Heroes. Today, that word conjures up images of sports stars bragging. swearing, or fighting. An other sort of modern hero is the environ mentalist who crusades to save the wolves, decrying the farmer as cruel who shoots wolves to save his sheep. Worse yet are the “heroes” who crusade for “rights” to murder the unborn, the handicapped, and the elderly.

When such examples are forced upon us, should we forget about heroes? How important are heroes? Would it matter if there were no heroes? Just what is a hero?

Noah Webster defined a hero as “a man of distinguished valor.” He defined valor as “strength of mind.., which en ables a man to encounter danger with firmness.” There are all sorts of dangers in this world—physical, moral, intellectual, theological. Traditionally. the hero encountered these dangers and took the right way, not the easy way, out. That firmness of spirit made him not perfect, but admirable.

Look at the list of the heroes of the faith the Lord set down for us in Hebrews 11, None of them was perfect. Yet in some situations they did what was right. and God Himself sets them before us as examples to follow.

I was reared on hero stories. My mom had a knack for pointing out heroes. She regularly called to my attention the he roes in the Scriptures—making sure that I realized that they were not perfect and that when they had succeeded it was by God’s grace. This enabled me to see qualities in other people that were admirable, without falling into hero worship. People could do great things by God’s grace, hut they could also fail. Mom made sure I knew that only God was worthy of all my trust.

Mom pointed out heroes everywhere: in history, in stories, in the movies— especially unsung heroes. But the ones I wilt never forget are the ones she told about from her own life. These were the most impressive because they were the most real to me. There was her own brother, Nelson, who volunteered to go on a hopeless mission in his friend’s place during WWII so that his friend, who had a family, had a chance to come home to his children. Uncle Nelson got a Purple Heart, posthumously, but his friend’s children got their daddy home again.

There was also Morn’s friend, Johnny Willfinger, missionary to Borneo (now Irian Jaya) during WWlI. His converts wanted to hide him in the mountains from the Japanese. In order to smuggle food to him. they would have had to lie, and Johnny would not ask them to do that. His Lord had said, “Lie not to one another.” The Japanese beheaded him. Johnny’s portrait hung in the entrance ball in the church where I grew up. He was very handsome, with black wavy hair and beautifully clear sky-blue eyes. Every time I was tempted to lie as a child. I could see those clear blue eyes looking at me. I still do.

Uncle Nelson and Rev. Willfinger were genuine heroes. But they weren’t the ones Mom taught me to admire the most. They had each made a one-time decision that cost them their lives. Other folks make decisions to be faithful day after clay after day.

One of those was Mr. Charles Witt. Mr. Witt owned an ice cream parlor during the 1920s. Like almost every other busi nessman, he owed some money. When the Depression came he lost his store, but he still owed his creditors. The nor mal thing to do was to declare bankruptcy; after all, everybody else was doing it.

But Mr. Witt took covenant-keeping seriously. Psalm 15:4 lists one of the characteristics of one who would dwell with God as “he that sweareth to his own hurt and changeth not.” Mr. Witt spent the rest of his life paying hack his credi tors. His wife and children had to adjust to a lower standard of living. But you know what? I knew both his son and his daughter. They were my mother’s friends. The son was the most courageous elder in my church. The daughter was my mom’s best friend, and I called her Aunt Elsie. She was an invalid. I knew her for 33 years and not once did I ever hear her complain, not once. I have never known two finer Christians. Their father’s ex ample was worth its weight in gold in what it produced in their characters.

Aunt Elsie had a beau. I called him Uncle Herb. Uncle Herb had a mother, of course. Unfortunately she wanted her only son to take care of her, and only her. Uncle Herb knew she would make life very difficult for Aunt Elsie if he married her. Mom told me that when they were young, Aunt Elsie, knowing she would never he well, tried to release Uncle Herb from his commitment to her. She told him be should “get another girl.” Hc said, “Bosh” For over 30 years he took care of his mother and was faithful to his “girl.” When his mother died, he married Aunt Elsie. They were in their late 60s. Then he took care of her until she died. I told him then that I had always admired his faithfulness. He responded, “I didn’t do anything special. What’s a fella worth if he can’t even keep his word?”

Mr. Witt and Uncle Herb were the best sort of heroes. They had many opportunities to repent their decisions and take an easier route. They never did.

These four men ( three of whom I never met) and one woman shaped my life through Mom’s stories about them. They affected decisions in my adult life. They still do. They “being dead, yet speak” (Heb. 11:4).

I’ve kept up this tradition of telling hero stories with my own children. They know about all the folks mentioned in this article. My husband and I have added a few stories to the collection. At this point, our children have the privilege of witnessing a hero story in action. Their grandfather, Charles Burger, has been caring for their grandmother, Louise, for over three years. She is in advanced stages of Parkinson’s and requires 24- hour-a-day care. Dad has undertaken the job faithfully, patiently, even gallantly. He has set our family a standard of persevering love to strive for.

Do heroes matter? I think so. I know so. What heroes do you know? Tell your children about them. The single mom in your congregation who faithfully rears her children for Christ is one, or the widow who never complains, or the neighbor who cares for a disabled wife, or the parents of the child with cerebral palsy who struggle clay after clay to meet that child’s needs. The list is endless. Talk to your children about these people. Hold them up like candles in a dark place. Who knows but what the Lord may use them to light your children’s paths for years to come.