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Leader's Insight: My Little Shark Hunter

Always brave, my son tackles a new dangerous mission. At times, I wish I felt better about it.

Ever since he was knee high to a Doberman, the boy was fearless. Take him to the ocean and he'd jump in looking for sharks. Take him to the mountains and he'd see how high he could climb. One day when he was five, I watched in horror as he jumped off a roof—a garbage bag duct-taped to his back. We couldn't be more opposite, my son and I. The higher he climbs, the more he believes God is with him. Not me. I believe God put us on dry land and says, "Lo, I am with you always."

In his first year of college, he called one night to ask me for money. "I'm sorry," I said. "You have reached this number in error. Please hang up and call your Uncle Dan."

"I scaled a 300-foot cliff today," he said, undaunted. "You'd have loved it."

Right. His father who contracts vertigo standing on a skateboard.

For years I've wondered what God would make of our son. Would he call him to be a crash-test dummy? A professional bungee jumper? Or would he fulfill every North American parent's dream by settling down ...

January/February
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