Life Without Limits

by Nick Vujicic

  Studies have shown that being “lost” or totally engaged in your favorite activity, whether it’s playing Monopoly, painting a landscape, or running a marathon, may just be as close to true happiness as we can get on this earth. I often fall into that sort of “flow” state when I fish, which is my favorite form of relaxing play.

  My parents first took me when I was just six years old. My mum gave me a hand line with corn niblets as bait. She threw it into the water, and I held on to the line with my toes. I was a determined tyke. I figured I could outwait the fish. Sooner or later they’d have to take a bite of my corn because I wasn’t leaving until I hooked a whopper.

  My strategy worked. A two-foot fish finally went after my niblet, probably because he was tired of my little shadow hovering over the water. When the monster took my bait and ran with it, he pulled the fishing line through my toes and it hurt like crazy. Rather than let go of the fish, I came up with an ingenious move. I sat on the line, which then burned my bum when the big fish kept pulling on it.

  “I’ve got a fish. Oh, my bum hurts. But I’ve got a fish!” I screamed.

  My mum and dad and cousins came running to help me pull in the whopper, one that was about the same length as me. Mine was the biggest fish caught all day, and it was worth every bit of my pain. After that, I was hooked on fishing for life.

  I no longer use just a hand-held fishing line. I mastered the rod and reel so I wouldn’t suffer any more bum burns. If a fish bites, I’m strong enough to hold the rod between my shoulder and chin. I cast by holding the line in my teeth and releasing at just the right moment. Yes, it’s true, I floss and fish at the same time!

  MUSICALLY INCLINED

  If you think fishing is an outrageous pastime for me, just think how people respond when I tell them I was not only a drummer in my school band but a conductor too! It’s true, though. I’ve got the beat, mate. I mastered the rare musical art of hymnal percussion at a young age. Every Sunday night at church I’d set up rows of hymnals of varied thickness. I’d pound out a beat on the hymn books with my foot while the church choir sang. I come from a long line of avid drummers, including my cousin Ian Pasula, who was the first drummer in the church band. I had such a natural ability to keep a beat that a couple of my uncles and their church friends kicked in to buy me a Roland drum machine. This amplified wonder transformed me into a one-man, no-limbed percussion orchestra. I started with just the snare drum and bass drum and later progressed to incorporating the closed and open high hats.

  The church’s pianist, organist, and drummers would join in and make me feel part of the band. I still play a newer version of the drum machine, which I’ve upgraded with a Mac Keys program, where I can use it as a synthesizer and even play a guitar electronically. Music is a balm for my soul. Whether listening or playing, I can lose myself for hours in waves of sound.

  My love of music was nurtured in jazz ensembles and high school jazz bands. Perhaps the musical highlight of my life so far came when I quite literally took my entire high school orchestra on my shoulders. Now there’s a job you’d never expect someone like me to take in hand. Reeediculous, right?

  Well, our music teacher was having health problems, and she couldn’t make our rehearsals, so I volunteered to be the conductor for our sixty-piece orchestra. I knew all the songs we were playing, so I stood in front of our huge group of student musicians and led them by waving my shoulders around. I’ll go out on a limb here and say that they sounded ridiculously good that day.

  A RIDICULOUS CONCLUSION

  Most of us have little clue as to what God has planned for us each day, each month, year, or lifetime. But each of us has the capacity to add our own flourishes, to pursue our purpose, our passion, and our pleasures with reckless abandon and ridiculous enthusiasm. In this chapter alone, I’ve recounted my adventures as an airplane carry-on and an airport carousel rider, as a scuba diver and a stuntman, as a fisherman, a drummer, and an orchestra conductor. My question to you now is: If imperfect me can have that much ridiculous fun, if I can push the limits and enjoy life so fully, what about you?

  Live to glorify God, and don’t leave an ounce of energy, a trace of your uniqueness, behind. Dare to be ridiculous, and you will be ridiculously happy.

  TWELVE

  Make Giving Your Mission

  When I was twenty, I decided to go to South Africa on a two-week speaking tour arranged by someone I’d never met. My mum and dad were not enthused because they were concerned about my safety and health, and about the costs involved. Can you imagine that? John Pingo had seen one of my first videos and made it his mission to lure me to speak to the neediest people in the poorest regions of his country. On his own he set up a series of appearances for me at congregations, schools, and orphanages through his network of Doxa Deo churches.

  John wrote, called, and e-mailed, begging me to come to his country. His persistence and enthusiasm triggered something in me. When I was growing up and sometimes tortured over my circumstances and my future, the one action other than prayer that seemed to bring me relief was to reach out and do something for another person. The more I dwelled on my own challenges, the worse I felt, but when I changed my focus to serving the needs of someone else, it lifted my spirits and helped me understand that no one suffers alone.

  Whether you have a lot or a little to offer, just remember that small acts of kindness can be just as powerful as big donations. If you make a difference in just one life, you’ve done a great service, because simple kindness can start a chain reaction of similar actions, resulting in your effort’s initial results becoming magnified many times. How many times have you had someone do something nice for you and then, feeling grateful, you turn around and do a kindness for someone else? I believe it is part of our God-given nature to respond in this manner.

  Earlier I told you how a simple kind comment from a girl in my school infused me with confidence at a critical point in my life when I had been feeling useless and unwanted. She gave me a boost that made me think maybe I did have something to offer, and now I seek to provide inspiration to those in need worldwide while spreading the word of God’s love. That girl’s simple kindness to me has been magnified many, many times over.

  So if you say that you would do more if you had more, I encourage you to simply do what you can now and every day. Money isn’t the only contribution you can make. Whatever God has given you, share it in ways to benefit others. If you have carpentry or other trade skills, offer them to your church, to Habitat for Humanity, or to the victims of disasters in Haiti and other needy places. Whether it’s sewing or singing, accounting or auto repair, there are plenty of ways you can multiply your talents.

  A high school student from Hong Kong recently e-mailed my Web site, demonstrating how we can all make a difference no matter how old, how rich, or how poor.

  I live a very fortunate life, but even still there were times when I nonetheless felt useless and frightened. I was scared entering my high school years because of stories I’d heard about how the older students might treat you. Then on my first day of school, I joined the other students in my Humanities in Action classroom and I had a great teacher who taught us to no longer see ourselves as a class but a family.

  Over time we learned so many things. We were introduced to important events in other parts of the world, such as the 1994 genocide in Rwanda and the current Genocide in Darfur, Sudan. My class and I came to feel something that we had never felt before: Passion. We had a passion to understand and help what was happening to the people in Darfur. Even though people wouldn’t expect much from 14-year-old kids, we found a way of showing the world how we could make a difference.

  We put on a performance in which we showed the audience what was happening in Darfur. We found a passion that ignited our souls and spirit. Because of this we were able to do the unexpected and raised enough money to send essential supplies to help people in Darfur.

  Those are wise words from a young person, aren’t they? The passion
to serve others may be the greatest gift God can bestow. I’m sure the people in Darfur who benefited from the supplies were grateful for every single item, big or small. The awesome power of God is reflected in the fact that if we want to do something for others, our availability is every bit as important as our capability. God works through us when we reach out for others. Once you make yourself available for good works, guess whose capabilities you can rely on? God’s! The Bible says, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

  Whatever you want for yourself, do it for others. If you make even small acts of compassion a daily habit, you will feel empowered and liberated from your own hurts and disappointments. You shouldn’t expect to benefit from being generous or supportive to others, but good deeds can lead to surprising rewards.

  I’m an advocate of unconditional generosity because it honors God and multiplies His blessings. Yet I also believe that when you do unto others, blessings come to you as well. So if you don’t have a friend, be a friend. If you are having a bad day, make someone else’s day. If your feelings are hurt, heal those of another.

  You never know how much of a difference you can make in this world simply by performing a small act of kindness. Small ripples can set huge waves in motion. The classmate who saw that I was feeling down after being teased and told me that I was looking good not only soothed my hurt feelings, she lit a spark that ignited my career and my mission to reach out to others worldwide.

  A PASSION FOR REACHING OUT

  Don’t worry about how much you can do to benefit others. Just reach out and know that small acts of kindness multiply and are strengthened beyond anything you might imagine. Like the student from Hong Kong, I became more and more passionate about traveling to South Africa the more I thought about it and the more I heard from John Pingo.

  I prayed about the proposed trip for three weeks. After that, I really felt that I had a calling to go. I wanted to offer inspiration without limits, and this seemed like a good first step toward a worldwide ministry. I knew very little about South Africa, and I had never traveled that far without my parents. My dad did have friends who lived there, and after he spoke with them, he wasn’t reassured. They reported that violent crime was a serious problem and that travelers were often attacked, robbed, and even killed.

  “It’s not a safe place to go, Nick,” my father said. “You don’t even know this John Pingo. Why would you trust him to take you all over that country?”

  My mum and dad have very few gray hairs, which is surprising given some of my adventures as a strong-willed young man. But like all parents, they are very protective of me. Given my disabilities, they felt they had all the more reason to be concerned about my safety. But I yearned to make my way, to follow my calling and get on with my career as an evangelist and inspirational speaker.

  When I raised the prospect of the South Africa trip, their initial concern was for my welfare and financial stability. I’d just bought my first house with my earnings, and they felt I should be paying off my debts instead of gallivanting around the globe.

  Their concerns increased dramatically when I also revealed to them that (1) while I was in South Africa, I intended to give away more than $20,000 of my life savings to orphanages, and (2) I wanted to take my little brother with me.

  Looking back from my parents’ perspective today, I can better appreciate how worrying it must have been for them. But I was determined. The Bible says, “If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?” I wanted to act on my faith by serving others. Though I am disabled, I felt enabled by my faith, and I felt that it was time to serve my purpose.

  I still had to convince my parents that I would be safe. Even my brother was not all that enthused about going with me at first. In fact, when I asked him, initially he refused because of the reports of violence and “I don’t want to be eaten by a lion.” I kept pushing and prodding him, tried to explain the situation about lions. I’d recruited two cousins to go; one had to drop out. Aaron then felt it was his duty to go and help me make the trip. My parents and I prayed about this journey, and eventually they gave their blessing to go forward with it. They were still concerned, but they trusted God would look after us.

  SERVING THE WORLD

  When we arrived in South Africa after a long flight, our host was waiting for us at the airport as promised, but for some reason I’d pictured John Pingo to be an older man, maybe not as old as my parents but at least in his thirties.

  He was nineteen years old! That was a year younger than I was at the time.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, I thought when we met at the airport. Fortunately, John proved to be a very mature and capable bloke, who opened my eyes to more poverty and need than I’d ever witnessed. He told me how he had been inspired by my life story when he saw my video, but I came to realize that his story was every bit as compelling, and his dedication to his faith humbled me.

  He grew up on a livestock farm in the Republic of the Orange Free State in southern South Africa. He’d run with a bad crowd earlier in life, but he’d become an avid Christian and was now the owner of a small trucking company. He was grateful to God for helping him change his life and for blessing him.

  John was so determined to have me speak words of faith and inspiration around his country that he’d sold his own car to raise enough money for our tour of churches, schools, orphanages, and prisons. Then he’d borrowed his aunt’s blue van to haul me to speaking engagements in Cape Town, Pretoria, Johannesburg, and all points in between.

  It was a crazy schedule, and we often went with just four or five hours of sleep each day. But this trip introduced me to people, places, and things that changed my life forever. It helped me realize what I wanted to do with the rest of my life: to share my message of encouragement and faith around the globe.

  Aaron and I thought we’d seen a bit growing up in Australia and living for a short time in California. But on this trip we realized we were babes in these woods. That realization really sank in when we left the airport and were driving through Johannesburg. Aaron looked out his window at an intersection and saw a sign that terrified him: “Smash and Grab Area.”

  Aaron looked at our driver. “John, what does that sign mean?”

  “Oh, that means this is an area where they will smash your car windows, grab your things out of the car, and run off,” said John.

  We locked the doors and began scanning all around us. We noted that many people lived in homes surrounded by high concrete walls with barbed-wire fencing at the top. Several people we met in the first couple days told of being mugged or robbed, but eventually we found that South Africa was no more dangerous than many other regions where poverty and crime are concerns.

  In fact, Aaron and I both fell in love with South Africa and its people. Despite all this nation’s problems, we found South Africans to be wonderful, filled with hope and joy despite their circumstances. We’d never seen such depths of poverty and despair, nor such inexplicable joy and unyielding faith, as we found there.

  The orphanages were both heart-wrenching and inspiring. We visited one orphanage dedicated to rescuing abandoned children who had been left in trash cans and on park benches. Most of them were sick and suffering from malnutrition. They affected us so much that we returned the next day with pizza, soft drinks, toys, soccer balls, and other simple gifts. The children were ecstatic about them.

  But we also saw children with open wounds from flesh-eating bacteria, children and adults dying of AIDS, and families living day to day in search of food and clean water to drink. To see that up close, to smell the sickness and death hovering over human beings in agony, and to know that all I could do was pray over them to comfort them, was such an eye-opening experience. I had never seen such poverty and suffering. It was so much worse than anything I’ve ever endured, and it made my life seem pampered by comparison. I was overwhelmed with conflicting feelings: compassio
n that made me want to leap into action and save everyone I could, and anger at the existence of such suffering and its seeming unchangeability.

  Our father often spoke of his childhood in Serbia, having only a piece of bread and a little water and sugar for dinner at night. His father, my grandfather, had been a barber by trade. He had worked in a government salon, but when he refused to join the Communist Party, he was forced out. It was difficult for him to operate his own shop because of constant pressure from the Communists. The family had to move once or twice a year so that my grandfather, whose faith prohibited him from bearing arms, could avoid being drafted into the military. When he contracted tuberculosis and could no longer work at his trade, my grandmother had to support their six children with work as a seamstress.

  My father’s stories of his family’s struggles carried new meaning for me after I witnessed poverty and hunger up close in South Africa; now I’d seen anguish in the eyes of dying mothers and heard their children screaming because of their aching, empty stomachs. We visited slums where families lived in tiny tin sheds no bigger than storage rooms, with newspapers for insulation and no running water. I spoke at a prison where the inmates filled the chapel and a courtyard outside it. We learned that many of the prisoners were still awaiting trial and that the only crime of many was to owe money to someone with the power to have them arrested. We met one prisoner who’d been sentenced to serve ten years because he owed $200. That day the prisoners sang for us, and their voices soared with amazing joy in such a desolate place.