PART 2

Unstuck

Guides

In his famous 1875 poem “Invictus,” William Ernest Henley penned these immortal lines: “I am the master of my fate / I am the captain of my soul.”

I wholeheartedly agree. You are the master of your life. You, not your past or your circumstances, are the author of your life. At any given moment, you have the ability to decide, “This is not how my story is going to end.”

But there’s more: in addition to being able to control your future, you have the ability to rewrite your past.

Sound a bit far-fetched? Read on.

Some of the most remarkable individuals in history are those who have used their difficult circumstances to their advantage. Instead of seeing their circumstances as insurmountable challenges, they’ve used them as stepping-stones to move forward. Instead of believing in the problems of their past, they’ve “rewritten” those problems to guide others.

In his Inferno, the poet Dante was guided through the nine circles of hell by Virgil, a fellow poet and one of Rome’s greatest authors. The need of a guide is crucial to our success in life.

To escape our own personal prisons, we need guides—inspirational figures who have walked a similar road and can help us find the way forward. And just as Dante walked through several distinct levels of hell, there are several distinct areas in our lives in which we frequently feel damned. With the help of a guide, we must overcome each of these levels in order to step out of darkness and into the sunlight.

A Guide for

Past Mistakes

Do you feel confined in the prison of your past? Do you feel that you’ve made one too many mistakes? Have your mistakes been so serious that you’ve had to serve time in prison? Do you feel that your past is preventing you from moving forward?

If so, then I would like to introduce you to an extraordinary man. In his youth, he was known as a troublemaker, and later he became a leader in a revolutionary movement against his country’s oppressive government. He was captured, charged with four counts of sabotage and conspiracy to overthrow the government, and imprisoned for twenty-seven years.

While in prison, he memorized the poem “Invictus,” which reads, in part,

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

Instead of blaming the government, his captors, or his circumstances, this man accepted responsibility for his life and fully believed that he still had power to make a difference.

The man was Nelson Mandela, and he emerged from prison a different kind of revolutionary—one whose attitude of forgiveness would change the world. At the age of seventy-five, he was elected president of South Africa, and his attitude and policies helped disarm and dismantle apartheid’s legacy of hatred and racism.

You may feel stuck in life because of your past. You may feel that your mistakes are too great or feel overwhelmed in a prison of your problems. But the life and accomplishments of Nelson Mandela force us to reconsider our possibilities: no matter our past, our circumstances, or even our age, we still have power to overcome by moving forward. Mandela once said, “I am fundamentally an optimist. Whether that comes from nature or nurture, I cannot say. Part of being optimistic is keeping one’s head pointed toward the sun, one’s feet moving forward. There were many dark moments when my faith in humanity was sorely tested, but I would not and could not give myself up to despair. That way lay defeat and death.”¹

Don’t defeat yourself by giving up to despair—keep moving forward.

A Guide for

Physical Limitations

“But what if I’m physically unable to move forward?” you might ask. “What if I have a physical limitation that prevents me from making my body work the way it should?”

This goes back to the discussion of can’t versus can—if you can’t move forward in the way that you want, look for ways in which you can move forward. As Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “If you can’t fly, then run; if you can’t run, then walk; if you can’t walk, then crawl; but whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward.”¹

In the arena of physical limitations, I would introduce you to two different guides, both of them men who lost the ability to walk. One of them forced his legs forward and eventually regained his ability to walk. The other never regained his ability to walk, but he continued to move forward in his own way. The result? They became giants among men and stepped into eternity.

One of them was a man by the name of Glenn Cunningham. When Glenn was the tender age of eight, his legs were severely burned in a tragic accident at his school. After examining his legs, the doctors suggested amputation, but his parents refused. The doctors offered a grim forecast of Glenn’s future, predicting that the child would never walk normally again.

But as he wrote in his book Never Quit, Glenn soon found his determination:

One afternoon a stout lady from Elkhart paid Mother a visit.… The visitor had a loud voice. When she prepared to leave, I could still hear her talking outside. “You may as well face it, my dear,” she told Mother. “Glenn’s going to be an invalid the rest of his life.”

When Mother returned, the look on my face told her I’d heard. She came over to the bed and sat down carefully on the edge of the mattress.

I hurled the words at her. “I’m not going to be an invalid. She’s wrong, you know! Wrong, you hear?”

Mother reached out, brushed back my hair from my sweaty forehead. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Yes, Glenn, I know she’s wrong.” The words came soothingly, gently.

“I will walk again?”

“Yes, Glenn, you’ll walk again.”

“I will!” And now I was screaming. “I will! I will!”²

After years of retraining himself, Glenn was eventually able to walk and run again. In time, he competed in the 1932 and 1936 Olympics, won numerous medals, and set world records for running the mile. He later penned these lines: “You will never reach any higher than you aim, so set your goals high, then endeavor to reach them with honor and integrity—and never give up.”³

But not all physical limitations are overcome in a similar way. Not all victories are marked by achievements in sports.

In 1921, while enjoying the new heights of a promising political career, a thirty-nine-year-old man contracted the dreaded disease known as polio and became paralyzed from the waist down.

He was devastated. Just one year earlier, he had campaigned for the vice presidency of the United States. And now—what? How could he face down political opponents from a wheelchair? How could he face the world? How could he move forward?

The man was Franklin D. Roosevelt. And in his book Looking Forward, he offered this profound insight: “There are many ways of going forward, but only one way of standing still.”⁴

Determined to move forward, Roosevelt continued to pursue his political dreams, eventually becoming president of the United States, elected to an unprecedented four terms, during which he led the United States through the Great Depression and World War II.

Consider the incredible irony! Confined to a wheelchair though he was, here was a man who stood tall during a time of great trouble and stood against the evil of Nazi Germany.

If you feel confined by your physical limitations, search for ways in which you can move forward. Let your faith in yourself overpower your doubts. For as President Roosevelt wrote, “The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today. Let us move forward with strong and active faith.”⁵

A Guide for

Economic Limitations

“But people like President Roosevelt were rich and privileged!” you might say. “They came from wealthy families and had access to a host of resources and connections. I could never do the things that they’ve done because I’m not rich or well-known. I’m a nobody.”

If you believe that you can’t move forward because you lack economic resources, then I would introduce you to a boy named Ben. Born in 1706, he was the fifteenth child of an impoverished candle and soap maker. Ben attended school for about two years but did not graduate. With no connections other than their own, Ben’s parents sent him to become an apprentice to his brother James, a printer.

Ben worked for James for about five years, learning everything he could about the trade, reading books, and formulating his own thoughts and opinions. After being denied the opportunity to publish his own writings, Ben developed a pen name (Mrs. Silence Dogood) and submitted them anonymously to the newspaper (i.e., to his brother). Surprisingly, James not only enjoyed what “Mrs. Dogood” had written but decided to publish it. Mrs. Dogood’s letters became very popular, filling young Ben with confidence in his own abilities.

At age seventeen, he ran away to Philadelphia. There, broke and homeless, he worked several odd jobs, all of them in the field of printing and publication. With his aim fixed on becoming a master in the publishing world, Benjamin Franklin quickly rose to the top level of society. His success in publishing led him to many other accomplishments, and within his lifetime, this once- impoverished child became the first ambassador of the United States, a man who was as comfortable in the presence of royalty as he was in the presence of merchants and farmers.

The life and writings of this candle-maker’s son help light the way forward. Among his many wise words is this simple yet powerful sentence: “Instead of cursing the darkness, light a candle.”

At any point in his life, Franklin could have “cursed the darkness” and given up. “I’m too poor,” he could have said. “I’m a nobody,” he could have thought. “I don’t have any education, experience, or connections. I can’t do this!” he could have exclaimed.

But instead of cursing the darkness, Franklin lit a candle and continued to move forward—step by step. Countless are the men and women who used what little resources they had to create overwhelming opportunities.

However, I feel that a word of caution should accompany Benjamin Franklin’s story of success: “Money has never made man happy, nor will it,” said he. “There is nothing in its nature to produce happiness. The more of it one has, the more one wants.”

Money, and the want of it, carries as much potential to damn as it does to enable. There are, of course, far more important things than financial gain—things like family and close, healthy relationships.

Furthermore, financial gain is one of the quickest ways to induce the envy of others. Which is probably why Franklin said, “If a man empties his [money] into his head, no one can take it from him.” Meaning, as we pursue financial liberation and security, we should invest a sizable portion of that money into educational opportunities. For “an investment in knowledge pays the best interest.”

A Guide for

Educational Limitations

But perhaps you feel that your educational background is your stumbling block. Perhaps you feel that you’ve had a poor education or that it’s too late for you to start learning something new. You might even be tempted to think that your limited knowledge prohibits you from making meaningful contributions.

Two guides will obliterate that kind of thinking.

If you feel damned by a poor educational background, then I would introduce you to Frederick Douglass, an escaped slave who went on to become one of America’s greatest authors and orators, and a leader of the abolitionist movement.

After Frederick was taught the alphabet at age twelve, his owner disapproved any more education for him, believing that if a slave learned how to read, he would desire freedom. It seems that he and Frederick shared this belief. “Knowledge is the pathway from slavery to freedom,” he would later say; and following this pathway, he taught himself—in secret—how to read and write.

His pursuit of knowledge, in the face of overwhelming obstacles, paved the way for the literal and intellectual freedom of millions—both black and white.

But if you feel that it’s too late for you to learn something new, I would introduce you to Helen Keller. When she was nineteen months old, she contracted an illness that left her both deaf and blind. For the next six years of her life, Helen lived in a wordless world, unable to understand that every object she encountered had a corresponding name. In 1887, a dedicated teacher by the name of Anne Sullivan was hired by the Kellers to instruct Helen in communicating through sign language. To do this, Anne identified objects by signing individual words into Helen’s hand.

Unable to grasp the purpose behind motions being forced into her hand, Helen grew so frustrated with her instructor that she broke her doll. Then, one day, Helen suddenly realized that the sign language spelling the word water in her hand was a symbol for the idea of the water that was running down her other hand.

After this breakthrough in communication, Helen nearly exhausted Anne, demanding to know the names of all the other objects in her world.

Even though she had lost some of her most valuable, formative years of learning, the floodgates of Helen’s mind had opened, and knowledge began to pour in. She went on to earn a bachelor’s degree and then become a political activist, a lecturer, and a prolific author. Her persistence in spite of her perceived “limitations” still serves as an inspiration to millions. After accomplishing what many would deem impossible, Helen Keller wrote this: “Be of good cheer. Do not think of today’s failures, but of the success that may come tomorrow. You have set yourselves a difficult task, but you will succeed if you persevere; and you will find a joy in overcoming obstacles. Remember, no effort that we make to attain something beautiful is ever lost.”¹

A Guide for

Mental and Emotional Struggles

But suppose your struggle is much deeper than past mistakes, or than physical, economic, or educational problems. Perhaps you struggle with a mental illness or emotional struggles. Perhaps you’re overwhelmed with intense feelings of fear and doubt. Maybe all you want to do is give up.

If that’s the case, then I would introduce you to one of my own personal guides. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about him and look to his example. (Indeed, I have a large poster of him in my office.)

My guide through life has been, and will ever be, Sir Winston Churchill (1874–1965), the former prime minister of the United Kingdom. His active and steadfast resistance to Adolf Hitler, and his vehement refusal to even consider defeat, helped inspire his nation to victory against Nazi Germany. His strength of character and his determination to never give up—even in the most dire circumstances—has made him one of the greatest leaders the world has ever known.

But despite all his accomplishments, Churchill struggled with what he called “the black dog” of depression. In studying his life—his victories and defeats, his emotional obstacles and personal challenges—I am perpetually amazed by his indomitable will to fight his way forward.

Of his battle with depression, psychiatrist Anthony Storr said this: “Only a man who knew what it was to discern a gleam of hope in a hopeless situation, whose courage was beyond reason, and whose aggressive spirit burned at its fiercest when he was hemmed in and surrounded by enemies, could have given emotional reality to the words of defiance which rallied and sustained us [during World War II].”¹

In a speech delivered to the House of Commons on June 4, 1940, Churchill rallied his beleaguered nation with these words: “We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”²

Consider the context of these lines: not only was Churchill leading the charge against Nazi Germany, but also he was simultaneously leading the charge against his own personal depression.

With this in mind, one of his most famous phrases has even more power: “Never give in—never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.”³

I’d like to pause here and be completely candid with you. While writing this book, I have felt discouraged many times. The process of creating it has brought to mind many thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Some of those experiences have been good ones, but most of them have been very difficult to remember. Writing this book has made me feel despondent, depressed, insecure, and insufficient. After all, who am I? Who am I that the world should care what I have to say?

But in these moments of self-doubt, I have looked to my poster of Churchill. He doesn’t look back at me. Instead, he looks forward, into some distant horizon, as if to say, “Never give in. Keep moving forward.”

Throughout my life, I have looked to that stubborn, iron-willed prime minister, and he has always inspired me forward. And although he passed away more than twenty years before I was born, his example continues to influence my life.

The men and women we revere the most are the individuals who refused to be a victim of their circumstances; they took responsibility for how they reacted to the things that were given to them. By taking responsibility for their life, these individuals were able to transcend their circumstances in a most beautiful way.

Find the guide that will lead you forward on your path. Often, if we are determined to move forward, the painful opposition we face in life is the very thing that will make us stronger.

Liberation

In all my talk of damnation and hell, I would miss the mark if I didn’t write about liberation and heaven.

The author Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804–1864) was a brilliant American author who often wrestled to find deeper meanings in religious symbolism. In his classic works such as The Scarlet Letter, The House of the Seven Gables, and Young Goodman Brown, Hawthorne demonstrates a clear understanding of how people can damn and liberate themselves.

In one of his lesser-known stories, “The Man of Adamant: An Apologue,” Hawthorne tells of Richard Digby, a selfish man whose “plan of salvation was so narrow, that, like a plank in a tempestuous sea, it could avail no sinner but himself.”

So fixated on his own salvation was Richard Digby that he abandoned his community and traveled into “the dreariest depths of the forest.” After journeying “three days and two nights, [he] came, on the third evening, to the mouth of a cave.”

There, he declared, “Here my soul will be at peace; for the wicked will not find me.… Of a truth, the only way to Heaven leadeth through the narrow entrance of this cave—and I alone have found it!”

Dark and gloomy though it was, the cave contained an almost magical secret. The water that dripped from its ceilings “seemed to possess the power of converting what it bathed to stone. The fallen leaves and sprigs of foliage, which the wind had swept into the cave, and the little feathery shrubs, rooted near the threshold, were not wet with a natural dew, but had been embalmed by this wondrous process.”

Hawthorne reveals to the reader that Richard had, prior to leaving his community, “contracted a disease, for which no remedy was written in their medical books. It was a deposition of calculous particles within his heart, caused by an obstructed circulation of the blood, and unless a miracle should be wrought for him, there was danger that the malady might act on the entire substance of the organ, and change his fleshly heart to stone [emphasis added]. Many, indeed, affirmed that the process was already near its consummation.”

Disbelieving his deadly diagnosis, Richard moved into the “tomb-like” cave and “allayed his thirst with now and then a drop of moisture from the roof, which, had it fallen anywhere but on his tongue, would have been congealed into a pebble.”

For three days, he lived in the cave, “eating herbs and roots, drinking his own destruction, sleeping, as it were, in a tomb, and awaking to the solitude of death.”

Towards the end of the third day, he was greeted at the mouth of the cave by a young woman named Mary Goffe. “She had been a convert to his preaching of the word in England, before he yielded himself to that exclusive bigotry, which now enfolded him with such an iron grasp, that no other sentiment could reach his bosom.” Mary looked on Richard with “a mild and pitying expression, such as might beam from an angel’s eyes.”

Richard commanded her to leave, but she would not. She told him that she heard “a grievous distemper had seized upon his heart; and a great Physician hath given [her] the skill to cure it.”

Once again, Richard commanded her to leave, but “[a]ll her zeal was for his welfare.”

“‘Come back with me!’ she exclaimed, clasping her hands—‘Come back to thy fellow men; for they need thee, Richard; and thou has tenfold need of them [emphasis added]. Stay not in this evil den; for the air is chill, and the damps are fatal; nor will any, that perish within it, ever find the path to Heaven.’”

Richard ignored her, opened up his Bible, and fixed his eyes on the page. “The [shadow of night] had now grown so deep, where he was sitting, that he made continual mistakes in what he read, converting all that was gracious and merciful into denunciations of vengeance and unutterable woe, on every created being but himself.”

With an “unselfish sorrow,” Mary Goffe hastened to a bright fountain and scooped a portion of its water into a cup of birchen bark. She returned to the cave, knelt at the feet of Richard, and offered him the cup of water.

“[D]rink of this hallowed water, be it but a single drop! Then, make room for me by thy side [emphasis added].… Do this, and thy stony heart shall become softer than a babe’s, and all will be well.”

But Richard, in utter abhorrence of the proposal…eyed her with such a fixed and evil frown, that he looked less like a living man than a marble statue, wrought by some dark- imagined sculptor to express the most repulsive mood that human features could assume.

With hatred in his heart, Richard knocked the cup out of her hand, “thus rejecting the only medicine that could have cured his stony heart.…

“Tempt me no more, accursed woman,” exclaimed he, still with his marble frown, “lest I smite thee down also! What has thou to do with my Bible?—what with my prayers?—what with my heaven [emphasis added]?”

No sooner had he spoken these dreadful words, than Richard Digby’s heart ceased to beat; while—so the legend says—the form of Mary Goffe melted into the last sunbeams, and returned from the sepulchral cave to heaven. For Mary Goffe had been buried in an English churchyard, months before; and either it was her ghost that haunted the wild forest, or else a dreamlike spirit, typifying pure Religion.¹

The tragic story of Richard Digby illustrates a profound truth: the ultimate form of damnation comes to us when we choose to isolate ourselves from others. For just as isolation contains some terrible, damning magic that ended Richard Digby’s life, there is a wonderful, liberating magic that comes from serving and loving others.

Every day, we are confronted with situations that invite us to leave the cold and callous confinement of our caves and exercise our humanity for the welfare of others. Life is filled with innumerable Mary Goffes. They come to us not as angels but as everyday, seemingly average people.

The venerable C. S. Lewis put it this way: “There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.”²

Like Mary Goffe, these immortals reach out to us every day, asking us to “make room for [them]” and offering us the only medicine that can cure our stony hearts: “Come back to thy fellow men; for they need thee…and thou has tenfold need of them.”

For if hell is cold, dark, and lonely, then surely heaven is warm, bright, and filled with life! The quickest and surest way out of our own personal hell is to reach out and help someone who is suffering—for in lifting another person, we also lift ourselves.

In A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, this is the lesson that the ghost of Jacob Marley tried so desperately to teach Ebenezer Scrooge. While Jacob lamented the opportunities he had lost to help his fellow man, Scrooge tried to comfort his friend by telling him that he had been “always a good man of business.…

“‘Business!’ cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. ‘Mankind was my business [emphasis added]. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business.’”³

Heaven, it seems, is populated by people like Mary Goffe: women and men who have a zeal for the welfare of others. According to the Gnostic Gospel of Philip, “In this world, the slaves serve the free. In the Kingdom of Heaven, the free will minister to the slaves.” As strange as it may seem to you and me, loving service is the only path to true freedom.

In this book, I have offered you numerous examples of individuals who moved beyond their own “personal damnations.” I have detailed their difficulties and described their victories.

But to be honest, I care less about those who are lifted up by society and more about those who lift up society. I am less impressed with their accomplishments and more impressed with what they did for those who were struggling to move forward.

The very nature of a guide is to lead someone else forward. The guides that I have shared with you aren’t guides because of what they did for themselves—they’re guides because of what they did for others.

After setting numerous world records in running, Glenn Cunningham was ideally poised to make a small fortune through product endorsements and a lecture circuit. Instead, he and his wife, Ruth, bought 840 acres of land and opened a youth ranch dedicated to providing farm work and animal husbandry as therapy for troubled children. Glenn and Ruth devoted the remainder of their lives—thirty years—to helping thousands of at-risk youth.

In 1927, nearly six years after being paralyzed by polio, Franklin D. Roosevelt organized the Warm Springs Foundation, in Warm Springs, Georgia. His foundation helped create the first hospital dedicated to treating polio patients and became instrumental in the fight against the dreaded disease. As often as his duties allowed, Roosevelt dedicated much of his time and energy to helping those who had been stricken by polio, offering them hope and encouragement. Tender and heartwarming are the pictures of him among the patients of Warm Springs. It was there, in 1945, that FDR suffered a major stroke and died—among the people he had loved and served.

Frederick Douglass escaped the bondage of slavery and dedicated his life to liberating others. Helen Keller became a political activist and campaigned for labor rights and women’s suffrage.

But this cycle of service isn’t limited to the historically famous. I know women who were abused as children but refuse to remain the victims of their abusers. Instead, they offer hope, help, and guidance to others in similar situations, and actively work to prevent the abuse of other children.

I know a man who, when he was a child, was beaten by his father and eventually placed in foster care. He has refused to remain a victim of his father’s negligence and abuse and has chosen instead to become a loving husband and a caring father.

I know a young woman who was born with cerebral palsy, which severely limited her ability to walk. But she went on to chase her dreams and earn a degree, and she currently works in the district attorney’s office in a large city. In recent years, she has been contacted by numerous groups and organizations to speak and motivate others to move forward.

I’m not asking you to do great, historically significant deeds. I’m asking you to do very simple things. For, like small seeds, small deeds can make a big difference.

Benjamin Franklin rose from extreme poverty to become one of America’s wealthiest people—but he never forgot his roots. America’s first ambassador was prodigiously charitable. In fact, he essentially invented the concept of “paying it forward.” In a letter to Benjamin Webb, Franklin wrote this:

I do not pretend to give such a deed; I only lend it to you. When you…meet with another honest Man in similar Distress, you must pay me by lending this Sum to him; enjoining him to discharge the Debt by a like operation, when he shall be able, and shall meet with another opportunity. I hope it may thus go thro’ many hands, before it meets with a Knave that will stop its Progress. This is a trick of mine for doing a deal of good with a little money.⁴

Do you think Benjamin Franklin ever imagined that the concept of paying it forward would still be in use today? Probably not. It was a small, seemingly simple act of service that has snowballed into an unstoppable force for good.

Never doubt your capacity to do good in the world. Never doubt that your contributions, however small, will make a difference.

In my book Your Life Isn’t for You, I wrote about how seemingly small things can make a big difference: “I once heard someone compare our lives to the wheel of a wagon. He said that when we are at the top of the wheel, we should reach down and lift those who are below us. Then, when they reach the top, they will reach out and lift us. This is the only way in which we can truly move forward in life—by reaching out and lifting another.”⁵

Abandon the idea that you will forever be the victim of the things that have happened to you. Choose to be a victor. Embrace that belief, and the frozen lake of your situation will begin to thaw, and you will find a way out. And as you continue to move forward, reach out and lift someone else. For as we lift and inspire other people, we also lift ourselves, and the truest measure of our own freedom is demonstrated by our dedication to liberate and lift others.

As you do so, you will be walking in the footsteps of those heroic guides who have gone before. Continue moving onward and upward, and you will find yourself in the liberating light of heaven.