by Billy Graham
In an increasingly complex and dangerous world, our president and other world leaders need our prayers more than ever. Over the years Ruth and I have sought to follow the Apostle Paul’s injunction in 1 Timothy 2:1-3: “I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone—for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior.” I am convinced our world would be a far better place if more of us followed this mandate.
Part Seven
Reflections
38
A Team Effort
Those Who Made It Possible
Many decades ago, just as our work was beginning to expand, one of the wealthiest men in America wanted to meet me. He got in touch with me through my old mentor from Florida Bible Institute, W. T. Watson. Dr. Watson took me to Palm Beach to meet him.
“Well, Billy,” the gentleman said, “you should be able to put all your time into the type of work you’re doing—revival work and getting the Word out like you’re doing. You ought not to be spending time trying to raise money.”
Then he added, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’m willing to underwrite your work so you won’t have to worry about finances. Would you like me to?”
“I can’t accept that,” I replied immediately. “My work is spiritual work. We are getting about fifteen to twenty thousand letters a week. Most of those letters will have a little money in them, maybe $1, maybe $5. But every one of those letters is saying, ‘We’re praying for you.’ If they know there’s a rich man underwriting my work, they’ll stop praying, and my work will take a nosedive. So I can’t accept it.”
The gentleman meant his offer sincerely, and I thanked him for it at the time. But I have never regretted refusing it.
I tell this story to underline an important point. As I reflect back over half a century, I realize more than ever that this ministry has been a team effort. Without the help of others—our supporters, our prayer partners, our Team and staff, and our board of directors—this ministry would not have been possible.
Lord Nelson, the British naval commander whose victories around the turn of the nineteenth century made him a national hero, once said (following Shakespeare) that it had been his happiness to command a band of brothers. He knew he had not gained his victories alone. That also has been one of our secrets—a band of brothers and sisters committed to Christ and to our ministry, whose support, advice, counsel, work, and prayers through the years have made it all possible. I could not have done it alone.
THE TEAM
Because the name of Billy Graham is usually so prominent in the media, many people cannot understand that our ministry has been a team effort. The dedicated men and women working with us have been willing to do anything and everything. More than once I have gone out to a stadium or arena and found Cliff Barrows, Grady Wilson, Charlie Riggs, or Walter Smyth putting chairs in place. Once I discovered one of our senior Crusade directors cleaning the toilet in the men’s restroom shortly before a service.
The central core of our Team has been with us almost since the beginning. I will never be able to repay the debt I owe them for their friendship and their sacrifice over the years. Cliff Barrows, Grady Wilson, Walter Smyth, George Wilson, Bev Shea, Tedd Smith, Esther LaDow, Charlie Riggs, Russ Busby, T.W. Wilson—each has been with me for at least three decades. In the case of Grady—now gone to be with the Lord—and his brother T.W., the ties reach back to our youth. Many others in the BGEA have been with us almost as long; like Grady, some (such as Willis Haymaker) have gone on to Heaven.
In order to do whatever needed to be done, they have subordinated their personal privileges, reordered their priorities, accepted disappointments and endless changes in schedule, stretched their patience, absorbed criticism, and exhausted their energy. They were the Heaven-sent ones who propped me up when I was sagging and often protected me from buffetings that would have scared me or scarred me otherwise. They did not back away from correcting me when I needed it or counseling me with their wisdom when I faced decisions. I’m convinced that without them, burnout would have left me nothing but a charred cinder within five years of the 1949 Los Angeles Crusade.
Grady Wilson
As long as I live, I will miss having Grady Wilson at my side. From the beginning of our friendship, he was my God-given balance wheel. He left the pastorate to join Cliff and me in our original Team, helping us part of the time in our Los Angeles Crusade and coming with us permanently shortly thereafter.
I can see him now in his favorite garb, wearing his white ten-gallon Stetson hat, a western-style jacket, blue jeans, and a pair of fancy cowboy boots. I can still hear that North Carolina drawl of his, spinning a familiar tale that kept us all fascinated—often because of the embellishments he added every time he told it. His easygoing nature and his down-to-earth sense of humor saved the day for me many times. He refused to let any of us take ourselves too seriously, and his humor defused more than one strained meeting or tense situation.
He also took great delight in reminding us of our mistakes—such as the time at a Crusade in Memphis when I noted a sign on top of the city hall announcing how many days it was since the city had a traffic death. I intended to say, “I congratulate you on 157 days without a fatality.” Instead, my twisted tongue said, “I congratulate you on 157 days without a fertility!”
Whether he was playing a practical joke on a Team member or reading the Scripture lesson on The Hour of Decision broadcast, Grady’s accent carried not only the hint of his beloved South but also, it seemed to me, the joy of Heaven itself.
Through our decades together, Grady took the pulpit at times when I was sick or had laryngitis. His style was different from mine, but the Holy Spirit used him to point people to Christ.
Even when major heart attacks and diabetes began to lay him low, Grady never lost his sense of humor or the twinkle in his eyes. Hardly able to get about at the end, he insisted on coming to our Crusade in Columbia, South Carolina, in 1987. My next service with Grady was his funeral a few months later. I say “with” because I know that Grady was more alive on that day than ever, freed at last from his pain-racked body and rejoicing in the presence of the Lord he loved and served. The nurses and doctors in the hospital where he spent his final days spoke of his sense of humor, joyous attitude, and warm witness for Christ.
Cliff Barrows
From the moment I met Cliff Barrows, I knew he had a rare combination of strengths. He loves music, and he knows also the importance of music in touching the hearts of an audience. His uncanny ability to lead a Crusade choir of thousands of voices or an audience of a hundred thousand voices in a great hymn or Gospel chorus is absolutely unparalleled. When he leads the choir in singing “Just As I Am” when I begin the Invitation, he is just as much a part of what the Holy Spirit is doing in people’s hearts as I could ever be. That well-known Gospel hymn has been used by God in Crusades all over the world to draw people to Himself, not only in English but also in other languages as well:
Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidd’st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
Like Billy Sunday’s famous song leader, Homer Rodeheaver, Cliff played a trombone with the best of them—a talent we often used in our earlier Crusades. Ruth remembers one lady—someone recently returned from a remote missionary post (where apparently the only musical instrument was the drum)—who wondered how he managed to slide that instrument up and down his throat so easily! Cliff’s wide contacts with Christian musicians and other artists have brought to our Crusade platforms some of the most inspiring and gifted soloists, instrumentalists, and ensembles in the world.
No one can keep the complicated Crusade platform proceedings running more smoothly than he, whether it is adjusting the pulpit up or down to accommodate a speaker’s or singer’s hei
ght or cueing up a song that wasn’t part of the advance plan for the service. He has a dramatic streak in him too—one that has made him a spellbinding storyteller in our children’s meetings (something we incorporated regularly into our early Crusades and have reintroduced in recent years).
Cliff has also overseen with great ability other aspects of our work. Production of The Hour of Decision broadcasts, with the assistance of Johnny Lenning, has been almost entirely Cliff’s responsibility. He also has directed the work of World Wide Pictures. At present he has oversight also of the production of our television ministry, working with our director of communications, television producer Roger Flessing.
But all of that talent is not the secret of Cliff’s effectiveness. It is his humility and his willingness to be a servant, which spring from his devotional life and his daily walk with Christ. The love of Christ so monopolizes his heart and will that he never seeks his own advantage at the expense of others or puts another person down. I trust Cliff, and I love him like a brother. No one except Ruth (or perhaps Grady and T.W.) has held so many of my confidences. That does not mean he doesn’t have strong convictions of his own, or that, like the other members of our Team, he doesn’t express himself freely.
Cliff is a rugged man, equally at home horseback-riding in the Rockies or clearing the brush around his house. But he also has the gentleness and thoughtfulness of a loving father or brother. He is a reconciler; he has held our Team and Crusade workers together many times by enfolding them in his own warm Christian spirit.
When Cliff’s hearing was threatened by a tumor a few years ago, and then when his talented and gracious wife, Billie, was diagnosed with incurable cancer, Ruth and I were stricken. We rejoiced with them when Cliff’s problem was alleviated, and we wept and prayed as Billie’s condition gradually worsened over a period of several years. Her funeral service was actually a celebration—a celebration not only of her life but of the hope we have of eternal life in Christ.
Billie and Cliff had five wonderful children whom Ruth and I love almost as though they are our own.
Cliff now makes his home in Georgia with his wife Ann whom God, in His grace, brought into Cliff’s life.
By Cliff’s side on every Crusade platform is a talented team of musicians on the organ and piano. For years Don Hustad played the organ; then he left to become professor of church music at Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, where he has trained a whole generation of church musicians. For the past thirty years, John Innes, originally from England, has brought his considerable talents to bear on the organ for us (as well as serving as organist for a large church in Atlanta).
But through the years, I have always known who would be sitting at the piano on my right in virtually every crusade: Tedd Smith. A native of Canada and a graduate of Toronto’s Royal Conservatory of Music, Tedd first joined us in 1950. One music critic in New Zealand said of his musical skills, “He compels you to look, listen, and think” through his music and poetry. Not only is he an accomplished instrumentalist, but he’s also a talented composer and arranger—and a poet too. Often he has worked with Cliff in arranging music and coordinating musical programs. In the last few years, Tedd has helped us develop our special youth-night programs, which make use of contemporary music to reach a new generation with the message of Christ.
George Beverly Shea
No discussion of our music team is complete without mentioning Bev Shea. Like Tedd Smith, Bev was born in Ontario, Canada, where his father was pastor of a Methodist church. I have already told how we began working together during my brief pastorate in Western Springs, Illinois.
Bev was the very first person I asked to join me in evangelism. He was well known in the Midwest, but at the same time he was humble; he couldn’t say no, even to a Fuller Brush salesman! It was God who brought us together. Bev will always be remembered as “America’s beloved Gospel singer,” whose rich bass baritone voice has touched the hearts of millions in our Crusades and through his sixty-five recordings; one of them, “Songs of the Southland,” was awarded a Grammy.
I have sometimes said that I would feel lost getting up to preach if Bev were not there to prepare the way through an appropriate song. But I will always be grateful not only for his musical contributions to our Crusades but also for his warm spirit and his personal friendship over the years. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him utter an unkind or critical word about anyone.
In 1976 his wife, Erma, died after an extended illness. They had a daughter, Elaine, and a son, Ron, who has become a valuable member of our Crusade-preparation staff. After repeated nudging by Team members, Bev began to date one of the receptionists in our Montreat office. Karlene and Bev were married in 1985 in a candlelight ceremony in our home and now live only a mile from us.
Walter Smyth
Before there was a BGEA, I preached for Walter Smyth. That was in Philadelphia with Youth for Christ. I had the privilege of performing the wedding for him and Ethel many decades ago. When we started Billy Graham Films, I asked Walter if he would head the distribution department, to see that the movies got the widest possible exposure. He agreed to come, and we opened an office on Connecticut Avenue in Washington, D.C.
Afterward, Walter was the overall director of all of our Cru-sades, then our international director. He organized a number of our Crusades himself and usually traveled with me when I went overseas. Since his retirement, he has been one of the people I have missed the most. I can’t put into words all that he has meant to me both personally and in the ministry.
T.W. Wilson
Grady’s older brother, T.W., has been so much a part of my life since youth that I feel as if he has been with our ministry forever. A gifted evangelist who held citywide meetings for years before joining our Team, T.W. often is a wise and practical counselor to people in trouble. His humor and his willingness to work long hours have been a source of great encouragement to all of us. I’ve leaned on him in practical ways perhaps more than on any other person in recent years. Blessed with good health, he also has another ability I don’t have: he sleeps soundly every night.
Like many other members of our Team, T.W. has had other responsibilities, including the supervision of our office staff in Mon-treat and the oversight of our radio stations.
T.W. has often overseen another, less pleasant side of our work: security. Unfortunately, anyone in the public eye has to contend with threats from people who are mentally unstable or, in our case, violently opposed to what we do. In many Crusades, we have had threats against me or the Team, and there have been repeated threats against my family.
Some have had a humorous side to them.
Once, many years ago, when Ruth was pregnant, she answered a knock at the door.
“I’m Jesus Christ,” the man said, trying to push his way into the house.
“Well,” Ruth responded, “why did you have to knock? Why didn’t you just come in through the closed door?”
He stopped and scratched his head, then got back into his car and drove down the mountain.
Other threats were really attempts to disrupt meetings. In 1980 I was invited to speak at the Oxford Union, Oxford University’s famed debating society. Not a few future British prime ministers had honed their analytical skills while members, in part by learning to dissect the views of visiting speakers. Over the years, I was told, many distinguished men and women had refused to appear as guest speakers before the Union, fearing the merciless grilling they were certain to get in the question-and-answer period.
Nevertheless, I accepted the invitation and found the members very attentive. Their questions were thoughtful and, I felt, reflected a personal search for answers to life’s basic questions. I had only one question I didn’t know how to answer: “Why don’t you pack up and go home?” Before I could think of a reply, his fellow students hissed loudly, and he sat down.
During that same visit to Oxford, I was speaking in the Town Hall. Some students from an anarchist group set off the fi
re alarm; others tried to shout me down. I just leaned into the microphone and kept on going, and the other students, ignoring the outbursts, listened all the more intently. Some of the anarchists climbed on the roof and cut the television cables through which we were transmitting to five other venues. After that meeting, Maurice Rowlandson, who represented us faithfully in Great Britain for many years as director of our London office, found his car surrounded by police, who were checking for a suspected bomb. It turned out to be a hoax.
But God was still at work. Canon Michael Green, who was active in coordinating those meetings, wrote me later that the student who did most of the shouting came to Christ later that night. Another student who made a commitment during the week said he did so mainly because of the emptiness he saw in the lives of those dissidents.
Still other threats were deadly in intent.
Once in Denver a man with a gun got into the stadium posing as one of the security officers; he had plans to assassinate me but was apprehended in time. In Cleveland one night, police arrested three men who were attempting to get on the platform at the Invitation—one with a knife, two with pistols. On still another occasion, police spotted a man with a rifle and telescopic sight in a tall building next to the stadium; he escaped but some weeks later was arrested on another charge.
In Oslo, Norway, a crowd of students blocked us wherever we went. When I met with King Olav, he told me they had done the same thing to him when he attended a church service. Shortly after our meeting began, the students broke out into shouts and screams. One man scaled the fence, cutting his hand on the barbed wire, and ran for the platform; he was determined to stop me. Team member Ralph Bell, who had been a star football player in his youth, tackled him just as he was about to reach the platform.