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"Elisabeth Elliot: Joyful Surrender" tells the inspiring story of Elisabeth Elliot, a missionary and author known for her unwavering faith and dedication to serving God. Through joys and trials, Elliot's life exemplified the power of surrendering to God's plan and finding true joy in following His will.

Louis Zamperini

Louis Zamperini Louis Zamperini was a World War II prisoner of war and an Olympic athlete who became an inspirational figure and writer. Who Was Louis Zamperini? Louis Zamperini was a World War II veteran and Olympic distance runner. Zamperini competed in the 1936 Berlin Olympics and was set to compete again in the 1940 games in Tokyo, which were canceled when World War II broke out. A bombardier in the Army Air Corps, Zamperini was in a plane that went down, and when he arrived on shore in Japan 47 days later, he was taken as a prisoner of war and tortured for two years. After his release, Zamperini became an inspirational figure, and his life served as the basis for the 2014 biography Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. Early Years Louis Silvie Zamperini was born to Italian immigrant parents on January 26, 1917, in the town of Olean, New York. Growing up in Torrance, California, Zamperini ran track at Torrance High School and discovered that he had a talent for long-distance running. In 1934, Zamperini set the national high school mile record, and his time of 4 minutes and 21.2 seconds would stand for an incredible 20 years. His track prowess also caught the attention of the University of Southern California, which he earned a scholarship to attend. 1936 Berlin Olympics It wasn’t long before Zamperini was taking his love of track to the next level, and in 1936 he headed to New York City for the 5,000-meter Olympic trials. Held on Randall’s Island, the race pitted Zamperini against Don Lash, the world record holder in the event. The race ended in a dead heat between the two runners, and the finish was enough to qualify Zamperini for the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, while he was still a teenager. Zamperini trained for only a few weeks in the 5,000 meters, and although he ran well (he finished his last lap in only 56 seconds), he didn’t medal, coming in eighth (to Lash’s 13th). During the overwhelming pageant that is the Olympics, the 19-year-old stood near Adolf Hitler’s box with his fellow athletes, seeking a photo of the Nazi leader. Looking back on the event, Zamperini said, “I was pretty naïve about world politics, and I thought he looked funny, like something out of a Laurel and Hardy film.” In 1938, Zamperini was back setting records at the collegiate level, this time breaking the mile record of 4:08.3, a new mark that held for 15 years. Zamperini graduated from USC in 1940, a year that would have been the speedster’s next shot at Olympic gold, but World War II intervened. World War II and Japanese POW Camp With the outbreak of World War II, the 1940 Olympics were canceled, and Zamperini enlisted in the Army Air Corps. He ended up a bombardier on the B-24 Liberator, and in May 1943, Zamperini and a crew went out on a flight mission to search for a pilot whose plane had gone down. Out over the Pacific Ocean, Zamperini’s plane suffered mechanical failure and crashed into the ocean. Of the 11 men on board, only Zamperini and two other airmen survived the crash, but help was nowhere to be found, and the men were stranded on a raft together for 47 days. The month and a half at sea proved harrowing for the survivors, as they were subjected to the unrelenting sun, strafing runs by Japanese bombers, circling sharks and little drinking water. To survive, they collected rainwater and killed birds that happened to land on the raft. One of the men died at sea before Zamperini and the plane’s pilot, Russell Allen "Phil" Phillips, finally washed ashore. They found themselves on a Pacific island 2,000 miles from the crash site and in enemy Japanese territory. While saved from the ocean, the men were soon taken as prisoners of war by the Japanese, beginning the next leg of their horrific experience. In captivity across a series of prison camps, Zamperini and Phillips were separated and subjected to torture, both physical and psychological. They were beaten and starved, and Zamperini was singled out and abused repeatedly by a camp sergeant called the Bird, who would tear into fits of psychotic violence. Yet Zamperini, as a former Olympic athlete, was seen as a propaganda tool by the Japanese, a scenario that likely saved him from execution. The captivity lasted for more than two years, during which time Zamperini was officially pronounced dead by the U.S. military. Zamperini was released only after the war ended in 1945, and he returned to the United States. Postwar Life and Legacy Scarred by his ordeal, upon his return home, Zamperini suffered from alcoholism, and he and his wife, Cynthia, came close to divorce. (They stayed married, though, for 54 years, until her death in 2001.) What brought Zamperini back from the brink was hearing a Billy Graham sermon in Los Angeles in 1949, a sermon that inspired Zamperini and began the healing process. He went on to found a camp for troubled youth called Victory Boys Camp and forgave his Japanese tormenters. Some received Zamperini’s forgiveness in person in 1950, when he visited a Tokyo prison where they were serving war-crime sentences. In 1998, Zamperini returned to Japan once again to carry the torch at the Nagano Winter Games. He stated his intention to forgive the Bird, Mutsuhiro Watanabe, but Watanabe refused to meet with him. Zamperini also went on to become a prominent inspirational speaker, and he wrote two memoirs, both titled Devil at My Heels (1956 and 2003). His life has inspired a recent biography as well, Laura Hillenbrand’s Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. The book has also become the subject of a 2014 film, Unbroken, directed and produced by actress Angelina Jolie, as well as its 2018 sequel Unbroken: Path to Redemption. Zamperini died at age 97 of pneumonia on July 2, 2014.

you are not that special - the glory of ordinary christianity

I had a professor in seminary who had a knack for humbling first-year students. He enjoyed showing them they weren’t special, no matter what their Sunday school teachers and home churches had told them. In fact, this professor was so effective at humbling new seminarians, he developed a reputation for it. He was provocative and polarizing. He had his detractors around campus, and beyond. To some, he seemed cocky and headstrong. But others loved him dearly. Not because he walked the fine line between arrogance and purposeful provocation, but because they themselves had been wonderfully awakened. First they had been humbled by his jabs, and it hurt. It was disorienting. But as much as it smarted at first, they came to humble themselves and receive the uncomfortable truth. The professor’s shocking words proved to be the wounds of a friend. He was right. They weren’t that special — not in the ways that seminary students (and most humans) tend to think they are. You Are (Not) Special For many of us, one of the earliest messages we heard, the constant refrain of children’s books, the chorus of our parents (and especially grandparents), and likely even the message we heard in Sunday school, was essentially  you are special . There’s an element of truth in it, of course. You are indeed special — as human, and especially as redeemed — in ways that redound to the glory of God. In relation to the animal kingdom, God made our human race special,  in his own image . Even the angels marvel at the grace we’ve received in Christ (1 Peter 1:12). And in Christ, no doubt, you are  special  to God — through being chosen before the foundation of the world, and then particularly redeemed by the sacrifice of Christ two millennia before you were born. And then you are three times special by the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit. Jesus died for his friends (John 15:13), his sheep (John 10:14–15), his bride (Ephesians 5:25). He loved the church with his special love and gave himself up for her. “God, being rich in mercy, because of the  great love  with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ” (Ephesians 2:4–5). In Christ, you are not just loved but greatly so. And on the human level, children are indeed special to their own parents and grandparents. We grant that. It’s in God’s good design. Also, it’s worth acknowledging that a group of self-doubting humans and saints have a difficult time believing they are special in ways that really matter. They’ve been so beaten down by life in this world – or perhaps they’ve simply found low self-esteem to be a convenient excuse for coddling sin. To be human, and alive, is amazing. To be called a child of the living God by being joined to his Son, by faith alone, is scandalous. Chosen  by God  before you even did anything good or bad! What wondrous love is this? But oh, how prone we can be, like first-year seminarians, to let such specialness go to our heads — to transpose it into ways that serve the flesh rather than the Spirit. Not That Special When sinners contemplate their own specialness, we don’t typically think about our relation to animals or angels, or what it means to be in Christ, or our particular specialness to family and friends. Rather, we often think we’re special  compared to others  — because of our qualities. Our gifts. Our achievements. Our abilities. Bells that ring to our own glory. This is where we need to hear a clear, and sometimes forceful, voice say, in love,  You are not that special . You are not an exception to the basic laws and ordinances of human society, and as a Christian, you are not an exception to the ordinary means and patterns of the Christian life. You are not a cut above the rank-and-file in the world, and especially in the church. You are not exceptional in the ways you like to tell yourself in silence. You are not special in the sense that ordinary, everyday, normal Christianity is no longer essential to you because of your qualities.  You are not that special . You don’t have a special path to heaven or a special route through the toils and snares of this world. Just consider Jesus. He is indeed the Father’s  special  Son. If anyone could plead special privilege, it would be the divine Son. And yet. And yet! He did not cling to his equality with God as a self-serving privilege or ask to be excused from the mission. He did not request a pass from poverty, suffering, or even torture. He became “obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:6–8). Do we claim to be his disciples, yet presume ourselves to be greater than our Master? Inconvenient Specialness How might we discern whether we are appropriating  specialness  in the right places and ways? One test would be whether we tell ourselves we’re special in ways that are easy and convenient for the flesh. Do I presume I’ll get my way because I’m special? Should others follow my lead, without my earning their trust, because I’m special? Another way at it might be this: Do I love the specialness of humanity, and being Christ’s, only when it applies to me, but not when it applies to those I find most difficult to endure? Which gets at what may be one of the greatest indicators of humility: how we view the church. Not the big, universal, capital-C Church — the one that is often much easier to love. But  your  church. The local church where God has placed you. The people God has picked to appear, and reappear, and reappear again, in your real-life story. Those faces. That church. With all the warts and frustrations and inconveniences you’re increasingly aware of. When you ponder the flesh-and-blood Christians you know, and worship with weekly, and share the Table with, do you think of yourself as special  in distinction  to them? Or are you special  with  them? Really Belong to His Body Local churches are wonderfully humbling collectives. And one of the chief ways God roughs up our souls, and keeps them in shape, and prepares them to welcome his humbling hand when it descends — and often brings the very conflicts that are his humbling work — is through really belonging to a particular, imperfect local body of fellow believers. Really belong. Really join. As a fellow sheep. (Pastors too. Humble ones think of themselves first and foremost as sheep, not shepherds. They rejoice not that the demons are subject to them in great acts of ministry, but that their names are written in heaven, Luke 10:20.) Among other blessings, one gift that the messy, often difficult life of the local church offers us, if we will let it, is the regular reminder that we’re not that special, not in whatever twisted ways we like to tell ourselves. We are indeed special to God  with these people , but not in comparison with them. And what the down-to-earth life of the local church reminds us is how good it can be to be normal, and to remember, for our good, that no Christian is exempt from normal Christianity: from repentance, from trust in Christ alone for forgiveness, from the moment-by-moment help of his Spirit, from saturating our lives in the word of God, from daily availing ourselves of his ear in prayer, and from genuinely belonging to his body in a local church. Good to Be Normal Brothers and sisters, let’s rehearse for ourselves, as much as we need it, that we are indeed special, and at the same time not  that  special, not in ways convenient to our flesh. And let’s celebrate that together with Jesus’s church, we are indeed special. You are special —  you  plural. Jesus loved the church and gave himself up for her. He laid down his life for this sheep. Through faith in Jesus, we are joined to him, and not alone. And in him we also are joined to his people, his bride, his flock. He has loved  us  (plural) with his special, electing, and effective love. We glory in this specialness, and die to sin’s temptation to think of ourselves as special in ways that swell our hearts with conceit.

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