For a high school class project, Rebekah partnered with Wheels for the World and put together a community drive to collect used wheelchairs and other medical equipment for victims of the 2010 Haiti earthquake. Her positive attitude and enthusiasm for life won her many new friends in school. She reached out to people, and most of them responded to her outgoing personality.
But then Rebekah experienced challenges similar to those that I had around the same age. High school is the time when you become aware of your differences, and then you spend the rest of your life realizing how much we are all the same. The teen years can be challenging for anyone, and they are especially challenging for those of us who have disabilities.
When your mind and your body are maturing and changing rapidly, there are chemical changes in the body that also contribute to heightened emotions. It’s a volatile environment because your classmates and friends are going through the same changes. Everyone is trying to figure out how to fit in, where to fit in, and what the future holds.
At that age I came to the realization that there were just some things that my classmates could do that even with all my determination and faith, I could not accomplish. I also experienced bullying and cruelty from other students during my teen years. Even though it usually was just a thoughtless comment or someone’s lame attempt at humor, I struggled with hurt feelings and self-doubt.
Rebekah went through similar challenges. Entering high school brought with it new joys, new friends, and new challenges as well as the growing sense that she was different from the other kids. Most of her classmates were drawn to her cheerful demeanor, but some were uncomfortable around her. A few made hurtful comments or rejected her attempts to be friends.
Those comments and rejections hurt. Rebekah tried to remain upbeat and cheerful, but she began to struggle with self-doubts and despair: Why hasn’t God healed me? Why does He allow people to hurt me? Why do I have to be stuck in this wheelchair and in this body?
In her hurt and disappointment, she also questioned God’s love for the first time in her life: Are You sure You love every person, God? Are You sure it’s not every person but me?
There is nothing wrong with respectfully asking questions of God. As the Bible says, “Seek and you will find.” It’s only through inquiry that we find answers. The problem comes when we let curiosity and an honest search for answers fuel doubt and shake our faith. Just because the answers to our questions are not readily available does not mean they are not there. Faith requires that we sometimes have to wait for God to reveal His plan for us. Sometimes when we ask questions and seek answers, we realize that His vision for our lives is much greater than our own.
Unfortunately, it is also true that life sometimes unloads one disappointment and hurt upon another. As much as you and I might try our best to stand up to these challenges, we may fall under their weight.
Despite her determined efforts to do well in school and to be a leader in her class, Rebekah found herself caught up in a controversy when it came time for her senior class graduation. She had fully expected to be graduating, and she’d even planned on offering a prayer at the ceremony. But because of a technicality, the school board ruled that she was not yet eligible for graduation, and she was not allowed to sit with her classmates during the ceremony or to participate in it.
This was a cruel blow for Rebekah. She’d long dreamed of her graduation day and the role she would play in the event. She’d also dealt with a series of tragic losses beginning with the death of her beloved grandmother five years earlier, followed by the loss of nine friends to leukemia, Parkinson’s disease, brain cancer, and suicide.
Rebekah felt overwhelmed by unrelenting grief. Depression darkened her spirit, clouded her thinking, and shut down her faith. The enemy of her soul gained a foothold. This normally dynamic young woman who’d spent so much of her time finding ways to help others suddenly lost all interest in living. Each day seemed darker than the one before. The negative voices haunted her thoughts: You are such a burden. Nobody really cares about you. They all just pity the poor little crippled girl.
Suicidal urges crept in. One day she found herself staring at the knife drawer in the kitchen and considering a plan to kill herself while her mother was out shopping.
Rebekah’s loved ones tried to lift her out of this depression. Her mother insisted that she go to church one Sunday. Normally, Rebekah was the first out the door for services. Now she did not want to leave her bed. Her mother insisted. She was certain that God’s hand was still on Rebekah. She needed to be in His house, among His people.
Laurena helped Rebekah out of bed, dressed her, and helped her into a wheelchair. They drove to church. Rebekah was silent, still locked into her dark mood. As they entered the sanctuary, her mother reached for a church bulletin. A page fell out of it, an insert announcing an event.
Rebekah’s mother saw a familiar face on the page. It was someone whom her daughter had often looked to for inspiration before her depression. With tears welling up in her eyes, Laurena handed Rebekah the photograph of me and the announcement that I would be the featured speaker at the baccalaureate ceremony at her school prior to the graduation that she’d been blocked from participating in.
“Do you still think God has forgotten you?” Laurena asked her.
Rebekah had often watched my videos, and she’d even prayed that one day she could meet me, because she harbored a dream of inspiring others and sharing her faith too. I’ve often been told that just the sight of me has an impact on people. I wasn’t always sure they meant that as a good thing! But in this case it was.
For the first time in months, Rebekah felt a light come on within her. A sense of peace fell over her, washing away the tormented thoughts and self-pity. She told her mother that she wanted to attend the baccalaureate ceremonies.
After I spoke that day, Rebekah and her mother came and talked with me. Laurena told me of her daughter’s struggles, so I prayed with Rebekah, and we spent a few minutes talking in private. She shared with me what had been weighing on her heart. I understood. I told her I’d been there myself, and I reminded her of one of her own favorite Bible verses: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
“Let go of your worries about your disability, and put your faith and trust back in God’s ability,” I told her. “Put your focus back on Jesus. Let go and let God.”
Why did God create me without arms and legs? Why did He put me in a position to speak hope into the heart of this remarkable but hurting young woman? I look forward to the day when I can ask Him those questions face to face. Or maybe by then His reasons won’t matter, only the results will.
In 2 Corinthians 1:3–4, the apostle Paul said, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”
I am overjoyed to report to you that Rebekah graduated one year later, in the class of 2010. At the request of her classmates, she offered a prayer of dedication. You can be sure she touched many hearts that day and in the days that followed.
She now puts her faith into action through Formed for His Use, her nonprofit organization, and by helping others fulfill God’s purpose in their own lives as well as her own. Rebekah, once comforted, is now a comforter. She offers guidance and inspiration to individuals and families dealing with their own disabilities. By following her heart she reaches out to those who are hurting, offering them the love of Jesus Christ and sharing the message of God’s transforming power!
I’m shaking with cold but also with excitement on the Santa Monica pier in October 2010. I was producing and singing the “Something More” music video.
I loved surfing for the very first time and getting tips from Bethany Hamilton.
In Surat, India, in 2008, during a five-day period, 350,000 people came to hear me, and 80,000 made a decision to have an active personal
walk with Jesus. This photo shows a crowd of 110,000—the largest I’ve ever spoken to.
In a heart-stopping moment in Colombia in 2008, the guy directly facing me explained that he was sentenced to prison for twenty-five years but that his AIDS would take his life sooner. With such joy on his face, he told me that he’d found Jesus and that I should go and tell the world that “this man is free and full of rejoicing.”
On that same trip to India and in the same town, we visited a school. I loved playing a little soccer with the children, showing them how I write with my mouth, and then giving them a mini speech.
I always wanted to see the sphinx and the pyramids of Giza. The Egyptians gave me a president’s access because they knew I wouldn’t lay a hand on anything!
Here I am standing on the Great Wall of China. What a cool thing to cross off a bucket list!
I love the innocent and transparent interactions I have with kids around the world.
In China, I met victims of the Sichuan earthquake, and this young man challenged me to race with him up and down the stage. Speaking to the thousands who lost their world in the earthquake was such an honor. I came away humbled and inspired by their strength.
I had a great chat and hug with this gentleman in New York on the street that’s been his home for many years.
There is nothing like hearing the depths of a soul crying with relief that there actually is hope for her situation … and that someone cares.
We all need hope and inspiration. I’m at a nursing home telling this woman that I’m jealous of her because she’s closer to the finish line.
This was one of the most life-changing days I’ve ever experienced. I spent time with these women and heard their stories of being kidnapped and forced into sexual slavery. I also heard how the Lord Jesus changed everything for them and in them!
I can’t sign with my mouth for too long as I feel my teeth move, but when I do, I know the recipients have a gift to help them never forget a day of inspiration.
My signature move! I love hearing the silence of the crowd just before I get up.
I love Daniel—what a champion he is! I visited his school and encouraged his educators to keep him on par academically with his peers. I learned that Daniel was even exceeding the level of his classmates in several areas.
What can I say? The most gorgeous girl in India!
On February 12, 2012, we said “I do,” became Mr. and Mrs. Vujicic, and were united in indescribable love. Kanae is truly the greatest gift I have ever received, after my salvation and relationship with Jesus! Love you, baby.
SIX
Winning the Battles Within
TERRI WAS TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD WHEN SHE WROTE TO MY LIFE Without Limbs website about her “tortuous journey of self-harm.” She’d become addicted to the high she felt when cutting herself. Her craving for that sensation was so strong that she slashed arteries and tendons, risking her life.
“It was who I was,” she said of her addiction to injuring herself.
In my travels I hear many similar stories, and they are very concerning. Mental health experts say people who harm themselves by cutting or bruising themselves generally are not trying to kill themselves, but too often they endanger themselves. It is a coping strategy, but it’s like putting a Band-Aid on a severed artery. Cutting doesn’t cure or fix the real problem. Those who practice self-harm usually are seeking relief from intense emotional pain that, in their distress, they feel they can’t escape any other way.
Terri and others say their urge to hurt themselves is an addiction because most get an immediate sensation of numbing or calming that makes them keep doing it, even though they know it is harmful. Often they would rather hurt themselves than do more pleasurable things.
The practice of cutting has been described as screaming without words.
Terri wrote of the torment that drove her to seek pain as a relief from overwhelming feelings of worthlessness and self-loathing. Fortunately, this young woman accepted help from a professional counselor. She stopped before the self-destructive urges led to her death.
Thanks to counseling and her own determination, Terri had not cut herself for a year and a half, but then urges began to plague her once more, she wrote. Again, her counselor helped her manage those potentially lethal impulses.
As part of the renewed treatment, the counselor told Terri my story and suggested she watch my videos. In her e-mail Terri wrote that my own journey put hers in perspective.
“If I have learned anything from Nick’s story, it is that no matter how hard life is, no matter how tempted I may be, I should be grateful. I should be grateful for the fact that I even have arms. I should be grateful that I have legs. I should be grateful for being able to type this with fingers. I should be grateful that I am able to feed, dress, and take care of myself with such ease,” Terri wrote.
“Why would I destroy such a precious gift that God gave me with such a horrible act?” she added.
Terri’s story was both scary and uplifting. It’s scary because her history of self-destructive urges was all too familiar. It’s uplifting because she wisely accepted professional counseling and followed expert advice that likely saved her life.
Still, I want to reach people like Terri before they do any harm to themselves or to those they love. I understand their mental anguish, but I know there are much better ways to deal with it than slashing their bodies to bring physical pain. When I contemplated and then attempted suicide as a boy, I was convinced that my feelings of despair were unique. I felt alone in my torment, but the frightening fact is that I was just one of countless hurting people around the world who consider, attempt, and succeed at harming themselves or ending their lives.
Because most cutting and other self-inflicted injuries are done in private, there are few in-depth statistical studies of self-harm, which can include scratching, biting, cutting, head banging, hair pulling, ingesting toxic materials, and burning oneself. One study of US college students found that 32 percent reported having engaged in these dangerous behaviors. Experts on self-harm estimate that 15 to 22 percent of all adolescents and young adults have intentionally injured themselves at least once.
The statistical records on attempted suicide and actual suicide are more readily available and even more alarming. Every year approximately one million people on this planet commit suicide. That amounts to one intentionally self-inflicted death every forty seconds. Suicide has become the third leading cause of death for fifteen- to twenty-four-year-olds, and the rate of suicides has increased 60 percent in the last forty-five years, according to the World Health Organization.
Just recently I spoke at a Washington, DC, high school where I asked students to close their eyes and then to raise their hands and close their fists if they had ever had suicidal thoughts. Nearly 75 percent of the eight hundred students indicated that they’d had such thoughts. I then asked them to leave their fists closed if they had actually attempted suicide. Nearly eighty students indicated that they had attempted to take their own lives. Isn’t that scary?
Those who are overwhelmed by suicidal urges often feel they have no purpose in life or that their lives are barren of meaning. They feel the future is without hope because of their pain, whether it’s due to a broken relationship, a medical issue, the loss of a loved one, or other challenges that seem insurmountable.
Each of us has unique burdens. I understand what it is like to lose hope. Even now, looking back on my own suicide attempt—as wrong as it was—I can understand the thinking of the despondent boy I was then. My lack of limbs wasn’t the problem; my lack of faith and hope triggered my despair.
Since I’d been born without arms or legs, I never missed them. I found ways to do most tasks on my own. I had a happy childhood of skateboarding, fishing, and playing “room soccer” with my brother and sister and many cousins. Sure, every now and then there would be unpleasant poking and prodding by doctors and therapists. Most of the time, though, I didn’t mind the favorable a
ttention my unusual body brought. Sometimes even good things came of it. Australian newspapers and television stations did features on me, lauding my determined efforts to live without limits.
Bullying and hurtful remarks were rare until I reached an age when nearly all kids are subjected to similar torment on a playground, in a cafeteria, or on a bus. My self-destructive urges came when I lost faith and focused on what I could not do rather than what I could. I lost hope in the future because my vision was limited to what I could see instead of opening myself to what was possible—and even impossible.
No one should feel sorry for me. And no one should play down their own challenges by comparing them to mine. We all have problems and concerns. Comparing yours to mine may be helpful, but the real perspective you should adopt is that God is bigger than any problems any of us might have. I’m grateful that Terri and other people find a fresh and more positive perspective on their lives by looking at mine for inspiration, but that is not what I’m all about.
First, although I lack a few items on the standard limb package, I’m having a ridiculously good life. In fact, my youthful self-acceptance and self-confidence did not begin to crumble until I began relentlessly comparing myself to my peers. Then, instead of taking pride in what I could do, I dwelled on those things my mates could do that were beyond my abilities. Instead of seeing myself as enabled, I saw myself as disabled. Instead of taking pride in my uniqueness, I yearned to be what I was not. My focus shifted. I felt worthless. I saw myself as a burden upon my family. My future seemed without hope.
Negative thoughts and emotions can overwhelm you and rob you of perspective. If you don’t shut them down, self-destruction can seem like the only escape because you can’t see another way out.