by Nik Wallenda
“What club are you going to?”
“The one we always go to.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe.”
“It’s very safe.”
“Some drunk could get out of control and…”
“Please, Nik, don’t start inventing scenarios.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. You just have to take care of the children.”
“What time will you be home?”
“Do I have a curfew?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“That is what you meant. I’m not even answering the question.”
“Look, Erendira, I don’t feel good about this. I don’t think you should go.”
“You made yourself clear, Nik. But I’m going.”
A half-hour later she’s out the door.
I cherish my time with the kids. I love playing the part of a clown with them. I love seeing them laugh. I love telling them stories and putting them to bed. But for all the great pleasures of fatherhood, I can’t stop worrying about Erendira. It isn’t a question of jealousy or trust. I know she’s the most faithful of wives. I know she simply wants to do what she loves doing—dancing. Dancing is healthy, dancing is creative, dancing is a wonderful way to expend energy. There’s nothing in the world wrong with dancing. Except…
It’s ten o’clock and Erendira is not home. I start worrying.
At eleven I worry even more. Erendira is right when she says I start imagining disasters. There was a fire in the dance club. There was a gas explosion. A car accident. A terrible collision.
She gets home at midnight, happy as she can be. I’m a wreck.
“Have fun?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “It was fabulous.”
“Okay,” I say, “but this is the last time. I just can’t allow this.”
She doesn’t bother to answer me. Her look of disdain says it all.
I try to back off, but I don’t really understand that I’m being an authoritarian. I see myself as being reasonable. It’s only reasonable that Erendira adhere to my sense of family order.
It’s also only reasonable that, from time to time, we work in conjunction with my mom and dad. When I book an engagement that involves the seven-person pyramid I like hiring my parents. Not only is Mom a great aerialist, but Dad, although he no longer walks the wire, is a superb rigger.
The inclusion of extended family always makes the kids happy. They adore their grandparents and vice versa. But traveling and working with her in-laws does not always thrill Erendira. Mom is no problem. She has a sweet nature. But, for Erendira, Dad often exhibits the kind of authoritarian attitude that she finds objectionable in me.
“You’re asking me to cut out my parents?” I say.
“No, they’re part of our lives and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m just saying on these long engagements I’d rather it’d be just us and the kids.”
“Financially, my parents need my help.”
“I’m not sure that’s your responsibility.”
“I’m not sure it isn’t. They took care of me.”
“They’re strong people, Nik. They’re talented people. They can take care of themselves.”
“Well, you’ll adjust. You’ll be fine with it. It’ll all work out.”
“That’s wishful thinking.”
I wish that all the tension in our marriage would simply melt away. I wish that there could be nothing but harmony. I wish that Erendira could understand that there’s nothing more important in my life than the happiness of my family—and that my tenacious work comes out of a deep need to make sure they are safe and secure.
She wishes that I could see her side of things. She wishes that I could understand what it means to have an equal partner, not a subservient one. She wishes that my need to grab the steering wheel and never let go could be tempered. She wishes that I could let her live her life on her own terms and in her own way.
James 4:10 says, “Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up.”
When I think of the Lord, when I pray to the Lord, when I address His mighty spirit, I have to be humble. I have to think that He is worthy while I am not. I am a broken vessel. It is only through His love that I am saved from an attitude that sees me—and not Him—as God.
And yet the more work I do to accomplish my goal, the more recognition I get, the more confident I become. Because it is through my tireless effort that I am making a name for myself, I see myself becoming arrogant. I don’t like this and yet I know that sometimes a little swagger is necessary.
A new stunt no one has ever done before?
I can invent one. I can do it. Leave that up to me.
Massive press coverage.
No problem. I always have a story the press will love.
Flawless execution of the stunt itself.
Failure isn’t an option. I’ll keep going. I’ll never stop. It’s not in my blood to quit. My mantra is Never give up! I must manifest this mantra in everything I do.
My wife has to understand all this. My wife has to realize that she is married to no ordinary man. My wife has to see things my way.
Ephesians 5:22 says it: “Wives, submit to your own husbands as to the Lord.”
And 1 Corinthians 11:3 says, “But I want you to know that the head of every man is Christ, the head of woman is man, and the head of Christ is God.”
Erendira says: “I can’t stand it when people use Scripture to win an argument. Scripture isn’t a tool to win a debate. Scripture is about deepening your understanding and love of God—not beating down your opponent.”
“I’m not your opponent,” I say. “I’m your husband who loves you with all my heart.”
We embrace, and the argument stops. There are many such moments of reconciliation and peace. But the issue doesn’t go away. And neither does my passion for finding a way to break out, break through, and break another world record.
12
Genius Clown for Jesus
Bello Nock is my hero, one of the greatest clown acrobat/aerial artists of all time. My admiration and affection for him go back to when I met him as a kid. For years I wanted to be just like him. I even grew my hair and combed it in the sky-high crew-cut style that’s Bello’s trademark.
Ten years older than me, Bello has always been an artist I’ve tried to emulate. Like me, he comes from a multigeneration family of famous performers. The Nerveless Nocks are known the world over. Bello’s parents and mine have been friends forever. The Nocks are also devout Christians.
From the time I was thirteen, they’ve driven from their home in Port Charlotte, an hour south of Sarasota, and spent Saturday nights with us so we can all attend church Sunday morning. The Wallenda/Nock postchurch barbecues are a hallowed tradition.
Bello is a blast—a high-energy, upbeat guy who loves to goof off and, at the same time, is a serious daredevil clown of the highest order. His wife, Jenny, is a strong follower of Jesus. Together they’re a shining example of a committed Christian couple.
As a teenager, I babysat their little boy. Whenever Bello called me to help him in any way, I ran. I polished his truck. I helped him clear his property in Port Charlotte. We marched through his land with machetes, clearing brush. I was also deeply impressed by his business acumen. Unlike my folks, who were always struggling to hold their heads above water, Bello’s family made good money. When his father retired, he bought each of his four sons a beefy state-of-the-art Mercedes truck filled with circus equipment.
Based on the Nock family history and his own innovative talent, he had established his own profitable brand. For years he was the star attraction and reason behind the success of New York’s Big Apple Circus.
Bello was always reaching for the stars. Being in his presence, my motivation soared.
Now that I have a family of my own, I feel a bit more equal in Bello’s presence. But I will always see him as a cool older brother. I view him a
s something of a sage.
In 2006, our families are together for one of those fun Sunday picnics. We’ve played games and chased the kids around the yard. We’ve stuffed ourselves on smoked barbecue, fat ears of corn, and homemade pecan pie. The kids have quieted down. The light of day is slipping away, the sky turning pinkish greyish black.
Bello and I recall the great time we had a year earlier when we hung out in Los Angeles and went to the Magic Castle, an exclusive private club and showcase for the world’s greatest magicians. It’s a privilege to have dinner there; to me it’s hallowed ground. It was in this special setting that Bello began discussing his big plans. He never stopped dreaming of new and different stunts.
“One day soon, Nik,” he said, “we should work together. A crazy wild stunt that the world’s never seen before. Something totally radical.”
“I like it,” I said.
“Well, let’s create something together. You’re the guy with the scientific mind. And I’m the clown.”
“Right—except what other clown has ever been called ‘the greatest athlete ever to see foot in the World’s Famous Arena’?”
“Who said that about me?”
“The New York Daily News said it when you performed at Madison Square Garden last year.”
That was last year, an occasion when we couldn’t stop talking shop. This year, though, is different. We’re with our families, have enjoyed a satisfying home-cooked meal, and are communicating on a deeper level.
We’re talking about God.
One of the pleasures of being in the company of Bello and his wife, Jenny, is our shared faith. Jenny is an especially strong Christian.
Tonight we start talking about God. I mention the good works I’ve been doing at church. Jenny listens patiently.
“Good works are great,” she says, “and I’m proud of you, Nik. You have a heart for God. But it sounds like you’re trying to win Him over.”
“Well,” I say, “I do want to be pleasing in His sight.”
“You already are.”
“Does that mean good works don’t count?” I ask.
“Not at all. Good works reap their own rewards, but I don’t think they have anything to do with salvation.”
“The harder we work, the better off we are on every level,” I say. “Financial, psychological, and spiritual.”
“You make it sound like we have to earn God’s love. But the truth is that God’s love is a given. It’s a gift. We can’t earn what we already have. Do you see what I mean?”
I’m not entirely sure. That’s when Jenny mentions a preacher she follows—Joseph Prince.
“Have you heard of him?” she asks.
I haven’t. But this discussion has me curious. Jenny gives me samples of his writings in addition to DVDs of his preaching.
Pastor Prince is a youthful man with longish black hair who does not dress in the garb of a conventional preacher. He wears leather jackets and sport shirts and speaks plainly and forcefully. He’s the founder and senior pastor at New Creation, a twenty-four-thousand-member megachurch in Singapore. His message could not be more direct: that grace is not one of the many gospel messages; grace is neither a gospel topic nor a gospel theme. Grace is the gospel.
He quotes John 1:17, which says, “For the law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus.”
He quotes Paul in Acts 20:24: “But none of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.”
He quotes Paul again in Galatians 1:6–7: “I marvel that you are turning away so soon from Him who called you in the grace of Christ, to a different gospel, which is not another; but there are some who trouble you and want to pervert the gospel of Christ.”
Prince sees the perversion of the gospel as anything that moves us away from understanding the heart of the matter. Grace is the heart of the matter. God gives grace freely. Grace is unmerited and undeserved favor. Grace is shockingly simple. To receive grace requires nothing—no feats of bravery, no acts of devotion, no works of charity. Grace is the very nature of a God, who sacrificed His son for the sake of our salvation. We are free, finally free, of striving to achieve His approval.
He loves us as we are; He loves us in our imperfection. He loves us when we realize remarkable feats and He loves us when we don’t. By doing wondrous things, we can’t get Him to love us any more. Or by falling into sin, we can’t get Him to love us any less. His love is pure, eternal, and, if we embrace it, healing. We don’t have to try to get Him to love us. We simply have to accept the fact that He does.
What a concept!
It’s almost too easy. As a life-long striver, it’s hard for me to change my thinking. As a life-long competitor, I live for achievement and victory. I live in a world where victory comes only as a result of hard work. Victory must be merited. Whatever I have achieved, I have earned. I’ve never lived life outside a meritocracy—the better you get, the higher your reward.
Is that how I’ve viewed God—as a mighty force who must be placated and pleased? Is that the Old Testament version of God that has added to my worldly motivation? Have I been trying to satisfy God the same way I’ve been trying to satisfy the agents who book me and the spectators who come to see me perform? Have I subconsciously mixed up my drive to succeed with my drive to win God’s approval?
If that is the case, I’m astounded. And I’m also relieved. I’m astounded that for so long I’ve misunderstood the essential meaning of the gospel. And I’m relieved to know that nothing further has to be done. I can relax in the bosom of the Lord, knowing that He is both my comfort and my strength. The presence of that comfort and strength is not dependent on me. I am dependent on Him. And my faith affirms that His presence and healing love will never wane.
As a result, I can exhale. When it comes to God, I can breathe easy. He has done the spectacular. He has realized the sacrifice. No feat of mine will ever rival His.
Through my discussions with Jenny and Bello and the writings of Joseph Prince, I have a new and exciting understanding of God. In many ways I feel free. On the other hand, the world is still here—and the world still operates as a meritocracy. The circus world does not mirror God’s grace. Unlike God’s boundless grace, the circus world requires achievement through acts. That world still has a hold on me and, I suspect, always will.
God’s grace is an incredible force of reassurance. But, no matter how deeply I embrace that gift, my view of the world is still rooted in striving and accomplishment. Ironically, my next major accomplishment will be forged alongside the man whose spiritual wisdom has brought me such solace.
Bello and I are about to do something entirely new, different, and daring.
13
Wheeling and Dealing
It’s the winter of 2006 and David Blaine is on the phone.
I’ve known and admired David for years. He’s an amazing magician, illusionist, and world-record-setting endurance artist. He’s also a master at getting press through TV specials and unprecedented stunts. David has forged a headline-making career with one spectacular stunt after another—burying himself in an underground plastic box for seven days, encasing himself in a block of ice for nearly sixty-four hours, standing atop a hundred-foot crane for thirty-five hours, living inside a transparent Plexiglas case suspended thirty feet over the River Thames for forty-four days.
“What’s next?” I ask him.
“I’m calling it ‘Drowned Alive,’ ” he says. “I’m submerging myself in a water-filled sphere eight feet deep. I’m putting it smack in the middle of the plaza at Lincoln Center here in New York City. I’ll be in there for seven days and seven nights and I’d love for you to say hello. Would you mind dropping by?”
“I’d love to.”
“That’s great, Nik. The hecklers are always out in force, so seeing a friendly face always helps.”
&nbs
p; “Talking about friends, I think I’ll invite Bello and his wife, Jenny, along.”
“Bello is brilliant,” says Blaine. “He’s one of the real innovators. You and Bello are the guys who motivate me.”
“Back at you, David. We’ll be there.”
Bello is up for the idea but suggests that Erendira and I first come to Albany, where he’s featured at the Ringling Brothers Circus. From there we’ll drive down to New York City and catch David at Lincoln Center.
Bello’s act is astounding. Of all the circus performers in the world, no one approaches his gift for combining the whimsical humor of the clown with the daring grace of the aerialist. Like Blaine, he’s a huge inspiration. He’s all about creativity and courage.
After the show he introduces me to the boss.
“Nik Wallenda,” he says, “this is Nicole Feld.”
Ms. Feld runs the Ringling Brothers Circus, which has been owned by her family for over four decades.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I say.
“My pleasure,” says Ms. Feld. “I’ve long admired your family. They’re part of Ringling Brothers history.”
“It’s been quite a while since a Wallenda performed at Ringling Brothers.”
“I believe 1946 was the last time your great-grandfather Karl headlined the Greatest Show on Earth.”
“You know your history well.”
“No one will ever forget Karl Wallenda and the family he led with such flair and skill.”
“Thank you, Ms. Feld.”
“I’m hoping that the tradition will continue. I’d love to see another Wallenda rejoin our circus and continue the tradition.”
“That would be wonderful,” I say.
During the subsequent drive down to New York, Bello, Jenny, Erendira, and I talk about everything under the sun. We have a world in common: an abiding belief in Christ and a passion for dreaming up spectacular stunts.
Because we’re on our way to see Blaine, one of the young princes of the spectacular stunt, stunts are on our minds—how to make them bigger, better, and even more audacious.
