Just As I Am: The Autobiography of Billy Graham

by Billy Graham

  The call to be an evangelist motivated me to plunge ahead.

  “I have peace with God in my heart. If I die, I know I’m going to Heaven. God has given me the ability to love, to be more tolerant, to be more understanding, and to work toward peace in our world—within families, between races, and between nations.”

  He listened courteously (and I believed attentively).

  “I only say this to show you that it is because of my relationship with Christ that I stand before you today and offer you my hand of friendship and a renewed dedication to work for better understanding and peace in our world.”

  How long had I been talking? With everything having to be relayed through an interpreter, I was not sure. He did not show any restlessness or impatience, however.

  I then handed him the letter I had stayed up a whole night to draft. John Akers and Alex Haraszti had gone over it repeatedly, and then I stayed up most of another night redoing it.

  With the letter in his hand, Ponomarev looked at me and said soberly and sincerely, “We will discuss this with our colleagues.” He then thanked me for coming.

  During a subsequent visit to the Kremlin a few years later, I ran into Mr. Ponomarev outside one of the buildings. Retired by then, he greeted me very cordially as an old friend.

  Did that letter or our various contacts with ranking officials have any impact? Shortly after my 1984 visit, God gave me some encouragement in a letter from Georgi Arbatov—the first correspondence I ever received from a ranking Communist official. He was head of the Institute of United States and Canada Studies, a research and policy think tank. His English was excellent, and he came to our country often. Some thought his affability made him dangerously persuasive. I couldn’t help but like him, however.

  His letter was dated October 10, about three weeks after I had seen Ponomarev. Arbatov was quite upbeat about the effect of our visit and sent along a copy of a favorable article in the newspaper Izvestia. He expressed regret that we hadn’t had more time to talk about issues of mutual interest. “For the time being, as a substitute,” he wrote, “I am reading some of your books.” He added that his wife had read one of them “with great interest.”

  Maybe he was just being flattering. But if he was sincere, I found encouragement in this statement: “I couldn’t agree with you more when you say that life is a glorious opportunity if it is used to condition us for eternity.”

  What the trip was all about came during the farewell dinner given for us by the All-Union Council when Dr. Alexei Bichkov handed over to me a letter written by a woman who had made her commitment to Christ during our 1982 visit.

  My final appearance in Moscow during that 1984 visit was in Patriarch Pimen’s Cathedral of the Epiphany—with its beautiful blue walls, white columns, and gold-topped domes—on the morning of our last day. As many as 5,000 people jammed the cathedral, and this time, unlike in my 1982 visit, everyone could hear the message; a special sound system had been installed for the service. I preached on the topic “You Must Be Born Again.”

  “The greatest need in the world,” I said, “is the transformation of human nature. We need a new heart that will not have lust and greed and hate in it. We need a heart filled with love and peace and joy, and that is why Jesus came into the world.”

  In his response, the patriarch said that it was the kind of preaching they needed in their churches. He invited me publicly to come back to preach in other cities of the Soviet Union.

  As we drove from the cathedral, I asked Metropolitan Filaret, “Do you think His Holiness meant that invitation?”

  Impulsively, he put his hand on my knee. “Oh, of course he meant it. We all mean it. We want you to come. You have a wide-open door in our country. You have been a tremendous inspiration to us all.”

  At the airport, Vice Minister Fitsev from the Council for Religious Affairs was there to see me off, representing the government.

  “You’re welcome at any time,” he said in his gruff but cordial way. “We want you to come.”

  When he learned that I was flying out on Aeroflot, the Soviet airline, he laughed, adding, “Oh, then you’ll be in our hands until you get to Paris!”

  In an earlier era, I might have thought that sounded ominous.

  29

  Leading with Wit and Conviction

  President Ronald Reagan

  Ronald Reagan is one of the most winsome men I have ever known. Our long friendship really started one day in 1953, when I was playing golf in Phoenix. Mrs. Loyal Davis, wife of a prominent Chicago surgeon, came up to me on the course.

  “I want you to get to know my new son-in-law,” she said.

  I asked who he was.

  “Ronald Reagan.”

  “You mean the film star?”

  She confirmed that he had married her daughter, Nancy, some months before.

  Ron (as most of his friends called him) and I actually met later that year in Dallas. Both of us spoke at a benefit to raise money for retired film stars. Ron had been president of the Screen Actors Guild and was at that time a very strong Democrat.

  But that day it was an older preacher who really got his attention. Dr. W. A. Criswell, pastor of First Baptist Church in Dallas, the largest congregation of its denomination, was sitting on one side of Ron, just opposite me. Dr. Criswell bluntly told him he had never seen a movie in his life and never intended to, adding that he thought the whole industry was of the Devil.

  Reagan rose to the challenge. He explained to the distinguished Baptist leader just how movies were made and pointed out that many of them had a wholesome message. When he finished, Dr. Criswell thought for a moment and then spoke. “I’m going to start going to some movies, and I’ll tell my congregation that it’s not a sin to see certain types of movies.”

  Ron had not only changed a man’s mind, but he had done it with charm, conviction, and humor—traits I would see repeatedly as I got to know him.

  In the next two decades, my travels took me to California with some frequency, and often our paths crossed. As our friendship grew, I not only admired his quick wit and warm personality, but I also came to respect his keen insight and tough-minded approach to broad political issues. I also found him very interested in our work, even giving me friendly advice from time to time.

  Once, when we were both going on a television talk show—a “roast” with singer-actor Dean Martin—he asked me, “Do you know what kind of program this is?”

  “Yes, I think so,” I replied.

  “Well, they may try to embarrass you,” he warned. “Be careful.”

  I appreciated his counsel. I’d had enough experience to know that some people take delight in trying to embarrass a clergyman. They seated me beside Zsa Zsa Gabor, the glamorous actress, but no one made any attempt to embarrass me. I suspect Ron may have dropped a hint to them beforehand.

  In 1971 I was invited by the Democratic leadership of the California legislature to address a joint session when Ron was the Republican governor. After that session, I had lunch with him and his cabinet. Our discussion on that occasion was almost entirely on the Bible and its teachings.

  In May 1980, while campaigning for the presidency, Ron was traveling through Indiana. I was holding a Crusade in Indianapolis at the time, and he asked me to come out to his hotel to have breakfast. I went and was met by Ed Meese. During the course of our conversation, Ron did something that he had never done before: he asked me if, when he went to North Carolina, I would say a positive word about him. The polls did not look too good for him there; at that moment he was at the 50 percent level.

  “Ron, I can’t do that,” I had to reply. “You and I have been friends for a long time, and I have great confidence in you. I believe you’re going to win the nomination and be elected President. But I think it would hurt us both, and certainly hurt my ministry, if I publicly endorsed any candidate.”

  He understood and readily agreed.

  I went outside and found T.W. chatting with several of Reagan’s a
ides.

  “I hope you’ll come on to church with us,” Ed Meese said.

  “Ed, I can’t do that,” I said apologetically. “I’ve got to preach this afternoon. If I were to go with you now, it would be perceived as an endorsement. I just can’t do it.”

  He looked peeved, but I nonetheless thought that he understood my concern to be strictly neutral in the political race, in spite of my friendship with the Reagans.

  After his election to the presidency, Reagan asked me to join him in the inauguration ceremonies on January 20, 1981, which I was honored to do. He invited me to speak at the first official event of the day, which was a prayer service at St. John’s Episcopal Church across from the White House—for the President-elect and the Vice President–elect and their families.

  I walked into St. John’s about half an hour early. The only two people there were Frank Sinatra and his wife, Barbara.

  “Frank, I’ll bet this is the first time you’ve ever been the first one in church!” I said.

  He laughed. “I try to go as often as I can.”

  Later I joined President Reagan on the platform during the administering of the oath of office; his pastor, the Reverend Donn Moomaw—who back in 1954 had worked with us in the London Crusade and now pastored the Bel Air Presbyterian Church in California—offered the prayers.

  On being reelected four years later, he once again asked me to participate in the inaugural ceremonies, beginning with a prayer service at which I spoke in Washington’s National Cathedral. As it turned out, terrible weather with bitter cold forced the cancellation of the public ceremonies at the Capitol and the inaugural parade. The oath of office had to be administered indoors in the Capitol Rotunda.

  During the eight years of Reagan’s administration, we saw each other a number of times. I especially appreciated his kindness in inviting Ruth and me to several state dinners for visiting foreign leaders.

  On March 3, 1983, we were privileged to accept an invitation to such a dinner in San Francisco. The guests of honor were Britain’s Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip. In spite of the miserable weather, we had a wonderful time. During the evening, someone was sent to invite us on behalf of the Queen to a reception the next night on board the royal yacht Britannia. We accepted, and as Ruth and I boarded, a man with several stripes on his uniform sleeve saluted and whispered, “Wembley ’55.” During the course of that evening alone, Ruth and I heard of several others who had made commitments to Christ during our various Crusades in England.

  Knowing of Ruth’s deep interest in China, President Reagan invited us in July of 1985 to a state dinner honoring the Chinese president, Li Xiannian. Due to a Crusade I was holding in Ana-heim, California, I was unable to attend, but the President thoughtfully seated Ruth on his left at the dinner, with President Li on his right. I have no doubt this helped us when we began negotiations for our trip to China three years later.

  In November of 1985 he invited us again to a state dinner, this one in honor of Prince Charles and Princess Diana. We were greatly disappointed (and somewhat embarrassed, since we considered such an invitation a “command performance”) that we were unable to accept the invitation. Again it was due to a long-standing speaking engagement to proclaim the Gospel. I wrote the Queen’s secretary explaining why we had had to decline.

  In December 1987, the Soviet Union’s General Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev and his wife, Raisa, visited Washington for a summit conference. We were invited to some of the festivities. During the welcoming ceremony on the White House lawn, Ruth and I, standing next to Henry Kissinger, were close enough to see the expressions on the faces of the Reagans and the Gorbachevs. Several thousand people had gathered, including hundreds of photographers and reporters. I could not help but wonder how the President, at age seventy-six, could stand up to such physical pressure. He had gone to the Kennedy Center the night before and now faced a grueling and important summit conference.

  That was a busy day for Ruth and me too, with lunch at the Bushes (right before the Vice President went to the treaty-signing ceremony) and a reception at the Soviet Embassy.

  Arriving at the White House later for the state dinner, we saw many old friends and made some new ones, including Meadowlark Lemon, the former Harlem Globetrotter, who impressed me as a warm and distinguished person. Many people came up to us and said they had seen our Denver Crusade telecast the night before.

  In the receiving line, the President seemed delighted when he greeted us and told General Secretary Gorbachev a little bit about us. (He did not know that we had just come from the Soviet Embassy.) Mr. Gorbachev greeted me very warmly again. Nancy kissed us both, and then we met Mrs. Gorbachev.

  In November 1988, President Reagan’s last official guest for a state dinner was Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher of England; in 1981 she had been his first such guest. He had invited us then, and he invited us again. It was a hectic day. Ruth had forgotten her evening bag and had to go buy another for the dinner that evening. Then we bought some flowers and stopped in to see our friend Mrs. J. Willard Marriott, who insisted we stay for lunch; we talked about her children, including her son, Bill, Jr., with whom I had developed a genuine friendship, and her grandchildren. We also spoke about our memories of her husband, who had been such a warm friend to us (and whose funeral I had spoken at three years before).

  We arrived for the state dinner that night at the same time as football legend Rosey Grier and businessman Malcolm Forbes. Mr. Forbes could not have been friendlier as we talked about his boat trip to China, which had taken place about the same time as our visit the previous spring. The boat, which he had docked up the Huangpu River, was named The Capitalist Tool. The name was a cause of much amusement.

  “You totally overshadowed my trip,” he said laughingly. “You were on television, in the newspapers, and so on. We barely made it on the news at all, except in Hong Kong!”

  In the reception line, the President turned to tell Mrs. Thatcher who we were. She told him I had already visited her at Number 10 and she knew we were going back to England to preach the following summer.

  To my surprise, I found I had been placed at the table on Mrs. Reagan’s left, with Mr. Thatcher on her right.

  “I’ve listened to you all my life, it seems,” said actress Loretta Young, who was also sitting at our table. “If you appear on television, my children come and tell me you’re on.”

  At this dinner, Ambassador Charles Price’s wife, Carol, gave me a bit of good advice. She was seated to my left, which was toward my bad ear. At one point, she turned to me and asked, “Are you having a hard time hearing me?”

  I admitted that I was, explaining that the hearing problem was new to me and that I didn’t know how to handle it.

  “You should have told me so that I could have raised my voice,” she chided. “Don’t be bashful about a problem like that.”

  This last state dinner for the Reagans was nostalgic, with tears in many eyes. When Mrs. Thatcher paid a tribute to Nancy, Nancy reached over and squeezed my hand.

  I talked to a number of British people that evening. One lady from Scotland said she had gone to Kelvin Hall to hear us in Glasgow when she was a little girl.

  Then we went upstairs, where Michael Feinstein sang and played George Gershwin and Irving Berlin songs. Mrs. Thatcher had said that Mr. Reagan brought a new spiritual atmosphere to America. Ruth later wished that there had been some music played or some other remarks made about spiritual things.

  One night in Washington, after Ruth and I had already gone to bed in our room at the Madison Hotel, the phone rang. It was the First Lady.

  “Are you all asleep?” she asked.

  “Just about.”

  “We’re in bed too,” she said, “but we want to see you both and talk to you. Can you come over here?”

  I said we would.

  “We’ll have a car in front of the hotel in fifteen minutes.”

  We scrambled back into our clothes and rode over to 1600 Pennsylvania
Avenue, whose two chief occupants were in their pajamas and in bed themselves. We had a great time talking with them for at least a couple of hours. As usual, it was mostly reminiscing about our families or personal concerns.

  During the years before Ron was elected to public office, I had often detected a spiritual side to him. For example, I remember once when I gave a small dinner party at the Beverly Hilton Hotel and invited him. He brought up the subject of the Second Coming of Christ. The same subject came up with him on other occasions as well.

  I have been told that where he grew up, in Dixon, Illinois, he did some preaching himself in his late teens. At the time, he was a member of the Christian Church, which was somewhat like the Baptist Church. I kept forgetting to ask him about it, however, something that I now regret.

  One night when I was staying at the White House, Nancy and the President got into a discussion about the question of salvation—who was going to be saved and who was going to be lost. He gave her his views on conversion and the new birth right out of the Bible. She turned to me.

  “Billy, is that right?”

  I said it was and expanded a little further.

  They were both interested in understanding more about the Scriptures, especially Ron. He often asked me questions about the biblical view on important topics. Abortion was one such issue he wrestled with. I always stressed the Bible’s teaching on the sacredness of human life, both of the unborn and of the born. We talked about other current issues, but always in terms of principles, not what specific policies or programs should be adopted or scrapped.

  A lot of Christians were confused and upset that President Reagan did not go to church regularly in Washington during his two terms. Strange as it might seem, I was one of the people who suggested to him that he might stay away. We discussed it together shortly after he was shot in 1981.