103 Sermon Illustrations on Perspective

Over and over again during his 72-day ordeal in the Andes, Nando Parrado would tell himself, “I am already dead, I am already dead.” That mantra allowed him to vanquish the fear that gripped him — and perhaps also explains why, when given a miraculous second chance at life, he has lived ever since with such gusto.

Mr. Parrado, 56, is perhaps the best known of the 16 survivors of the crash of an Uruguayan Air Force plane in the Andes Mountains in October 1972, as it was carrying his rugby team to a match in Chile. Mr. Parrado’s mother and younger sister were among those who died there in the Andes, his sister succumbing to injuries and cold as he held her in his arms. It was he who, with a single companion, trekked through the harsh cordillera with virtually no supplies or protection and eventually guided rescuers back to the crash site to save his friends and teammates.

Since that deliverance, chronicled in the best-selling book “Alive” and a subsequent movie, Mr. Parrado has been a race car driver, television host, motivational speaker, business entrepreneur and, most recently, author of a book called “Miracle in the Andes.” But no matter what he does, he says, his actions are guided by the lessons he learned and the conversations about life, death, God and religion that took place during his struggle to survive.

“We were lucky, extremely lucky,” he said. “We didn’t have any food, clothes or water, and they weren’t searching for us. So how could we survive? I lost everything, my family, friends and future, but I was resurrected. I came back to life from the grave.”

After the ordeal, Parrado became a successful businessman in Uruguay. But in 2001 and 2002 this country was drawn into the financial crisis that struck its much larger neighbor, Argentina, with banks and businesses collapsing. Mr. Parrado’s friends and partners were frantic, spending sleepless nights worrying their companies would not survive, and marveled at his composure.

“Those endless nights in the Andes were terribly, terribly, terribly cold, and so we burned all the money we had,” he said. “I can tell you that a $1 bill burns in the same amount of time as a $100 bill.”

Storm clouds gather. Problem is, they’re the wrong kind. We need rain desperately, but those clouds hold no rain. We need refreshment and renewal, a kind of inner relief. Like you feel when a sudden cloud cover blocks the burning rays of the sun and blows a cool breeze across the back of your neck. But the storm clouds I refer to bring no such relief.

These clouds are depressing, not unlike the kind Winston Churchill described in his first (of six) volumes on World War II, which he published in March of 1948 on the heels of that awful conflict. Interestingly, he titled that initial volume, THE GATHERING STORM. I cannot forget this terse, apt description of those months prior to the Nazi blitzkrieg which ultimately leveled much of London: “the future was heavy with foreboding.” Then, in eloquent brevity, the Prime Minister remembered the Fuhrer’s coming into power: “mighty forces were adrift; the void was open, and into that void after a pause there strode a maniac of ferocious genius, the repository and expression of the most virulent hatreds that have ever corroded the human breast — Corporal Hitler.1

Around the world today, men with similar traits direct their power-hungry dictatorships or uprisings with the same illogical sadism and cruel determination. What will happen next is anybody’s guess, which only darkens the harsh clouds about us.

Storm clouds without rain. War clouds without relief.

Then there’s the ever-present gloom-and-doom economy. News of vast industry cutbacks, rising unemployment rates, and all the exaggerated gossip that swirls around business lunches and nightly telecasts spread an atmosphere of grim pessimism as we focus on our own “foreboding future.”

Such clouds not only cast ominous shadows of uneasiness, they breed pessimism. And unless I miss my guess, many of you are paying more attention to the bad news according to CNN than you are to the good news according to Christ Jesus, our Lord. You’re better students of world geography, public polls, and the WALL STREET JOURNAL’s analysis of our times than you are of God’s sovereign hand in world affairs and His prophetic plan.

Lest you forget, He is still in charge. As the prophet Nahum stated so confidently: “The LORD is slow to anger and great in power; the LORD will not leave the guilty unpunished. His way is in the whirlwind and the storm, and clouds are the dust of his feet” (Nahum 1:3 NIV).

Stop. Read that again, only more slowly this time.

When God is in clear focus, His powerful presence eclipses our fears. The clouds become nothing more than “the dust of His feet.”

Seeing above the clouds won’t just happen, however. Not as long as we keep feeding our minds on daily doses of media madness and political pessimism. We need to release our fears and refresh our souls as we spend time in the quiet presence of the living Lord.

When we do, we are then able to get on with life with a lighter heart, better sight, and calmer spirit. We discover again how beautifully the truth sets us free.

I can’t promise that the clouds will be gone, but I can assure you, you won’t be the same. Gathering storm clouds don’t change overnight . . . but by learning to see above them, you’ll change. And in the final analysis, that’s what counts, isn’t it? Not removing the clouds, but seeing above them.

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1. Winston S. Churchill, THE SECOND WORLD WAR: THE GATHERING STORM (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1976), 5, 11.

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Adapted from Charles R. Swindoll, “Seeing Above the Clouds,” in THE FINISHING TOUCH: BECOMING GOD’S MASTERPIECE (Dallas: Word, 1994), 7475. Copyright © 1994, Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved.

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #20940]