About the Book
"God at the Center" by Luis Palau is a call for individuals and communities to refocus their lives on God. Palau highlights the importance of prioritizing God in all aspects of life, including relationships, work, and decision-making. Through personal anecdotes and biblical teachings, he encourages readers to make God the central focus of their lives, leading to fulfillment, joy, and purpose.
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.
Are You a Friend to the Poor
God’s heart is for the least of these: the suffering, lost, and lonely. "Do you know the name of a poor person?" a young man in his twenties who was sharing about his experiences as a missionary in Moldova posed the question to me in church. His phrase was tricky because if he'd said, "Do you care about the poor?" I might have tossed it in that drawer where you keep all the stuff you've heard a million times and are supposed to ponder but probably won't do much with. When he asked if I knew the name of a poor person he exposed a glaring gap in my Christianity: Whose name did I know? Not whose face had I passed on 21st Street on my way to grab coffee; not what homeless man had I handed a dollar for the paper he peddles at the stoplight; not what anonymous tsunami victim had received an online donation I'd made. Whose name did I know? I was left to consider this very important question because if I didn't know the name of a poor person, I didn't really know a poor person. (This is one of the biggest problems with going to church — the possibility of getting all convicted and stuff.) I always knew that if God's heart was for anything it was for the least of these: the suffering, sick, needy, uneducated, foreigner, lost, lonely — this much was clear. And it's true that these were people I cared about, prayed for, and on whose behalf I tithed, but how many of them called me friend? Who had my phone number, been to dinner at my house, or sat beside me at church? Without condemnation, I had to recognize that I was someone who cared for the poor mostly from a distance but who had yet to intimately involve herself. My first step: Learn a name. In the Law of Moses God commanded the Israelites to leave their extra sheaves, olives, and grapes for the alien, fatherless, and widow — for all the people who didn't have what the Israelites had and who didn't have the means to get what they had. At the end of this recurring command the Lord gave His people an intriguing reason for why He required this, "Remember that you were slaves in Egypt. That is why I command you to do this" (Deut. 24:22, NIV). Didn't God want them to leave their excess food for the poor and outsider because these people were hungry, because they needed community, because they couldn't provide for themselves, because He loved them? Wasn't that why? Oh I'm sure those were all reasons, but I believe God first had to deal with that sneaky mind-set, the one that tries to trick us into thinking that when we step over a stalk of wheat to leave it for the poor we're doing something really noble, plain over-the-top gracious. That we're going above and beyond by giving away what is rightfully "ours." The Lord was staving off this kind of thinking by saying, "Hold your fancy horses. Remember you used to be slaves too! Don't forget to tap into what that felt like." The Israelites were no strangers to poverty, oppression, or powerlessness as ones who had once been enslaved in Egypt. It was only because of God's deliverance they were now free, only because of His goodness they were blessed with flourishing fields and bursting branches. By remembering their once low estate, they were poised to welcome the foreigner, fatherless, and widow, not out of self-righteousness, guilt, or duty, but out of the love God had shown them. Last night I served dinner to an Iraqi couple and their 2-year-old daughter, a family some of my friends and I have gotten to know. I'd hoped that chicken, broccoli, and couscous were safe selections to serve these well-dressed Middle Easterners, though I sensed I may have been pushing it with the hot apple cider. I was going for the American autumn experience, and judging by their first and only sip, this went over moderately. As we settled around the table I asked them why they'd left Baghdad to come to America. The husband replied, "Because there are less car bombings here," and then he broke out into hysterical laughter. (Safwat's a sanguine.) His wife was less buoyant, confiding that the war had been devastating and that they'd fled here as refugees hoping to find jobs but so far without any success. My eyes welled up as she spoke because her suffering was not that of a nameless Iraqi, but it belonged to her, a real-life woman with a name, Rida. As the adults carried on, Rubaa fingered the icing on her cupcake and tapped her shoes on the hardwood floors, just like any other baby girl in a bright red dress who wanted the room to be enchanted with her — some things are the same everywhere. When it was time for them to leave, Safwat shook my hand, Rubaa blew me a kiss at her mother's urging, and Rida kissed my right cheek, left cheek, and then back to my right cheek again (it's that third one I always forget). As we said our good-byes I realized what a privilege it was to know their names, because knowing their names meant I was getting to know their stories. And knowing their stories reminded me in deeply spiritual and emotional places that I, too, was once a foreigner outside of God's kingdom, but because of Christ, I am now a daughter. Kelly Minter