By Robert H. Schuller
Some years ago I received a phone call from a man who lived in Monte Carlo.
"Dr. Schuller," he said, "we have never met, but you saved my life. I want to come see you and thank you in person."
A few days later, this man flew to Los Angeles and arrived in my office. A tall, handsome, broad shouldered man, probably in his early fifties, he limped toward me, a white cane in his right hand, one leg conspicuously shorter than the other one. A black patch covered his left eye, while his right eye stared upward, unfocused. His companion spoke first, saying, "As you can see, Juan is blind. But he's alive-thanks to you. Juan and I were business partners and friends before his accident. He wanted to tell you his story himself."
Juan shared that he was an only child, the sole inheritor of his wealthy Cuban family's fortune. Fearing he might lose it all under Fidel Castro's regime, Juan sold everything except his large private yacht, which he sailed to Monte Carlo to dock in front of his new, luxurious, waterfront home.
One rainy weekend, Juan and his girlfriend headed to Switzerland in his Rolls Royce. Driving too fast, he lost control on the slick road and wrapped the car around a tree. Seven months after, he awakened from a coma to find that the accident had killed his girlfriend, caused him to go blind, and badly deformed his left leg.
Juan went to bed every night hoping he would die in his sleep. Eventually he planned to kill himself with a revolver on a Sunday morning after dismissing his staff. Once alone, he would turn up the TV's volume as loud as possible. With one hand holding a gun to his temple, he would use his other hand to press the TV "on," filling the room with sound, drowning out the gunshot. Sunday morning came, Juan followed his plan, but before he could pull the trigger, he heard the bellowing voice of a TV preacher: "This is the day the Lord has made! Let us rejoice and be glad in it!"
"Dr. Schuller," Juan said, "those words exploded through my mind and soul. It was like divine shock therapy. I couldn't pull the trigger. I dropped the gun, falling on my knees beside it, and listened to your every word. I could hardly wait for the next Sunday to arrive. I wondered if you'd be back. You were! And you were there the next Sunday...and the next...and the next. In time, I invited Jesus Christ into my life." Just then, Juan reached into his coat pocket, drew out a flat, slender package, and handed it to me, saying, "Thank you, Dr. Schuller. You saved my life!"
I opened the package to find a beautiful gold anchor, my initials inscribed on one side, on an exquisite chain. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. I wear it often, and every time I do, it silently whispers to me the words of Hebrews 6:19: "...hope is an anchor for the soul."
Before Juan found God, he was shipwrecked in the sea of life. However, once he anchored himself to a mighty force-faith-Juan left behind his shipwrecked life to live a buoyant life anchored in hope.
