Just As I Am: The Autobiography of Billy Graham

by Billy Graham

  Because the emperor was involved in every detail of Ethiopian life, it was necessary for our Team to gain his permission before any meetings could be held. We knew, though, that Protestant churches and missionaries were restricted almost exclusively to the remote rural areas. Our contacts in Addis Ababa had no access to the royal family or the higher levels of government. The year before this trip, 1959, I had sent a cable to the emperor during our Crusade in Indianapolis, but we had no way of knowing if it ever arrived or was seen by him.

  Some months later, when Charlie and Jerry visited Addis Ababa on their advance-planning trip, the missionaries dispiritedly told them that the way was closed, short of a miracle. But as they prayed just before leaving, one Ethiopian pastor raised his voice and quoted from the Old Testament Book of Esther. He recalled the occasion when God had awakened the king of Persia in the middle of the night, setting in motion a series of events that ultimately saved the Jewish nation from extinction. “O God,” he then prayed, “if you can awaken a king in the middle of the night, then you can get the message about this invitation to His Majesty.”

  Charlie and Jerry had already packed their bags. As they left to check out of the hotel, in walked a man from Scandinavia who immediately recognized Jerry and greeted him with a big hug. Torrey Mosvold had been on our Crusade committee in Oslo a few years before. After they told him their problem, he said, “Well, maybe I have come to the kingdom for such a time as this—” another quotation from the Book of Esther!

  He then explained that he had business interests in Ethiopia and would that very day be having lunch with Emperor Haile Selassie’s son, the crown prince. Three days later, Jerry and Charlie received a cable in Cairo, stating that not only had His Majesty granted permission for the meetings, but he was also giving our Team the use of the royal stadium. Furthermore, he planned to order all schools to be closed and all young people, including his grandchildren, to go to our meetings.

  When we finally arrived in Addis Ababa, I had a high fever and a sore throat and had to be taken to the only hospital in the city—one run by the Seventh Day Adventists. My temperature soon returned to normal, and I was able to preach again.

  An estimated 10,000 came to the first meeting, with almost half staying for counseling afterward. It was the greatest response of our African trip.

  His Majesty also received me at his palace, which was not, I discovered, a place for the fainthearted. Scattered around the palace grounds—and greeting me as I walked in—were a number of domesticated lions. They were not on leashes, but at least they were well enough fed not to want to nibble on a visiting American evangelist.

  Egypt

  Our final major stop in Africa was Cairo—but first we had to get there. Our flight began innocently enough, but somewhere over the desert we encountered a terrible dust storm, with pebbles hitting the side of the plane like machine-gun bullets. It lasted only thirty-five or forty minutes; while we were in it, though, it seemed like an eternity.

  In spite of the strong Islamic influence in Cairo, the government gave permission for our meeting. To meet the letter of the law, it was held on mission property owned by the United Presbyterian Church. The local organizers had constructed a fantastic tent for the meeting; measuring 150 by 175 feet, it was made of some type of crimson quilted material that looked like animal skins.

  Some 10,000 people jammed the tent. People were literally sitting on top of each other, and many were standing; in fact, two ambassadors, I was told, had to stand. Many in the audience came from a Muslim background, but when the Invitation was given, about 2,000 stayed behind for half an hour’s instruction in what it meant to be a Christian. Seldom have I sensed the presence of God so deeply in a meeting.

  I had the opportunity of meeting a variety of dignitaries and church leaders while in Cairo. Among them was the Wahby family; they had come up from Alexandria to attend the meeting. Dr. Wahby was moderator of the Presbyterian Church in Egypt at the time. In future years, I would cross paths with him and his family again. I also will never forget standing with Cliff in the shadow of the pyramids, making our weekly Hour of Decision radio program.

  What did we learn from our first visit to the African continent?

  For one thing, I came away with an overwhelming impression that God was at work in Africa and that, with the movement for independence sweeping across the continent, conditions were ripe for an unparalleled spiritual awakening.

  At the same time, I also learned firsthand that the struggle for Africa’s soul was not over. I knew that Africa could be plunged into spiritual warfare as well as social chaos, with animistic and tribal ways clashing with everything from Islam to Western consumerism.

  I was fascinated also by the amazing diversity and pride among the people I met, whether in urban boardrooms or jungle clearings or village bazaars. At the same time, I was deeply concerned about some of the attitudes I had seen among both whites and blacks. In addition, I was troubled by the failure of many of the colonial powers to train the African people in skills of leadership and practical business.

  A further result of the trip was a deeper awareness of the hurt and pain that America’s racial problems were causing all across Africa. Many African Christians, on learning about racial segregation in American churches, were confused. They could not see American Christianity as the model for the oneness of the Body of Christ. How could they think otherwise when they heard that a person of color was barred from entering certain churches in the United States?

  I came away more determined than ever to do what I could as an evangelist to combat the grim legacy of racism in my own country. Almost the first thing I did upon returning home was to endorse the formation of a new biracial committee of one hundred citizens in my native Charlotte to grapple with racial reconciliation; that city was in the midst of a series of demonstrations and lunch-counter sit-ins.

  I was also struck by the fact that all the missionaries I encountered were white. I greatly admired them, but I kept asking myself, Where are the missionaries from our great black denominations in the United States?

  At the same time, I left Africa with a prayer of deep gratitude for the faith and sacrifice of those who had gone before us, bringing the light of the Gospel to one of the world’s largest continents. We were only following a trail others had blazed.

  Thinking about those trailblazers reminded me again of the prophetic words of David Livingstone, the Scottish missionary to the heart of Africa, which I had read to our Team just before leaving New York: “Future missionaries will see conversions following every sermon. We prepare the way for them. May they not forget the pioneers who worked in the thick gloom with few rays to cheer except such as flow from faith in God’s promise. We work for a glorious future which we are not destined to see.”

  I will never forget meeting with 25 missionaries crowded into a small room during a brief refueling stop in Asmara, Eritrea, near the close of our trip in Africa. They listened eagerly as Joe Blinco and I told of what we had seen God do during the last few weeks. Then I asked each of them to tell us about their work. I sensed that most of them were somewhat embarrassed, for we had just been talking about the large crowds and the unexpected response we had seen almost everywhere. But one by one they quietly told of their work. Some of them had been laboring for years, with almost nothing in the way of tangible results. And yet they each had a deep sense that this was where God had called them; and that was all they needed to know. Tears welled up in our eyes as we prayed with them in the attitude of 1 Corinthians 3: “Neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. . . . We are God’s fellow workers. . . .”

  Africa has changed greatly since our 1960 visit, and parts of it are hardly recognizable from those days. Since then our Team has returned on several occasions. Ruth and I are thrilled that our older son, Franklin, has also become deeply involved in Africa, largely through the organization he heads, Samaritan’s Purse. As I note elsewhere in these
pages, Samaritan’s Purse is committed to giving emergency aid in the name of Christ to those who face some kind of disaster, usually working alongside local churches or mission organizations. From famine relief in Ethiopia and Mozambique to medical care in war-torn Rwanda, Franklin has carried on much of my own vision for Africa and its people.

  JORDAN AND ISRAEL

  From Egypt we flew to Jordan for an eight-day trip to that Middle Eastern kingdom and Israel. A false rumor the year before—an allegation that I had raised funds in America for the support of Israel—seemingly had barred the door to Jordan. By the time we got there, however, Roy Gustafson, something of a Middle East expert whom I had sent on ahead several weeks before, had arranged everything.

  In Amman I was received by King Hussein, who was quite young. The next day, the main Jordanian newspaper carried a picture of the two of us on the front page, which erased any lingering suspicions about the rumor. The king invited me to stay in his palace, but because of our schedule I could not.

  I was surprised to be told that 15 percent of the population of Jordan was non-Arab. I also visited historic cities.

  When we crossed over the Allenby Bridge separating Jordan and Israel, there were two hundred reporters and photographers awaiting me. A deputy official from the Israeli foreign office intercepted me, welcoming me nervously. He said that the foreign minister, Mrs. Golda Meir, wanted to see me immediately—before I talked to the press. I agreed, but I hated to leave the reporters more or less standing outside wondering what was happening as I was whisked away to her home.

  I found Mrs. Meir to be one of the most knowledgeable and delightful people I have ever met. Hopeful (I suspect) that I would have a fuller understanding of their views before meeting with the press, she and her associates briefed me on the situation in Israel.

  For all the goodwill, though, a great controversy arose over our planned use of an auditorium in Tel Aviv. The Jerusalem Post had asked, before our arrival, “Why is Billy Graham coming here to proselytize?” Concerned about it in the middle of the night at the King David Hotel in Jerusalem, I asked Grady to wake Roy up and bring him to my room. I was very worried about the press conference scheduled for the next day, and I wanted to get my ducks in a row. We discussed the auditorium controversy and prayed about it.

  Just prior to our visit, cables addressing the auditorium issue had been exchanged between Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion (who was in America to receive an honorary doctorate from Brandeis University and to hold crucial conversations with the U.S. State Department) and the local officials who were dealing with our Team. I was not aware until later of all the stipulations that were being imposed by Israeli authorities on my planned preaching in Tel Aviv—for example, that Christian meetings must be held on property owned by a Christian group. Cliff and the sponsoring committee declined these stipulations but were able to arrange for the meeting to be held in an Arab Christian church in nearby Haifa, much to everyone’s relief. The church normally seated about 600, but 1,200 crowded in and others listened over a loudspeaker in the garden. We also held a meeting in the YMCA auditorium in Jerusalem, and I had a cordial discussion with the chief rabbi of Jerusalem as well.

  The next morning—still in Jerusalem—thirty minutes before the press conference, Cliff, Jerry, and I met with a representative of Israel’s State Department. We sat around a table, drinking tea. He was nervous about the possible embarrassment his country would suffer if I were to say, in answer to a question, that I had been denied the use of the Tel Aviv stadium. I assured him I did not take their refusal as a personal insult.

  That press conference, which was held in the King David Hotel, was by far the largest of our entire trip. I told the reporters in attendance that I had an opening statement. In it, I gave four reasons why I had come to Israel:

  • First, to see, as every tourist did, the places that were sacred to Christians, Muslims, and Jews.

  • Second, to report to the 50,000 Christians in Israel what was happening in the church in other parts of the world, since they had been praying for our meetings in Africa and elsewhere.

  • Third, to preach God’s Word to the whole world. This was just one more historic and strategic region I had wanted to visit in fulfillment of that commission.

  • Fourth, to say thank you to the people of Israel. I told the gathered press, “I want to thank you for proselytizing me, a Gentile, who has committed his life to a Jew who was born in this country and reared up here in Nazareth. I want to thank you for being the nation through whom Jesus was brought to this earth in the divine plan of God. And I want to thank you as one who has given my life to a Jew who, as a man living upon this earth, claimed to be God.” That, I said, was the message of hope we had been sharing around the world.

  There was a fifth reason too, though I don’t think I shared it at the press conference. I have always believed that the Jews were God’s special people, chosen to preserve the Hebrew Scriptures through the centuries and to prepare the way for the coming of Jesus.

  When I finished my statement, there was a long silence among the reporters.

  The headline in the next edition of the Jerusalem Post was something like “BILLY GRAHAM THANKS ISRAEL FOR PROSELYTIZING HIM.”

  As for the meeting itself, I preached Christ as Savior and Lord, but I also honored the official request not to give a public Invitation for the Gospel. Instead, I concluded the sermons this way: “We’re going to dismiss the meeting now. For those of you who want to talk privately about what it means to be a Christian, we’ll be back in ten minutes; and we’d be happy to talk with you.”

  When the meetings turned from public to private in this way, the protocol was preserved. Several hundred were present at each after-meeting. Many of these took their stand for Christ then, in spite of what it might cost them personally, socially, and even economically.

  Jesus and Paul were also respectful of civil authority. Neither of them forced a confrontation with the Roman government on religious grounds, godless and decadent as it was, nor is that my calling as an evangelist.

  Behind us when we left for home at the end of March, the scheduled “safari for souls” in Africa and our visit in the Middle East had stretched to include meetings in twenty-five cities and seventy-five villages in over a dozen countries. We had averaged a plane flight every two and a half days for ten weeks. Thankfully, we had few problems with sickness. In many places during that Crusade, we stayed in missionary homes, which were better than hotels. Our hosts gave us their best, which we were grateful for although it was often very modest. Local leaders came to dinner with us, bringing their food with them; we were often not quite sure what we were eating, but we ate it with thanksgiving nonetheless.

  Less than three months after returning home, we opened our National Capital Crusade in Washington, D.C. Against the backdrop of the recent African and Middle Eastern experience, I preached in the inner courtyard of the Pentagon to 7,000 civilian workers and military personnel. My message? It was the same I had preached all across Africa and in the Middle East: following Christ was the only way to lasting peace.

  19

  Into All the World

  The Caribbean 1958, Chicago 1962, South America 1962, Mexico 1981

  A couple of years before our African trip, following the 1957 New York meetings, we held major Crusades—often lasting two to four weeks apiece—in a number of U.S. cities: San Francisco, Sacra-mento, Charlotte, Indianapolis, Washington, Minneapolis, Phil-adelphia, and all across the state of Florida. We also returned to Europe for meetings and rallies in Switzerland, Germany, England, and Northern Ireland. The schedule included dozens of other engagements as well—everything from speaking at a high school in a small town near our home in North Carolina to the annual Christ-mas services at West Point and Annapolis.

  Now it was time for us to turn our full attention southward, but we had to move with great caution. Why?

  First, in almost every country of Latin America, Protestants were a t
iny minority. For example, when we preached in Quito, Ecuador, Protestants numbered less than 2,000 out of a population of 280,000.

  Second, relations between Roman Catholics and Protestants had seldom been cordial in that part of the world; in some places, particularly in rural areas, there had been occasional discrimination, even violence.

  Today it may be hard to recall the sharp divisions and controversies that sometimes marked Protestant-Catholic relations back then—even during John F. Kennedy’s presidential campaign in 1960—but they were real; and in no place were they stronger than in Latin America. The Second Vatican Council, with its acceptance of Christians from other traditions as “separated brethren,” had not yet been held. (Its first session opened in October 1962, just as we were concluding our final Latin American meetings.)

  Nor was the fault always on the Catholic side, I knew. Often Latin American Protestants were guilty of intolerance, negative preaching, and inflammatory language. I had no intention of adding fuel to the fire. In fact, whenever possible during our trip south (as well as on other tours), I tried to meet with local Catholic leaders, to the occasional consternation of some of our hosts.

  My goal, I always made clear, was not to preach against Catholic beliefs or to proselytize people who were already committed to Christ within the Catholic Church. Rather, it was to proclaim the Gospel to all those who had never truly committed their lives to Christ. Large numbers of people in Latin America, I knew, were only nominal believers.

  A third reason we needed to proceed with caution had to do with the political instability in many countries. Because most of the governments were not democratic, we knew it would be difficult to gain permission for large public gatherings.