|
send
page
 When I was 39, the President of the United States asked me to serve as his special counsel. It was one of the most powerful positions in the world. Every day, National Security Adviser Henry Kissinger walked into our briefing sessions with a worried, dour look on this face and said, ‘The decision we are going to make today will change the future course of human history.’ He said that five days a week, 52 weeks a year.
Looking back, I realize we didn’t change anything. Oh sure, we dealt with Congress, or the newspapers, but we didn’t change how people really lived. It was in prison, where I served time for my involvement in the Watergate conspiracy, that I learned about real power.
I certainly knew nothing of it in my early days. I grew up watching people wait in bread lines, all the while telling myself, ‘The most important thing is for me to go to college.’ As it turned out, I won a scholarship to Brown University and graduated with honours. During the Korean war, I was commissioned as a lieutenant in the Marines. The war ended, and I earned a doctorate in law and started a successful law firm. Soon, I was in politics, becoming the youngest administrative assistant in the United States Senate. Next step: the White House with President Richard Nixon. Limousines waited for me. Admirals and generals saluted. I had everything a person could want. Curiously enough, that was the first time I felt empty inside.
As the Watergate scandal unfolded, one friend in particular was a source of encouragement. But he had changed since I’d seen him last, and I asked him why he was different. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “I accepted Jesus Christ and committed my life to him.� I took a firm grip on the bottom of my chair. I thought just little old ladies standing on street corners talked like that. But here was a practical businessman, an engineer, talking about Jesus Christ as if he were here today. I nervously changed the subject. But I visited him again a few months later and asked him to tell me more.
He told me how he, too, had started out with nothing and had risen to a position of power, but felt empty. He began a search for God that ended in a seat at Madison Square Garden, listening to Billy Graham speak on Jesus Christ. He did not describe him as an ancient historical figure but as the living God who rose from the dead and lives today.
My friend wanted me to pray with him that night, but I didn’t. I was too proud. I was known as the toughest of Nixon’s tough guys, the White House hatchet man. But that night I couldn’t get my car out of my friend’s driveway because I was crying too hard. I wanted more than anything to be at peace with God. ‘Just take me, God,’ I cried. ‘Take me the way I am.’ The next morning, I felt a wonderful peace.
As the Watergate scandal unfolded and I went to prison, I learned—to my surprise—just where the true power in life really is. It was in a little prayer group where two dope pushers, a car thief, a stock swindler and a former special counsel for the President of the United States got down on our knees at night and prayed. We saw men give their lives to Christ, their hearts transformed by the power of the living God.
Why Jesus and not some other religious leader? The truth turns on the fact of Jesus Christ’s bodily resurrection from the dead. I know the resurrection is a fact, and Watergate proved it to me. How? Because 12 men testified they had seen Jesus raised from the dead, then they proclaimed that truth for 40 years, never once denying it. Every one was beaten, tortured, stoned and put in prison. They would not have endured that if it weren’t true.
Watergate embroiled 12 of the most powerful men in the world—and they couldn’t keep a lie for three weeks. You’re telling me 12 apostles could keep a lie for 40 years? Absolutely impossible.
Today, I thank God for Watergate. It taught me the greatest lesson of my life, the paradox of power: that he who seeks to save his life will lose it, but he who loses his life for Jesus’ sake shall find it.
|
