[Congressional Record Volume 157, Number 116 (Friday, July 29, 2011)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1450-E1451]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                59TH NATIONAL PRAYER BREAKFAST--PART II

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. W. TODD AKIN

                              of missouri

                    in the house of representatives

                         Friday, July 29, 2011

  Mr. AKIN.

       Senator Kay Hagan: Thank you and good morning. If I wasn't 
     here, and I was actually back in my home state of North 
     Carolina on a Wednesday morning, I would attend a prayer 
     breakfast with a small group of women at my church. And I 
     have asked them today to pray for you and to lift all of you 
     up in prayer and to pray for peace. I do want to read from 
     the Old Testament, Isaiah chapter 40 verses 28 through 31.
       ``Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the 
     everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He 
     does not faint or grow weary. His understanding is 
     unsearchable. He gives power to the faint and strengthens the 
     powerless. Even youth will faint and be weary and the young 
     will fall exhausted but those who wait for the Lord shall 
     renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like 
     eagles. They shall run and not be weary and they shall walk 
     and not faint.''
       Congressman Miller: Sometimes as busy people we say that we 
     are buried in our work. Our next presenter knows the literal 
     meaning of the term. Along with 32 other miners, he endured 
     69 days half a mile under ground in a Chilean mine. The world 
     marveled at the technological achievement of their rescue.
       Congresswoman Kirkpatrick: Our guest today brings us the 
     story of how God protected and encouraged them until their 
     rescue. Please welcome the man who led those miners in 
     worship and prayer throughout those dark and fearful days, 
     Jose Enriquez. Translating for Jose will be the chaplain of 
     the President of Chile, Reverend Alfred Cooper. [Applause]
       [Mr. Jose Enriquez]
       Mr. Cooper translating for Mr. Enriquez: First of all, 
     greeting to President Obama and all present, government 
     authorities and church authorities. My name is Jose Enriquez. 
     I thank God for being in this place. I have come to give a 
     testimony of what God did in that mine of San Jose. On the 
     5th of August, we were surprised by a rock fall and an 
     explosion, and we had to organize ourselves down there to 
     face this crisis. We had many difficulties, but we were able 
     to overcome them. Organizing ourselves into a democratic 
     community, we voted 50 plus one for every major decision and 
     we went along with it. We realized, however, that we only had 
     one alternative and that was God, himself. We were different 
     creeds and different churches, so I got them all in a circle 
     and began to teach the miners how to pray with participative 
     prayer. We made sure that each one, in his own way, could 
     pray and participate. And as we prayed, we began to know the 
     presence and blessing of God among us down in the mine. We 
     were strengthened and our spirits were revived.
       We had some serious problems. We had very little food--for 
     three days only, we had no water and we had to sort out the 
     jobs like repairing the electrics and the piping. So we 
     decided that, unless we prayed and God did a miracle, there 
     would be no way out. And that became our daily hope and 
     comfort as we began to pray--that He would do miracles among 
     us and solve our problems.
       The first 17 days were the worst, with no communication 
     with the outside world. But we kept preaching the word of 
     God. And God was with us and among us and he began to deal 
     with us and teach and speak to us. He began to reconcile the 
     inevitable tensions that occur in such a situation. And so in 
     this democratic, not secular democratic but praying 
     democratic, community God began to reconcile us together. And 
     so we would get the one with the other and force them to 
     shake their hands and to become reconciled and we maintained 
     the peace and the community spirit down there that way. And 
     then we had the great miracle where the second drill, the 
     first one had passed us by, glanced off a rock and broke in 
     at exactly the right level, at exactly the right angle to 
     enable our rescue. And then of course you know the rest of 
     the story--52 days of surviving down there but now in touch 
     with the outside world. At last we were able to eat. We got 
     our beef steaks that we wanted, and we got all our 
     medication. And then, this was the greatest blessing of all 
     that came down that small pipe, small Bibles, because those 
     fitted. They came down, and I then had a Bible to speak from, 
     and I could preach more powerfully and profoundly from the 
     very word of God. There was one Bible for each man with his 
     name on it.
       There is so much to tell you, dear folk. And finally that 
     day came when we were rescued. And even before we went up, I 
     encouraged them to get on their knees and pray one final 
     time. Some wanted to dive into the capsule and get out 
     immediately. But we said, no, hold it, wait one moment: we're 
     going to pray first. We had that final time of prayer 
     together. I said to them, brethren, we pray to our God in a 
     desperate situation, and he answered our prayers. So now we 
     wish to pray and thank God and bless God for all the help 
     from all over the world. We blessed the capsule and thanked 
     God for the work that so many had put into it--the many 
     authorities, politicians, our very President who committed 
     himself sparing no expense or effort to make sure we were 
     found. And then came that great day when we began to come up 
     one by one--which it seems all of you saw, and the whole 
     world was watching. We felt the best way to express what we 
     were feeling was to wear this t-shirt that we sent to be 
     made, it said: ``Thank you God. Thank you Lord Jesus. Thank 
     you for having saved us.'' And then we came out to hug our 
     wives and loved ones. Glory to God!
       Congresswoman Kirkpatrick: We know of course that the 
     President does not run the government alone but draws the 
     greatest talent from the 50 states to serve the people. Tom 
     Vilsack previously served as the Governor of the State of 
     Iowa and serves our nation as our Secretary of Agriculture.
       Congressman Miller: To pray for the leaders of the world, 
     Secretary Tom Vilsack.
       Secretary Tom Vilsack: Let us bow our heads and pray to the 
     God who comforts us and watches over us. For our world 
     leaders, our prayer is for them to remember and to live the 
     beatitudes. Blessed are the leaders who are poor in spirit 
     for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are the leaders 
     who are meek, for they and their people shall posses the 
     earth. Blessed are the leaders who mourn, for they and their 
     people shall be comforted. Blessed are the leaders who hunger 
     and thirst for justice, for they and their people shall be 
     satisfied. Blessed are the leaders who are merciful, for they 
     and their people shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the leaders 
     who are clean of heart, for they and their people shall see 
     God. And blessed are the leaders who are peacemakers, for 
     they and their people shall be called Children of God. 
     Blessed are the leaders who suffer persecution for justice 
     sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Let us pray that 
     our world leaders do justice, love kindness and walk the path 
     according to God's plan. Amen.
       Congresswoman Kirkpatrick: There may be no more potent or 
     effective force on good earth than the power of story. There 
     are those precious few gifted artists who can shape the ideas 
     in histories of the human struggle into the form that touches 
     and transforms us all. We have one such artist among us this 
     morning. Randall Wallace has touched audiences around the 
     world with his cinematic masterpieces such as ``We Were 
     Soldiers,'' ``Secretariat,'' my favorite, ``Pearl Harbor'' 
     and especially, ``Braveheart,'' a tribute to his Scottish 
     ancestor, William Wallace. We look forward to receiving the 
     power of the words he has chosen to share with us this 
     morning. Please welcome Randall Wallace.
       Mr. Randall Wallace: Mr. President, Mrs. Obama, Mr. Vice 
     President, members of Congress, international guests, all of 
     you here today, it is a great honor for me to be with you.
       An introduction like this sort of covers me with Hollywood 
     glory, and whenever I am introduced that way I feel compelled 
     to tell a story that relates exactly how glamorous I am. My 
     first big break in Hollywood was when I was promoted to 
     producer and sent to take over a television show that was in 
     trouble. The ratings were low, the actors were unhappy, and 
     unhappiest of all was a gorgeous young woman who had been 
     Miss Universe. So, before I went out to meet them, I bought 
     what I considered the essential piece of equipment for a 
     producer: a strap to hold my sunglasses so they could dangle 
     around my neck. My plan was to walk up, say, ``Hi, I'm 
     Randall Wallace,'' snap off my sunglasses, make my point, and 
     then close with a dramatic flourish by putting them on again. 
     I figured the actors would love it. So I walked up to Miss 
     Universe, said ``Hi, I'm Randall Wallace,'' snapped off my 
     glasses and said, ``I know you're not happy. You haven't been 
     given enough to do. But I'm in charge of this show now--the 
     writing, directing, everything. So if you have any problems, 
     you come to me.'' And I snapped my sunglasses back on. But 
     while I was talking, I'd been fidgeting with my tie, and I 
     did this.
       There is no fallback position from that position. A friend 
     told me it may have been the first time in Hollywood history 
     that an actress wondered whom she would have to seduce to get 
     out of a job.
       Movies are arguably America's most influential export--but 
     guys like me don't seem the obvious choice to speak at a 
     prayer breakfast. When I was directing ``We Were Soldiers'' 
     at Fort Benning, Georgia, I found time one weekend to drive 
     over to visit former President Carter's Sunday lesson at his 
     home church in Plains. I asked a friend who knew the Carters 
     to save me a seat, and when I arrived, I found the seat was 
     right next to Rosalyn Carter. Apparently, Mrs. Carter, 
     gracious Southern lady that she is, had wanted to be sure I 
     felt at home. I sat down and Mr. Carter asked the 
     congregation to open their pew Bibles to a passage that was 
     the subject of his lesson. Now I grew up in Baptist churches, 
     and I was familiar with the passage he was about to read. So 
     I took the chance to open the hymn book to check on the 
     lyrics of a hymn I was thinking of using in our film. And as 
     I was thumbing through the hymn book, Mrs. Carter touched my 
     arm and handed me her Bible, opened to the right passage. And 
     I realized in that moment that Mrs. Carter had logically 
     assumed

[[Page E1451]]

     that since I was a Hollywood director I didn't know the 
     difference between a hymn book and a Bible. And I have to 
     admit, it did strike me that I had the perfect chance to 
     steal Mrs. Carter's Bible. If anyone stopped me, I'd just 
     say, ``She gave it to me.'' It was worn with use, marked with 
     joy and tears. Imagine what it would bring on e-bay.
       To prepare myself, I've studied the speeches of those who 
     have preceded me in this position in past years. The causes 
     they've advocated from this podium are vital, and I have no 
     way to compete with their accomplishments or their eloquence. 
     So this morning I'd like to do something that as nearly as I 
     can tell is unprecedented for a keynote address at the 
     National Prayer Breakfast. I'd like to speak about . . . 
     prayer. I'm not a philosopher. I'm not a preacher. I'm a 
     storyteller. Like Jesus. As nearly as I can tell, that is my 
     only similarity to Him. Actually there is one other: I too 
     have cried out, ``My God, why have you forsaken me.''
       I've lived a life of tremendous privilege. I grew up just 
     down the road from here, in Lynchburg, Virginia. Virginians 
     are a righteous and sober people, too proud to tell a lie. 
     But I was born in Tennessee. My father was born in Lizard 
     Lick, Tennessee. The men in my father's family are Alton, 
     Elton, Dalton, Lymon, Gleaman, Herman, Thurman and Clyde. 
     They called Clyde, Pete. Nobody knew why.
       When I was a child I suffered from attacks of asthma so 
     severe that I couldn't breathe at all, and I had the real 
     sense that if I panicked I would die. Grandmother would hold 
     me in her lap all night long, and she would sing to me, and 
     tell me stories from her childhood, and from the Bible. And 
     she would look into my eyes, and she would smile. And I don't 
     look at blue eyes to this day without seeing hers.
       And as I grew older, I found her looking at me in a 
     different way--quietly, distantly, and so I asked her, 
     ``Grandmother, why are you looking at me that way?'' And she 
     answered, ``You remind me of Rufe.'' Rufe was her husband--my 
     grandfather--who had died before I was born. Of course, I 
     became hungry to learn about him, so I asked my father to 
     tell me what he was like, and he told me this story.
       During the Great Depression my grandfather, who was a 
     farmer, decided to open a country store to feed his family. 
     There was no wood to be had and no money to buy any, but he 
     found a wrecked riverboat on the shore of the Tennessee 
     River, and he salvaged that wood to build his store. But he 
     needed cash to buy the stock to sell, and there was one place 
     in town that paid cash for labor, and that was the plant 
     where they froze huge blocks of ice, and men would pick them 
     up with tongs and sling them up onto wagons so they could 
     sell them to farmers whose homes had no electricity. My 
     grandfather was the only white man who did that job; all the 
     rest were what they then called ``colored'' men.
       So his first day on the job, the supervisor, another white 
     man, approached my grandfather and told him, ``Listen, I just 
     want you to know, all I got on this crew besides you is a 
     bunch of . . . Colored men, and I cuss at `em to make `em 
     work. So if I forget myself and I call you an S.O.B., don't 
     pay me no mind, I don't mean nothin' by it, that's just the 
     way I am.'' And my grandfather looked at the supervisor and 
     said, ``I understand completely. And I just want you to know 
     that if you do forget yourself, and you call me an S.O.B., 
     and I hit you in the face with a claw hammer, don't pay me no 
     mind, I don't mean nothin' by it, that's just the way I am.''
       And in that one story I understood exactly who my 
     grandfather was, and exactly who I wanted to be. And I 
     understood the power of a story.
       My father, and mother, worked extremely hard so that I 
     could go to school. He was a salesman who loved his 
     customers, and he rose in his company, with promotion after 
     promotion  . . . until one day the family-owned company he 
     had worked for twenty years was sold to a professional 
     investment group who knew nothing about the business itself 
     but who believed it would prosper if they fired all the old 
     guys and hired cheaper younger guys. My father was one of the 
     old guys. He was 38. I've always wondered if my father lived 
     his life hungry for the father he'd never had; his own father 
     had died before he was born--the grandfather he'd told me 
     about was my mother's father, not his. He had never been 
     fired from anything. The strongest and best man I ever knew, 
     and he had a complete breakdown.
       While he was in the hospital, my sister and I were farmed 
     out to relatives. For awhile, we lived in a house that had no 
     indoor plumbing. When I told my father about that he said, 
     ``Well . . . rich people have a canopy over their beds--and 
     we've got a can of pee under ours.'' And that's when I knew 
     my daddy would be all right.
       The last sale he had made for his old company was for 
     90,000 dollars--in 1961. The first sale he made when he 
     started his next job was for 90 cents. Working one hundred 
     hours a week, he clawed his way back to success. God Bless 
     America. And God bless my Daddy. He told me that I could go 
     to college anywhere--something he and my mother had never 
     gotten a chance to do. I chose the most expensive place 
     possible--and he was so proud. But when I graduated, I didn't 
     want to be a doctor or a lawyer, I wanted to be a writer. I 
     wanted to tell the kind of stories that would let a young man 
     know who his ancestors were, and who he might be. The kind of 
     story that might keep a child alive through a long night.

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