Blind Faith

by Bryant Marcum

Russell was blessed with a kind of sight that helped me see more clearly.

The summer I was 16 we lived in Las Vegas. I was hoping to spend the three months of vacation spending time with friends, but my dad had other ideas. If I wanted to date or put gas in the car, I needed a job. So, along with a couple of buddies, I applied for a summer position with the city.

Both my friends got the jobs they’d requested—one as a lifeguard, the other as a youth counselor at an elementary school. But I was offered a position as a recreational assistant for handicapped children. Like many teenagers, I was uncomfortable around disabled kids. But when I learned that the job paid $1.75 an hour more than my friends were making, I decided to give it a try. I’m glad I did. Besides learning patience and unconditional love, I was taught an especially important lesson by a blind boy named Russell.

Because of his disability, Russell needed a lot of help. And for some reason, he selected me as his helper of choice. Roller skating, bowling, hiking, whatever we did, he wanted me there guiding him through it. Except when we swam. Russell was terrified of water. He spent every swim day seated against a wall by the pool, refusing to go in.

One afternoon I hopped out of the water and slid over next to him. He was alone and seemed to be contemplating.

“What are you thinking about, Russell?” I inquired.

He paused, then asked, “Bryant, do you know how to swim?”

I considered myself a pretty good swimmer, so I exaggerated, “Russell, I’m the greatest swimmer in the world.”

As soon as I had responded, Russell leaped to his feet and half jumped, half fell into the diving end of the pool. Startled, I dove in after him, pulled him out, and laid him on the concrete. He was coughing, but luckily he was okay.

I was upset. “Russell,” I yelled, “why did you do that?”

“You said you could swim,” he replied, choking. “I believed you. I knew you would come in after me.”

Now, I’m not saying that was a smart thing to do. But I learned a significant lesson that afternoon. Russell had faith. He had asked, believed, and acted. He knew I wouldn’t let him drown.

Many times since then I’ve asked myself: Do I have Russell-like faith in Jesus Christ? Do I ask, believe, and then act on those beliefs? Do I have confidence that He can save me from my sins?

Like Russell, we need the kind of faith that leads to action—in school, in our Church callings, in resisting temptation. How do we obtain that faith? The same way he did, through frequent contact and conversation. The scriptures, prayer, and service are some of the ways to build this personal testimony of the Savior, a testimony which will lead to repentance, obedience, and trust in His promise of eternal life.

Illustrated by Sam Lawlor