There are a lot of us who talk about doing "something about it" but far fewer who actually do. That's why we very humbly usher a Dallas business tycoon named Mike Roberts into our personal Hall of Heroes today because the only way he comes to us is by a path of self-made hell.

Mike, age 44, is the founder and CEO of a technology-repair company called Source Direct. At one time he also says he was an egomaniac (with an inferiority complex), but in a story that appeared in Sunday's editions of The Dallas Morning News, we also learn that just under 15 years ago he asked Jesus Christ to come into his life.

So it was, only days after the country of Haiti was decimated by the earthquake, Mike's wife leaned close during church and whispered maybe he should lend his company jet to the crisis. Well, in God's time that was "ages ago." Just several days later Mike Roberts himself, with a bursting heart, landed in Haiti with a team of doctors "to help."

Instead, he told the newspaper, "I inherited a nightmare. God put me right where I was needed, but I sure didn't feel good about it."

Here's what happened. The team stumbled its way to a small hospital about six miles outside Port-au-Prince. There they found total chaos. The very first night the hospital administrators put this man - who has made a fortune restoring order to pandemonium - in charge of security.

Supplies were being stolen. Many who claimed to be sick were faking it (in order to live), five different languages were being spoken. So many people were in the hallways you couldn't walk. A hospital room would have five patients and as many as 10 family members sleeping on the floor - all in the same tiny room.

So our Texan, a "Man of God," was suddenly thrust into the role of "bouncer" and "bad guy." He had to literally throw people out. He had to decide who was faking; who was sick. It meant ignoring the cries of children, angry Haitians - all, mind you, who had no other recourse.

Matt Johnson, a family-practice doctor from Mission, Tex., recalled, "Mike was tough, and he was feared. He was definitely working for the common good, but, as Americans, we often err on the side of getting the job done. Haitians err on the side of patience and kindness."

One night Mike e-mailed his wife, "Today was tough. I came here hoping to be able to reach out and help the Haitian people. I spent my day throwing out those who didn't belong only to have them scream or beg me the rest of the day to let them in. People were telling us they had family inside only to get in and steal supplies. I had to throw hundreds out ... and, unfortunately, I am sure that wasn't always right."

During one heated moment, a hospital administrator accused Roberts of being disrespectful of the Haitian culture. "We're a hospital that serves the poor!" she cried, "We don't want to be known for throwing people out!"

Roberts screamed back, "Well, you can't be a hospital for anyone if all your stuff gets stolen!"

The worst day was when a truck arrived bringing water to the hospital. The masses outside stormed the truck and Mike, literally fighting to protect the water and actually throwing children off the back, managed to save about two-thirds of the cargo for the patients. "I came here to love these people! I wanted to encourage them and build them up.

"Instead I have to scream at them. I have to shove them! I have to ignore their cries for help. Choose whether or not to believe them. I can tell you it sure doesn't make me feel very Christ-like. I wonder how (Jesus) would have done it."

Order was soon restored because of grit and his tenacity. Call it "tough love," or "whipping the money-changers in the temple." Whatever. He arrived as a "go-fer." Within 24 hours God made his a "do-er." You need proof? His jet flew back and forth with soap, shampoo and other supplies. He located three orphanages, all suddenly swelled to over capacity, and, as he intensely restored order where horror had reigned, he repeatedly saw the Jesus he had wondered about, time and time again.

"This place has touched my heart. I'll tell you that. I've been humbled and I've witnessed a lot of love here." Imagine that. Here's a guy once so materialistic, so swept up in "flash and cash" he bought an exotic Lamborghini Diablo (there is a used 2001 model on the Internet right now for a cool $250,000).

But not three weeks ago he was tossing desperate children off a water truck. Like I said, in God's time that was ages ago, back in mid-January when he, somewhat naively, took a load of doctors in his jet to Haiti. Three weeks from now he's going back, taking the wife he met after he joined the church and they fully intend to adopt a child much like he was just forced to toss aside.

"You know something," he told the newspaper. "For a large period of my life I was driven by materialism. My value system was really twisted. The truth is I had never been more empty."

So, instead of talking, instead of "sending" his $7 million jet, he went. He saw. And he "did."

David Roderick, a paramedic from Philadelphia who was the hospital's acting director, is now saying he's never seen anything like it. "It was a wild scene around here before Mike showed up. He just stood there in the middle of the maddening fray and imposed his will on it."

Wouldn't you just love to be standing there when Mike Roberts comes before the big, bulging "Book of Judgment" and, as the Lord opens the book, to hear for yourself as Mike might ask, "That day on the water truck .... Lord, what would You have done?"

By grace itself the story isn't over. Mike Roberts is hooked. Oh, is he ever. He'll continue to "go" to Haiti and "do," instead of just talk. That's why he is today among our heroes. And that is why, on the Day of Judgment, don't you just wish we could stand there when the Master smiles gently across the Great Book and says, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

royexum@aol.com