Thoughts on the Death of Billy Graham

So Billy Graham died. What an impact this man has had on my life. But not in the sense most would think.

LOVE, is not what came to my mind when I read of Billy Graham's passing. My mind was filled with sadness, longing, and loneliness. A feeling of being totally and utterly alone...and so empty. I have often wondered if that is how I feel when thinking of Billy Graham, how did his own children feel about a father virtually absent from their lives? Were the sacrifices truly worth it? I just don't know. I have learned long ago not to believe the public pictures.

As far as I remember, my father’s involvement with Billy Graham began when I was around four years old. My parents were ready and prepared to immigrate to Canada. All the papers were in place. But then my father was asked to work with Youth For Christ, Germany, an American mission working internationally. And so it began…

I remember lying alone on a bunkbed in a room of an old youth hostel. I remember the thunderstorm. Especially the lightening flashing through the old room. It was terrifying. I was still very young. And very alone. My parents were at a Billy Graham conference. Working there, supporting him in some capacity or other.

I remember my father painfully climbing up the stairs. He had been in a car accident after a being on the road because of a Billy Graham crusade. His car was stopped from tumbling down a steep ravine because of one lonely tree on that stretch of highway. I told my mother that God must have put that tree there on purpose…to protect my ‘papa.’ I was six years old.

I remember praying when I was seven years old. In my childlike way I talked to Jesus, telling Him that I wanted to follow Him the rest of my life. I remember the love and security, the feeling of belonging and joy that flooded me. And I remember going to my mother the next morning, still filled the feeling of being loved, of belonging, of excitement and joy. I told her that I "had given my heart to Jesus."

In the cold, dismissive way she sometimes has she said: "No, you didn't. You did that years ago. At a Billy Graham crusade when you were four years old." When I told her that I couldn't remember that at all, it was made clear to me that this 'conversion' was what mattered. That this was when I 'accepted Jesus' and whatever happened after was meaningless. That this was when and how I became a Christian. It became clear that having become a Christian at a Billy Graham crusade, when I was only four years old, was something special, something to be proud of. But to me, it was totally meaningless. In me something utterly precious shattered. Billy Graham seemed to be more important than Jesus.

I remember my father quickly putting me into the care of a babysitter. A lady I hardly knew. She couldn’t be bothered to spend time with me. She sat me down and made me listen to record after record of Chinese fairy tales. Strange stories of bird's nests and other weird things. Later, when I married a Chinese man, I was still trying to make sense of those stories. I never could.

I remember being in the care of other people I hardly knew. I hated that. Even as a child, I was never very outgoing and always had a hard time with people who were virtual strangers to me. I don't remember where my mother was during those times.

One time was an exception though. This was one occasion where LOVE really stood out: I was with a very kind and loving family. Even though they had children of their own, they made me feel so loved. I remember being tucked into bed and kissed on the forehead. It doesn’t seem like much, but this single show of love mattered so much to me. It's a memory I still hold dear after all these years.

What I remember most is my father being gone so much, preparing Billy Graham Crusades. “All for the Lord,” was the motto of those days. And it was more than that. It’s that when he was home, he wasn’t really ‘available.’ There were two days that had sacred hours: Sunday mornings and evenings were for church. And Saturday 5:00 PM was soccer hour, in my memory just as important as church or his work. The door was closed and we knew better than to interrupt.

Billy Graham reached millions, they say. But what really happened to those millions? Did they stay true to the Christ they committed themselves to follow when they obeyed the call to come to the front? Or were they, like so many others, just caught up in the moment? Where are they today, all those millions? I researched it once and was truly shocked by what I found: it seems that because of the lack of follow up and proper teaching many of those millions did not continue in their faith in Christ. Maybe my research was wrong. I hope it was. Because how sad would that be: all the sacrifices my father made, all the sacrifices my mother, my siblings and I had to make…all for nothing? The question of “Was it really worth it, papa?” I wish I could ask him this question, especially today.

Even as an adult, Billy Graham still influenced my life. He and my father were the reason I homeschooled my children. The father of my children is a full-time minister whose only day off was Monday and who insisted on having to work late every night. I wanted my children to grow up with their father present in their lives, because I knew how much I had missed my father’s presence when I was young. With their father’s schedule homeschooling seemed to be the only way to accomplish that, as his schedule could ‘not be changed.’ It was all a part of “doing the Lord’s work.” And I believed in it and adjusted to it. Because that’s what we do. We, the wives of husbands who “do it all for the Lord.” Like my mother, I learned to be quiet and to adjust. Because “the Lord comes first.” And yes, HE does. But what I would really like to know is how much of it was really 'the Lord's work' and how much was for personal glory. For there is no doubt that being a world famous evangelist has its own form of glory. There is no doubt that being an advisor for several American presidents has its glory. And there is no doubt that having worked with and for Billy Graham has its own glory. No doubt at all. Some of that glory even falls on me when I mention that my father worked for Billy Graham, helping to prepare crusades for him. But for me, this glory is short-lived and empty and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

This is what came to my mind when I read of Billy Graham’s death. A world famous evangelist, who, to all accounts, did much good. But on a personal level Billy Graham cost more than can ever be repaid.