It’s been an incredibly difficult week for any sane American. Thank God Donald Trump survived that assassination attempt. Human civilization was roughly an inch away from a hellish dystopia unlike anything ever imagined. A successful assassination would have decisively ended American cohesion, the limits of what our nation can endure.

We’ve all spent the past few days watching that horrific yet beautiful clip of Trump rising from the ground, with blood streaming down his face, as he lifts his fist and shouts, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” It might be the most American moment of our time.

But it's also good to step aside and get a breather. Westerns can heal and strengthen us. I’ll give you a personal example.

I had a panic attack a few weeks ago, a pretty bad one. (I’m all better now, fresh from vacation.)

Burnout, basically. Dad life, work life, friend life, family life, church life — all dialed to the max. And then there’s pressure on the macro level: Everything is so expensive, every meal costs more each time, even fast food. An economy that squeezes us all tighter, a culture of constant data and creeping darkness.

Combine it all, and it just wears on a person. I am by no means alone in this.

In the aftermath of the panic attack, after I caught my breath and calmed down, I put on a movie, the 1960 John Wayne Western comedy “North to Alaska.” I had started it half a dozen times and backed out immediately. That day, it had to stay on.

What a wonderful film. Light, spry, fun, rowdy, and so funny. It was the perfect remedy for the haze I was under.

Today's "Wednesday Western" will be a less researched one, because its message is simple: There’s something profoundly special about Westerns. They offer us support in a unique way. They have a glow, an incredible power for an art form to have.

The bar scene, with the giant fight, led to the first laugh I’d had since the panic attack.

Most of all, “North to Alaska” reminded me that these movies that we love are so much more than entertainment. They are friends, companions. In a certain sense, they have our backs.

As I watched “North to Alaska,” it felt like God was saying, “Sit down and have a laugh, get swept up in a good story.”

I apologize if this comes off preachy or too personal. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself or my family by oversharing. I just feel that the epiphany I had is one that many of you undoubtedly know well.

You, the readers, are a huge part of the reason I love writing for Align. I don’t have to hide my faith, the core of my existence, the animating spirit of my writing. If I had to do that, I would pick a different profession. Thank you for letting me be honest about my beliefs.

Where to watch “North to Alaska”

Amazon Prime: $3.79 to rent. AppleTV: $3.99. Google Play: $3.79. Fandango: $3.99.

My little cabbage

Is John Wayne’s character, Sam McCord, naive or lazy? Or is he actually one step ahead of everyone else? It's hard to tell.

There are many moments of subtle humor.

“Well, I’ve done the best I can. I just gotta face him.” Then his entire demeanor changes for the conclusion: “I think I’ll just lie to him.”

“I wouldn’t wish this on a goat, but right now I wish you were Jenny.”

“Yes,” she snarls, “a bullet to the head is always the best cure for love.”

The sound effects are hilarious. Wayne’s character is incredibly pure. And part of the joy of his journey is guessing whether he knows what’s actually taking place.

“Women,” he groans. “I never met one yet that was half as reliable as a horse.”

Every line he speaks, every bit of dialogue, is perfect.

“Why don’t you find the coldest spot in that hot creek and go sit down in it. Then change your clothes. Now beat it.”

There are so many moments of delightful irony, like the scene in the cabin between a smitten Billy Pratt and our confused protagonist, Sam McCord (Wayne).

“Sam, how do you know when you’re jealous?”

“Ohhh, how should I know?” he barks, riddled with jealousy.

“Well, I’m jealous.”

This irony also adds dimensions to a complicated love story.

I didn’t get drunk before … I got drunk after

There are several incredible fight scenes. The long one at the claim: From this, we get the fistfight, under a waterfall, between Sam and George.

Then we have a scene reminiscent of "Hondo," when Wayne’s character Hondo chucks a little fella into a pond.

But unlike "Hondo," "North to Alaska" is first and foremost a comedy. And its specific brand of comedy is so refreshing, more serious than “Support Your Local Sheriff!” but sillier than “True Grit,” with none of its tragedy.

The Good Book says

One of my favorite Christian philosophers wrote about truth. He said that there are three entry points to truth, three cultural pathways to discover Christ: history, language, and art. We find truth through our shared history, our human language, and capacity for art.

Of those three, language is the most important. Whoever has language has the world. Truth is linguistic. It exists in and through language. It is perishable, but it is forever renewable. All life moves toward the word.

Language, the voice of the word, is what allows us to be free. It is what separates us from animals. It is what allows us to connect with one another. We understand ourselves and the people around us through language. The word thrives in each of us as thought. Plato described thought as the infinite dialogue between the soul and itself.

As my philosopher put it, “Language has its true being only in conversation, in the exercise of understanding between people.’’

This entire process takes place through art, as well. Art — including the films that we are discussing — helps us understand ourselves, connects us to other people, and leads us to truth, to healing, to redemption.

You’re good medicine

Something miraculous happened during the panic attack, the reason I feel as though this movie was the medicine I needed. After the worst of the panic attack, I sat down at the kitchen table. I just sat there. The house got very quiet — a rarity in our home. I shut my eyes.

Then I heard my 4-year-old’s tiny voice: “Is this yours?”

She handed me an ornate bookmark that I had never seen. She ran away before I could ask where she got it.

The house grew quiet again as I read the words:

I am with you
do not be
anxious:
I am your God.
I will
strengthen you,
I will help you,
I will uphold
you with
My victorious
right hand.
—Isaiah 41:10

That was quite possibly the most humbling and resplendent moment of my life. I felt Christ’s arms around me.

Apparently the bookmark was in a letter from a church I’ve never been to that my daughter had opened. Which she never does, by the way. And think of the timing, that she would collect the mail at that exact moment.

She’s 4. She can’t read. She didn’t know what it says. And hopefully, she didn’t pick up on how much I needed that heavenly support.

Nothing could have been more perfect than those words, thousands of years old, empowered by the universality of Christ. Imagine the odds.There’s no logical explanation for it.

Another verse explains everything we’re discussing: "Ever since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities — God’s eternal power and divine nature — have been clearly seen, because they are understood through the things God has made. So humans are without excuse." —Romans 1:20 (Common English Bible)