JFK AND ME

JFK was coming to town.

It was in my first year of seminary in Berkeley, California, and the president of the United States was making a political visit to one of the most radical towns in the USA. His route was mapped out in the newspaper, so a friend and I drove downtown to get a glimpse of the man.

We were looking for a strategic parking spot, but we couldn’t find anything. Not one empty parking place in town. People from all over the Bay area had the same idea my friend and I had. Disappointed, we drove to a shopping area on the outskirts of town, nowhere near his route. We parked and thought we’d shop for some books.

As we walked up to a corner, we noticed a motorcade coming our way. Hardly anybody on the sidewalks. Everybody was where we had intended to be.

Then, it hit me.

“That’s the president’s motorcade,” I told my friend. “Can’t be two motorcades in town the same day.”

We froze on the corner, and sure enough, there he was. Sitting in the backseat of a convertible, the tanned JFK smiled and waved at us as his car slowed down to turn the corner. We were ten feet from the most powerful man in the free world. We couldn’t believe it. He looked just like any other human being.

Later, that evening, the news reported the president had to take a different route because of a threat on his life.

A route right by us.

HINDSIGHT: I thought it was coincidence when it happened. Now, I’m not so sure God didn’t cause us to reach that corner just in time to clearly see JFK, whose car had to slow down to make the turn. God is the master of timing.

CELEBRITY CRASH

I grew up in southern California with Disneyland only a few miles away. One day, while in high school, I had one of my embarrasing moments. Some buddies and I went to the famous theme park, the same day they were opening the Swiss Family Robinson Tree House.

Walt Disney, of course, was host for the event. The same man who had patted me on the head when, as a kid, I was vacationing in Hawaii. We stood in the crowd for a few minutes, watching the ceremonies, and then went on our way.

As my buddies and I were walking along, I started putting on a show for them, saying things like, "Yeah, Walt and I go back a long ways. At one time, we were really close." I went on and on, milking that head patting incident for all it was worth - and then some. Of course, I had my head turned to my friends as I was walking and talking.

Suddenly, I crashed into someone walking my way. I quickly grabbed the person to keep from falling, apologizing at the same time, only to feel my face flush red when I realized it was Walt Disney I was holding onto. Strange, for some reason, he didn't recognize me. All of my boasting burst like a balloon at the opening ceremonies. As the great man walked away my friends couldn't contain themselves.

Nor did they want to.

"Hey, Wes," one of them said, splitting his sides, "Walt must be losing his eyesight. He didn't know it was you, his good 'ol friend."

Hindsight: God has His own "fun" ways of bringing us back to reality.

A PAT ON THE HEAD

I was eight years old when my dad passed away. Shortly afterward, my mother took my sister and me on a cruise to the Hawaiian islands, mainly to get a new start.

The Royal Hawaiian Hotel on Waikiki Beach was our home base, and we did all the tourist things, including taking advantage of the ocean in our "front yard."

However, my most memorable moment was standing on the back patio of the hotel watching the hula dancers perform. One of the girls then brought out an older guy to teach him to hula. Of course, it was all just for laughs.

As I was laughing, I felt a couple of pats on the top of my head. I thought it was probably my mom. So, you can imagine my surprise as I turned my head and looked up into the face of Walt Disney.

He smiled at me and said, “The girls are a lot better than that old guy, aren’t they, sonny?”

I smiled back, and muttered something like, “Uh, yeah.”

That was the best I could do.

I couldn’t believe that Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Pluto, and Goofy, all rolled into one man was standing next to me, talking to me...with his hand still on my head. I thought I had a great excuse not to wash for a long time, but my mom didn't buy into my thinking.

Hindsight: Sometimes, in the routine things of life, God brings excitement to us. We don’t have to go looking for it.

CAN BECOME A WORLD CHAMPION

As a young weightlifter, still in college, I had the good fortune of being coached by Frank Spellman, a former Olympic and world champion. He took me, along with another young weightlifter, under his wing and taught us what he knew about lifting, which was a “library” of lifting knowledge. From Frank, I learned not only technique, and strength exercises, but also how to see myself.

One afternoon, in his garage that was converted into a gym, he put a hand on my shoulder, and with his steel blue eyes penetrating into my soul, said, “Wes, you can become a world champion.”

My head rocked back in shock. In fact, in total disbelief. I said something intelligent like, “Uh, sure,” and awkwardly laughed. Frank's expression didn’t change. With his hand still gripping my shoulder, and in a calm deliberate voice, he added, “I’m not telling you this just to make you feel good. I really believe it. What you do with it is up to you.”

Suddenly, I realized, Frank really meant it. But, how could that possibly be? I knew I wasn’t God’s gift to the lifting world. In fact, at that time, I wasn’t even the strongest guy in our small lifting area. So, why did Frank tell me that?

I wish I could end this brief look back by saying I then went on to win nine world championships. The truth is, I never came close to capturing even one national championship, let alone, a world championship. But, I can tell you this. Whenever I worked out with Frank, he brought the best out of me. Why? Because I knew he believed in me and he wanted me to succeed.

His vision kept pulling the best out of me.

Hindsight: God uses people to give a vision to others that will help pull the best out of them. I want to do for others what Frank did for me.

WATCHING TV WITH A HALL OF FAMER

In 1967, when the old Baltimore Colts came to Los Angeles for a game against the Rams, I phoned Raymond Berry, the great receiver for the Colts. I had met Raymond a couple of years earlier when he agreed to serve on an advisory board for a youth football program I was running in southern California.

He invited me to his hotel room, and when I arrived he and Jim Ward, a backup quarterback to the legendary Johnny Unitas, were watching a college game on TV. It was the day before the last game in Raymond’s career. We talked awhile, then we all got absorbed in the game. In between plays, Jim related a story to me about Raymond. Raymond was listening, but I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable that anyone would be praising him.

It seems that in one game, the previous season, Unitas threw an uncatchable ball to Raymond that landed behind him. Raymond had made a twisting effort, but he didn’t catch it. The entire next week, after the regular practice, Raymond had Jim Ward go over with him to a long jump pit. Raymond stood at one end, with his back to the pit, Jim at the other end. Jim would throw a football into the pit, then yell, “Now,” as the ball was descending. Raymond would whip around and dive to catch the ball.

Day after day they would do this, and toward the end of the week, he finally caught every ball thrown. One day, another player came up to Raymond and said, “Man, this is crazy. When will Johnny ever throw you a bad ball again?” “Maybe never,” Raymond answered, “but if he does, the next time I’ll catch it.”

As Ward finished his story, I looked over at Raymond. He was just smiling with his modest, “Aw shucks,” manner. It didn’t surprise me that when Raymond was eligible for the Football Hall of Fame in 1973, he was easily voted in. Not bad for a receiver with poor eyesight, less than blazing speed, and who had to wear special shoes because one leg was shorter than the other.

Hindsight: Average Abilities + Personal Shortcomings + Dedicated Goal + Hard Work (CAN =) Greatness

HUGE COLLISION ON THE PRACTICE FIELD

As a football player in high school, I looked forward more to the actual games than I did to the routine practices. Dreams of glory filled my mind for the games, even though some of those dreams were unfulfilled, and a few even turned into nightmares. I knew nothing but hard work and jarring impacts were awaiting me at the practices.

However, my attitude toward practices changed when Kenny Olson, my athletic, twenty-four year old, pastor told me he was coming to watch me practice the next day. Suddenly I found myself looking forward to that practice. I wanted to do well in his eyes.

The next day practice began, but Kenny hadn’t arrived yet. Although my normal position was running back, in scrimmage that day I was playing defensive back. The one guy I always hated to tackle was Joe Doolittle, a hard running fullback weighing in at 205 pounds of chiseled muscle. I weighed only 155 pounds. So, whenever I went to tackle Joe, I could pretty well anticipate my bones being rattled.

Just as I spotted Kenny walking through the gate toward the sideline, Joe got the ball and, with his head down, came charging directly at me. I was the only one between him and the end zone. With a resolve to look good for Kenny, I rammed into Joe with more intensity than I usually gave. It was a huge collision, and a surprised Joe came down, right on top of me. However, he quickly jumped up and trotted back to the huddle.

I got up more slowly, hoping nothing was broken and shaking my head, trying to clear out the cobwebs. Then, Kenny's voice boomed from the sideline, “Way to go, Wes! You really gave it to him!” His words were like a shot of adrenaline, and although I knew who “gave it” to whom, I jogged back to the defensive huddle ready to do it again.

Hindsight: I perform better in whatever I'm doing when I have the right audience. God wants me to focus on Him as my only audience.

Please feel free to comment on this hindsight. You might have found the same to be true with you.

On Monday, another look back, and another hindsight.

BODYGUARD FOR BILLY GRAHAM

Several years ago, when I was on the traveling weightlifting team for Athletes in Action (the athletic arm for Campus Crusade for Christ), our team of five was asked to be body guards for the famed evangelist, Billy Graham.It happened at the Cotton Bowl in Dallas, Texas. The year was 1972. The event was Explo '72, a huge gathering of Christians from all over the nation in Dallas to receive training in how to take their faith public.

Dr. Graham was to be the featured speaker on one of the evenings. However, as was the case wherever he traveled, someone had phoned in a death threat. All I was thinking was the great honor it was to be that close to Dr. Graham. The death threat didn't even cross my mind. At first, that is.

We had to walk a couple hundred yards from his car, through a wide outdoor corridor to the platform on the football field. The five of us were asked to walk in a circle around him. I was the point man, leading the way. All I could think of while we were walking Billy (suddenly I'm on a first name basis, like he's an old buddy) to the stadium was, "What an unbelievable honor this is."

He gave his usual great message, then we met him at the steps leading down from the platform. We formed our circle around him, and again, I was the point man, leading the way. Again, I thought, "What an honor!"

Then, it hit me as we approached the now darkened corridor. "If someone is going to take a shot at Billy," I thought, "that bullet has to go through me first." I started looking around a little more cautiously as I picked up the pace. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure about the honor any more. Not that it wouldn't have been a great honor to have taken a bullet for Billy. I would have gladly done it if it wouldn't have hurt any, and I would have gone on living.

Well, we made it back to the car with no incident. After Billy shook our hands and thanked us for being there for him, he got into the car and drove off. For him, the next day would be another routine speaking engagement, and another routine death threat.

As the five of us walked back to the stadium, it came to me that what I was fearful of doing for Billy, Jesus had already done for me. And, He had been more than willing.

Hindsight: The greatest love is demonstrated by the greatest sacrifice.

(Note: I'll have another hindsight tomorrow. If you'd like to comment on this one, please feel free to do so.)