tumor that had spread to his spine. He underwent surgeries, radiation, and chemotherapy. His cancer went into remission. Then it came back.
Through it all Carson did his best to be a normal kid, living a normal life. He often spoke of his favorite Bible verse, which someone had given him just after he was diagnosed. It’s Joshua 1:9: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
Carson was quick to say that this Bible verse was not his “cancer verse” but his “life verse.”
“No matter how long I live, I want this verse on my tombstone. And when people visit my grave, I want them to read the verse and think about how it got me through my struggles in life, and I hope others will see that this verse can offer them the same kind of comfort it gives me,” Carson wrote in his book, Carry Me.
This incredibly brave boy wrote the book with his English teacher to “give a voice to the teenagers and children who have cancer but are unable to express how such an illness affects their personal, social, physical and emotional life.” Carson died on January 12, 2010, just as his book was being released. Proceeds go to the Carson Leslie Foundation in support of pediatric cancer research.
How unselfish this young man was. Though he was sick and weary, he spent his final days working on a book to encourage and benefit others. I love too that the final words in his book are these: “None of us know what life has in store … but it’s easy to have courage when you know the courage comes from God.”
I met Carson through Dallas jeweler Bill Noble, a man of deep faith who has often invited me to speak to his church congregation and other groups. Bill’s children went to school with Carson, and he brought us together. He called us both “generals in the Kingdom of God.”
Aside from teasing me about being “disarming,” Bill often stresses the importance of leaving a legacy and making every second count just as Carson did, even at such a young age. Bill used to tell Carson something he’d also told me many times. “God does not define man by his earthly body. As it says in John 6:63: ‘The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and they are life.’ ”
3. An Attitude of Empathy
If an attitude of action seems beyond your ability, there is yet another option, one that comes from the heart. As I grew more mature and my range of experience expanded, I realized that one of the key factors leading to my thoughts of suicide as a boy was the fact that I was terribly self-centered. I actually believed that no one suffered the emotional pain and physical frustration that I did. My focus was entirely on my own circumstances.
My attitude improved considerably when I grew up a little and realized that many have challenges equal to and greater than my own. When I acknowledged that, I began to reach out to offer encouragement to others with far more empathy. The young daughter of a family friend provided me with a very moving display of empathy on a visit to Australia in 2009. I’d never met the girl, who was only two and a half years old. They’d brought her to a party, and for the longest time she kept her distance, studying me from afar as small children often do. Then, as her parents were preparing to leave, I asked this beautiful child if she wanted to give me a hug.
She smiled and cautiously stepped toward me. Just as she came close enough, she stopped, looked me in the eye, and slowly folded her arms behind her back as if to show solidarity with my lack of limbs. Then she inched forward a little more and placed her head on my shoulder, hugging me with her neck just as she’d seen me hug others. Everyone in the room was struck by this little girl’s incredible display of empathy for me. I’ve been hugged many times, but I can honestly say I’ll never forget that hug, because this tiny child obviously has an amazing gift for relating to the feelings of others. Empathy is a great gift. I encourage you to practice and share it at every opportunity because it heals those who give, as well as those who receive. When you are confronted with hard times, tragedies, or challenges, instead of looking inward, look to those around you. Instead of feeling wounded and seeking pity, find someone with greater wounds and help them heal. Understand that your grief or pain is legitimate, but suffering is part of the human condition, and reaching out to someone else is a way of healing yourself while helping others heal too.
My friend Gabe Murfitt understands this as well as anybody I know. We met when I spoke at the Gather4Him fundraising dinner in Richland, Washington, in 2009. Gabe was born with malformed legs and arms that are just three inches long. His thumbs have no bones in them, and he has a hearing impairment. Somehow, he still manages to be extremely active, playing baseball, basketball, and hockey, jumping rope, and banging away on the drums, among other things.
Gabe, who grew up near Seattle, has an indomitable spirit as well as great empathy. Now a college student at Washington State University, he began playing Little League baseball at the age of six. He once climbed Mount Rainier with a group of friends and family members supporting him. Though he had his own challenges in high school, he began reaching out to other students to inspire them by giving his “CLEAR” speeches on courage, leadership, excellence, attitude, and respect. He and his family created a nonprofit organization to help others with disabilities. Gabriel’s Foundation of HOPE (http://www.GabesHope.org) provides scholarships and grants as well as encouragement as a result of Gabe’s amazing empathy.
Do you see the power in Gabe’s attitude of empathy? He took the focus off his challenge and reached out to others. He transformed the challenge of his disabilities into a mission of empathy, enriching his life and those of countless others.
I often am amazed at the way people react to me when I journey into regions of stark poverty and great suffering. I always find men, women, and children who have incredible compassion. Not long ago I was in Cambodia, rushing to get back to my hotel after a long meeting in stifling heat and humidity that made me feel faint. I just wanted to take a shower and sleep for a day or two in an air-conditioned room.
“Nick, before we go, would you mind speaking with this child?” my host said. “He has been waiting outside for you all day.”
The boy, smaller than me, was alone, sitting in the dirt. Flies swarmed about him in such numbers that they formed a dark c
loud. He had a gaping and deep wound or sore on his head. One of his eyes appeared to be popping out. He smelled of decay and filth. Yet there was such compassion in his eyes, so much love and sympathy—for me—that this child put me completely at ease.
He walked up close to me in my stroller chair and gently put his head against my cheek, trying to soothe me. This boy looked as though he hadn’t eaten for days. He appeared to be an orphan who’d suffered greatly. Yet he wanted to express his empathy for what he imagined was my suffering. I was so touched by him that tears flowed.
I asked our hosts if there was anything we could do for this boy, and they promised me that they would see that he was fed, cared for, and given a place to sleep, but after thanking him and returning to our vehicle, I honestly could not stop crying. I could not think straight for the rest of the day. I could not get over the fact that here was this boy whom I’d felt sorry for, but he wasn’t focused on his suffering. Instead, he had compassion for me.
I don’t know what that child had gone through or how difficult his life was. But I can tell you this: his attitude was amazing because despite all his problems, he still had the ability to reach out and comfort others. What a gift to have such empathy and compassion!
When you feel victimized or self-pitying, I encourage you to adjust your attitude to one of empathy. Reach out to someone else in need. Offer a hand. Volunteer at a shelter. Serve as a guide or a mentor. Use your grief or anger or hurt to help you better understand and ease the pain of someone else.
4. An Attitude of Forgiveness
The fourth attitude you should consider when looking to increase your altitude is an attitude of forgiveness. This may be the best of all, yet it is also the most difficult to learn. Believe me, I know. As I’ve told you, for a time in my childhood I could not forgive God for what seemed a gross mistake, my lack of limbs. I was angry and in full blame mode. Forgiveness was not on my screen.
Like me, you will have to go through a period of anger and resentment to get to forgiveness. That’s natural, but you don’t want to hang on to those emotions too long because after a while you only hurt yourself by allowing them to boil within your heart.
Anger was not designed to be an around-the-clock emotion. Like your car, your body breaks down if you keep the engine racing too long. Medical research has shown that harboring anger and resentment for long periods causes physical and psychological stress that weakens your immune system and breaks down your vital organs. And there’s another problem with the blame game. As long as my lack of arms and legs was someone else’s fault, I didn’t have to take responsibility for my own future. Once I made a conscious decision to forgive God and my doctors and move on with my life, I felt better physically and emotionally, and I felt my time had come to take responsibility for the rest of my life.
An attitude of forgiveness set me free. You see, when you hold on to old hurts, you only give power and control to those who hurt you, but when you forgive them, you cut the ties to them. They can no longer yank on your chain. Don’t get hung up on thinking that by forgiving them you are doing them a favor; if nothing else, do it for yourself.
I forgave all of those kids who mocked and teased me. I didn’t forgive them to absolve them of guilt. I forgave them to unburden myself of anger and resentment. I like myself. I wanted me to be free.
So don’t worry about what your forgiveness does for the antagonizers and hurtful people in your past. Just enjoy what forgiving them does for you. Once you’ve adopted an attitude of forgiveness, you’ll lighten your load so that you can chase your dreams without being weighed down by baggage from the past.
The power in forgiveness goes beyond healing yourself. When Nelson Mandela forgave those who imprisoned him for twenty-seven years, the power of his attitude changed an entire nation and had a ripple effect around the world.
This power was unleashed on a smaller scale in the former Soviet Union. When I was in Ukraine, I met a pastor who’d moved his family to Russia to start a church in an area plagued by violence. As word of the pastor’s plans spread around town, gangsters issued threats toward him and his five sons, so the pastor prayed. “God told me that I would pay a steep cost for planting my church there, but that something amazing would result too,” he said.
Despite the threats, the pastor established his church. At first few people came to his services. Then, just a week after the pastor opened the doors, one of his sons was murdered on the street. The grieving pastor prayed again, asking for God’s guidance. God told him to stay with his church. Three months after his son’s death, the pastor himself was stopped on the street by a scary-looking guy who said, “Would you like to meet the person who killed your son?”
“No,” said the pastor.
“Are you sure?” the man said. “What if he asked your forgiveness?”
“I’ve already forgiven him,” the pastor said.
“I shot your son,” the man said, breaking down. “And I want to join your church.”
In the weeks that followed, so many other members of the Russian mob joined the pastor’s church that crime all but disappeared in the area. That is the power of forgiveness. When you have a forgiving attitude, you put into motion all sorts of amazing energy. And remember, this attitude allows you also to forgive yourself. As a Christian, I know that God forgives those who seek his favor, but too often we refuse to forgive ourselves for past mistakes, wrong turns, and abandoned dreams.
Self-forgiveness is just as important as forgiving others. I’ve made mistakes. So have you. We’ve treated people badly. We’ve judged them unfairly. We all mess up. The key is to step back, admit you’ve fallen short, apologize to the injured parties, make a promise to do better, forgive yourself, and move forward.
Now that’s an attitude you can live with!
The Bible tells us that we reap what we sow. If you are bitter, angry, self-pitying, and unforgiving, what do you think those attitudes will get you? What joy is there in a life like that? So reject those dark and pessimistic moods, load up on optimism, and charge up an attitude of gratitude, an attitude of action, an attitude of empathy, or an attitude of forgiveness.
I have experienced the power of changing my attitude, and I can tell you that it changed my life, taking me to heights I never imagined. It can do the same for you!
SIX
Armless But Not Harmless
My first and only playground fight was with Chucky, the biggest bully in my grade school. His real name wasn’t Chucky, but he had fiery orange hair, freckles, and big ears like the teen-horror-movie Chucky, so I’ll call him that to protect the guilty.
Chucky was the first person to put serious fear in my heart. We all deal with fears throughout our lives, both real and imagined. Nelson Mandela said the brave man is not the one who feels fear but the one who conquers it. I certainly felt fear when Chucky tried to knock my block off, but conquering it was another matter.
You couldn’t have convinced me of it back then, but your fears and mine are really a gift. Our most basic fears, such as the fear of fire, fear of falling, and the fear of roaring beasts, are hardwired into us as survival tools. So be glad for those fears and own them, but don’t let them own you.
Too much fear is not good. Too often our fears of failing or being disappointed or being rejected paralyze us. Rather than face those fears, we surrender to them and limit ourselves.
Don’t let fear keep you from chasing your dreams. You should treat fear like you treat your smoke detector. Pay attention to it when it goes off—look around and see if there is real danger or just the alarm ringing. If there is no real threat, put fear out of your mind and go on with your life.
Chucky, my grade-school tormentor, taught me to conquer my fear and move on, but only after the first and last fight of my childhood. I was friends with almost everyone in my school, even the tough kids. Chucky, though, was straight out of the bully factory. He was an insecure kid always on the prowl for someone to pick on. He was bigger than me, but
then so was everyone else in the school.
I wasn’t exactly a threat to anyone. I was a mere first grader, all of twenty-two pounds, and in a wheelchair. Chucky was a couple years older and a giant compared to me.
“I bet you can’t fight,” he said one day during morning recess.
My friends were there, so I put on a brave face, but I remember thinking: I’m in my wheelchair, and he’s still twice as tall as me. This is not a promising situation.
“Bet ya I can” was the best response I could come up with.
It wasn’t like I had a lot of experience with fighting. I was from a strong Christian family. I’d been taught that violence was not the answer, but I wasn’t a wimp. I’d done a lot of wrestling with my brother and cousins. My little brother still talks about my best wrestling move. Before Aaron grew to be much bigger and taller than me, I could roll him around on the floor and then pin his arm down with my chin.
“You could almost break my arm off with that strong chin of yours,” he says. “But then when I got older and bigger, all I had to do was push my hand against your forehead and you couldn’t get near me.”
That was the problem that I faced with Chucky. I wasn’t afraid to fight him, I just didn’t know how to get the job done. Every fight I’d seen on television or at the movies involved someone punching or kicking someone else. I lacked the essential hardware for both those moves.
None of this seemed to put off Chucky. “If you can fight, prove it!” he said.
“Okay, meet me on the Oval at lunchtime,” I snarled.
“Done,” Chucky said. “You’d better be there.”
The Oval was an egg-shaped patch of concrete in the middle of our grass and dirt playground. Fighting there was like fighting in the center ring of our school circus. The Oval was our main stage. What happened in the Oval didn’t stay in the Oval. If I got whupped in the Oval, I’d never live it down.