John Walt

I have always loved stories and have studied storytelling for years. As a kid, I read about men who lived incredible adventures and longed to discover the adventure that I would live. I wanted to be one of those great men who stood up to injustice, dared to explore the unknown, challenged the impossible, built an empire, or discovered some secret wisdom. As I got older, I sometimes feared there would be no great adventure for me. I refused, however, to accept ordinary. I didn’t want the white picket fence house, a nice car, and a normal job. The last thing I wanted was ordinary, uneventful. I wanted my life to be a great story.

In my teens and twenties, I got to spend time with political leaders, social innovators, famous athletes, actors, ultra-wealthy businessmen, missionaries, successful authors, warriors, and glob-trotting adventurers. I would always ask them to tell me their story. Many of them had incredible stories of narrowly escaping death, swinging for the fences, challenging tyrannical leaders, relying on God, making millions, winning the championship, losing everything and witnessing the miraculous. Something began to happen to me, though, in meeting all these people and hearing all their stories. I began to see that living a great adventure and achieving things didn’t complete people, it didn’t heal their childhood wounds, it didn’t help them raise their kids, love their wife or love themselves. I saw that money didn’t make personal problems go away, it amplified them. Being famous didn’t bring peace and contentment; it was usually a great burden. Succeeding as an artist didn’t lead to a life of freedom; it often created pressure and stole the joy of the creative act. Power didn’t satisfy; it made people lust for more. I knew there was much more to life than accomplishment and conquest. But I couldn’t fully understand what was missing for these people that could lead them to be so successful and yet be lacking so much.

I found my answer in the autobiographies of Johnny Cash, although it took me years to fully understand what I learned. Johnny is one of the most iconic men of modern history. He was born into poverty and went on to become a world-famous musician. Most people don’t really understand that he was the original bad boy rock star. Dressed in back, he broke all the rules. Strung out on drugs and alcohol, he did some of the craziest things I have ever heard. He was wild, and he refused to be tamed or to fit in. Something in my heart could respect him in a way I couldn’t respect most men.

In his autobiographies, I saw a man who had lost himself over and over and wanted nothing more than to do it over again. He had tasted everything the world has to offer and achieved the heights of success, yet as he became an old man, it was clear that he had never found freedom from his childhood wounds. His lifelong battle with addiction was rooted in his shame from the death of his brother and his father's judgment of him. Although Johnny didn’t write the song, his performance of “Hurt” perfectly captured his perspective on his own life. The line has stuck with me for years: “If I could start again, a million miles away, I would keep myself, I would find a way.”

A few weeks after finishing his books, I couldn’t sleep one night, so I started listening to some of Cash's music. I ended up lying on the floor in the bathroom in my apartment, crying. I realized Johnny Cash, the man in black, conquered the world, but couldn’t conquer himself. Even with all his success, his wild heart wished he could go back and find a way to follow God and overcome the parts of him that sabotaged his life. I saw a similar pattern in all the stories I had heard from all the incredible people I had met and whose stories I had read. No man gets to the end of his life and wishes he has achieved more. I think every man who gets lost in the pursuit of success and accomplishment finds himself in his later years wishing with what's left of his mind that he could do it all again. What happened in me that night on the bathroom floor was that I resolved not to lose my way in life. Cash had let his wild heart partake in everything the world can offer, and it left him broken. That was all I needed to see. I was committed to a different path, although I wasn’t entirely sure what that path was.

What I started to understand that night but wouldn’t see clearly for years, is that the greatest adventure in life is not a story of what we do, but a story of who we become. Johnny Cash was the most influential mentor in my life that I never met because he showed me in a definitive way that there is no other path in life worth pursuing than the journey to become who God created us to be. Everything else is empty and leaves us anxious and afraid with broken lives, broken minds, broken relationships, and broken hearts. As time has passed, I have seen this to be true in so many more people's lives. The adventure we were each born to live is about who we become, not what we accomplish.

Now, the stories that I love and am captivated by are about the transformation a person goes through in their heart, mind, and life. Anyone can run around the world chasing thrills in an effort to hide from their pain. It doesn’t take real courage to risk your life when you can’t love yourself. Gaining power out of a need for control isn’t impressive; it's sad. Acquiring wealth because you are afraid of poverty isn’t noble; it’s unhealthy. It takes courage to heal from your deepest wounds, face your greatest fears, and forgive the people who took advantage of you.

I carry around in my heart the stories I have heard of men who were brave enough to be transformed. Their stories give me courage and are a testimony of God’s faithfulness. I have gotten to witness the moments when a man forgives his father, chooses to love himself, lets go of control, and hears God speak for the first time. That is what impresses me. That is transformation of a heart and mind. That's the greatest story unfolding before your eyes.

I still love all kinds of adventure. I want to continue to travel the world, climb mountains, grow businesses, and build good things. Yet I have found that the stories that bring me to tears and stick with me for years have nothing to do with physical danger, financial success, or impressive achievements. It’s the moments when a man surrenders to God, dies to self, and steps towards his true identity that captivate me.

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