The story of Louie Zamperini is a remarkable story of patriotism, courage, and determination, but it’s not the end of the story. The even more amazing story is what God did in Louie Zamperini’s life through faith in Christ. Click here to see the story of Louie Zamperini’s remarkable life.
After Louie Zamperini returned to California upon his release from Japanese imprisonment, he proceeded to start his life over again. He began running again and fell in love. He married a wonderful woman. Everything looked promising.
Unfortunately, life was not promising. The same Louie that left for war came home.
Louie had nightmares, lived in fear and hatred, and drank himself drunk every night.
Finally, in desperation, his wife went with a friend to Billy Graham’s Los Angeles Crusade. The year was 1949. Billy Graham was a 30 year old unknown. The Los Angeles Crusade launched Billy Graham’s ministry to America and around the world. Movie stars were saved and every night the tent was packed. The crusade stretched to eight weeks.
Louie’s wife came home from the crusade a changed woman. She immediately began to ask Louie to go with her. He would have none of it. Finally, he attended one night and angrily stormed out when Billy Graham extended the invitation. He vowed never to return.
He agreed to a second attendance only by telling his wife when the evangelist said “every head bowed and every eye closed” they would leave. As Billy Graham gave the invitation, Louie stood to leave. As he reached the aisle, he did the inexplicable–instead of turning to leave, he walked to the front.
Louie was never the same.
Later that night at the time when he normally began drinking, Louie moved to the alcohol cabinet as he did every night. But instead of drinking, he poured the bottles down the drain.
For me, the most significant part of Louie’s story is how God made him new on the inside.
Louie returned to Japan. Before he left, he wrote the war criminal who treated allied prisoners with such cruelty. He told the criminal that he wanted to meet with him. He also told him he forgave him and hoped he would accept Christ.
The criminal wasn’t saved, but Louie was.
Louie Zamperini is now 96 years old and still telling his story of love, forgiveness, and redemption.
We have the same story to tell.
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One Response
Great story, thanks.
The sanctity of life takes twists in people’s minds. The twist it takes illustrates who is on the thrown of their life. I could never receive help from anyone regarding funds or major commitment of time knowing what would happen when Mother departed. She wanted to sell and dissolve to for material gain. Yet Mother wanted the story to remain. Touchstones for generations to tell of God’s Blessings, in His people Dwell. Her presence is gone, the attack is on. 50/50 reads the will. Everything on the block till she’s had her fill. I cried for help for years before Mother entered into Heaven’s door. Yet words were passed and money taken, the purpose for the cry was forsaken. No one seemed able to get their head around the purpose of a life beyond their own temporal mound.
CASTIGATE
It’s late; phone rings.
Fire, ten blocks, cross tracks, near Country Club!
Three minutes maybe four travel time; dressed in route.
Mushroom formed as smoke bellowed out big “two-story” eaves.
No Firemen yet. Helmet, coat, gloves and a jump.
Up the trellis and through the window.
The fire’s still downstairs.
Must check bedrooms.
Smoke’s thick, eyes watering, keep glasses on, breath through towel.
Stumbled, an open door, found a bed.
Yes, woman’s in it.
She breaths: shallow, labored; fleshy, non responsive.
Pull her like a sack from bed to back.
Search for a level to breath; crawl down the hall.
There’s the same lump
Tripped when came, now crawled over.
Rear’s clearer; there’s steps.
Down we go as her labored breath turns to moans.
Lights outside; men pull hoses.
Thank God!
Stop at the pool: wet the towel; wipe her brow.
Handsomely turned Iron Gate once jumped, open.
She comes around. Cover with blanket stained nightgown.
She’s in black face, tear stained streaks fill crows feet, she cries:
My baby! Where’s my baby?
Chief’s arrived: Mine can’t go, too much smoke, get the hoses on first!
Back to the pool with blanket and towel.
Wet everything down to the boots & back up the steps.
Maybe there’s a cradle in the room? No.
Maybe in another room? Can’t find it!
Hairy lump on the hall floor; a reference in the dark.
So hot, can’t breath, once wet towel little help.
Glass breaks. Red, yellow, colors of rainbow glow all around,
Paint bubbles, peals, slides down the base board and door frames.
I’m sorry, so sorry… Must get out!
Coat melts into canvas: on back, arms; fell down the steps.
Outside, into the pool, lungs afire.
They broke the picture window. Hose on the flame!
Civil Defense volunteer inside, can’t wait, probably dead!
Sorry… No where a crib, no baby in your room on the floor or your bed.
Only crawled over a dog in the hall.
You bum. You left my baby on the hall floor? You Filthy BUM!
Experience of Fred C. Matthew by son, Frederick E. Matthew, remembered 3 27 08
Blessings