Fifty Years with Billy, Part 2

This article originally appeared in the November 13, 1995 issue of Christianity Today.

BEHIND THE IRON CURTAIN

Few, if any, developments in Billy Graham's ministry have been more surprising or controversial than his success in penetrating the Iron Curtain. It wasn't surprising, of course, that he would want to preach in Communist-dominated lands. He wanted to preach everywhere. Still, it was a notable turn of events when first one and then another and another Warsaw Pact country not only allowed him to visit, but progressively extended to him privileges that no other churchman, including the most prominent and politically docile native religious leaders, had ever received.

Graham has been clear and consistent about his goals in visiting the Soviet-bloc nations. As always, he sought first to preach the simple gospel message as publicly and to as many people as possible. Second, he sought to encourage believers in these countries by providing them with a tangible contact with world Christianity and assuring them they had not been forgotten by brothers and sisters in other parts of the world. And third, he tried to help the various Communist governments understand that religious organizations are a significant part of their society, that they are not going to disappear, that their members pose little threat to the stability of the government, and that granting them greater religious freedom would not harm the state. In addition, he stressed to Communist leaders that Americans view religious freedom as a basic human right and find it difficult to accept normal diplomatic relationships with countries that restrict that right.

Critics of the visits charged that Graham was being used by the Soviets for propaganda purposes. They pointed in particular to a 1982 Moscow "Peace Conference," which did indeed have a strong anti-American slant, and after which Graham made some inadequately considered—and inaccurately reported—remarks that seemed to describe greater religious freedom in the USSR than in fact existed. Graham understands, of course, that the governments of the countries he has visited have their own agendas and that preaching the Christian gospel is not a major priority. "Of course they are using us," he said. "But we are using them as well, and my message is stronger than theirs."

In light of the enormous changes that have occurred in the former Soviet Union and its satellite nations since 1989, no one can say with any assurance precisely what Graham's influence has been. It is worth noting, however, that no other Western churchman has had anything like the unique access to Eastern European leadership he has had, and, more important, that most of the changes he pressed for have been realized to a far greater extent than he dreamed possible as recently as a decade ago.

Important as they were, the Berlin and Lausanne Congresses may have meant less to Billy Graham than two conferences his organization sponsored in Amsterdam in 1983 and 1986. These were designed not to provide another international forum for scholars and noted leaders, but to provide on-the-job itinerant evangelists with basic instruction in such mundane matters as sermon composition, fundraising, and effective use of films and videotapes. Nearly 4,000 evangelists, 70 percent from Third World countries, attended the first conference; 9,500, from 173 countries, were present for the second. (As a sign of changing times, approximately 500 attendees at the 1986 meeting were women, and Pentecostals outnumbered non-Pentecostals.)

Had Billy Graham and BGEA done nothing beyond sending 13,000 fully charged and freshly prepared evangelists back to their homelands, the results of the Amsterdam conferences would doubtless have affected hundreds of thousands of individual lives before the wheels set in motion there finally rolled to a stop. But the model developed in these gatherings has been emulated in dozens of smaller gatherings throughout the world, giving similar training to tens of thousands of evangelists. Indeed, it is plausible that the answer to the oft-asked question, "Who will be the next Billy Graham?" is not any one man or woman we now know, or indeed may ever meet or hear of, but this mighty army of anonymous individuals whose spirits have been thrilled by Billy Graham's example, their hands and minds prepared with his organization's assistance, and their hearts set on fire by his exhortation that became the ringing slogan of the Amsterdam meetings: Do the Work of an Evangelist!

QUINTESSENTIAL TELEVANGELIST

Undergirding all these achievements, of course, has been Billy Graham's success—and phenomenal fame—as a proclaimer of Good News. Simply but irrefutably put, no one has ever come close to matching him in the categories that make the box scores in big-league evangelism, and everyone knows that. For 45 years, the signature enterprise of his ministry has been and remains the great arena crusade, organized by an experienced team along lines proven to be effective, involving the cooperation of tens of thousands of church members from most of the Christian churches in Greater Wherever, and culminating in a series of services in which Graham calls men and women to Christ and then, chin rested on right fist, elbow cradled in left hand, eyes closed in prayer while hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands, come just as they are, without one plea. Many of them have come before, to be sure, and many of the "first-time decisions" would eventually have come even if Billy Graham had never visited their city. But the fact that multitudes of people have made or renewed a commitment to accept Jesus Christ as Lord of their lives, and that additional multitudes have been stirred to greater commitment by their participation in the preparation, execution, and postcrusade activities has had an immense, if ultimately immeasurable, impact on local churches, on American and world Christianity, and on millions of individual lives.

Though he has often made a point of distinguishing himself from the band of preachers known as "televangelists," and though most of his television broadcasts have been formulaic in the extreme—consisting of little more than a film of a crusade service—no evangelist has used television and other mass media as efficiently, effectively, and creatively as has Billy Graham.

Apart from an early and nonmemorable televised version of the Hour of Decision, Graham's first significant use of television came in 1957 when, at ABC's invitation, he began airing the Saturday night services of his Madison Square Garden crusade. After a Gallup poll taken that summer revealed that 85 percent of Americans could correctly identify Billy Graham, and that three-quarters of that number regarded him positively, "Christian Life" magazine cautiously observed, "Undoubtedly, this fact will affect Graham's ministry."

In the intervening years, production values have improved, Graham has adjusted his speaking style to the smaller screen, and programs are taped and edited rather than aired live, but the basic elements of those first telecasts—Cliff Barrows leading a huge chorus, George Beverly Shea singing "How Great Thou Art," a celebrity or two testifying to the power of Christ in his or her life—are still the hallmarks of the programs.

In a wise move, Graham decided early on not to attempt a weekly Sunday-morning program. As years of Nielsen and Arbitron ratings have demonstrated, the audiences for his programs, usually aired in prime time in groups of three on a quarterly basis, are much larger than those for the syndicated Sunday programs of other religious broadcasters. This larger audience also appears to contain far more unchurched people than do the Sunday shows. No less important, 12 programs a year, filmed while he is doing what he would be doing anyway, cost less than a weekly studio program, minimize the risk of overexposure, and cause less drain on the evangelist's time and energy.

In addition to these efforts to reach a mass audience with an edited product, Graham has long used the medium to carry crusade services live to audiences in locations far from the central site. In 1954, during a 12-week effort that packed London's Harringay Arena, the sound from the crusade was carried to various auditoriums by landline relay. That effort evolved into the use of various television relay systems until, in recent years, many of Graham's crusades, especially those outside the United States, have used satellite technology to beam crusade services to audiences gathered in locations throughout a given region.

The culmination of these efforts, and possibly of Billy Graham's 50-year ministry, came in March of this year, when the 76-year-old evangelist's distinctive voice and familiar message soared upward from his pulpit in Puerto Rico to a network of 30 satellites that bounced it back to receiving dishes in more than 185 countries, where it was translated into 116 languages. Plausible estimates indicate that, when network television telecasts and delayed videotape presentations were included, as many as one billion people heard at least one of Graham's sermons during this campaign, aptly titled "Global Mission." Graham sees no conflict between "the old, old story" and the newest means to transmit it. "It is time," he observed, "for the church to use the technology to make a statement that in the midst of chaos, emptiness, and despair, there is hope in the person of Jesus Christ."

NO DARK SIDE

How does one account for Billy Graham? His associates and supporters have often told me that the only possible explanation is that, as we recognize that a turtle perched on a fencepost did not scale the height himself but was placed there by an external power, we must acknowledge that "Billy Graham is where he is because a sovereign God put him there." While that statement is perhaps true, most of my colleagues in sociology and history and journalism seek more mundane explanations. As historians of revivalism (including preeminently Graham's early biographer, the late William McLoughlin) have noted, the titans of American evangelism—Charles Grandison Finney, D. L. Moody, Billy Sunday, and Billy Graham—have shared at least three common characteristics: a simple, nondenominational theology; a first-rate organization; and a distinctive personal style.

As he and virtually all of his close associates are quick to say, Billy Graham has never pretended to be a sophisticated theologian. With rare exception, he does not tackle theological questions or deal with issues that divide or distinguish denominations from one another, lest his comments disrupt the peaceful ecumenical cooperation he needs for a successful crusade or conference. Instead, he repeats a few simple points over and over, with great and obvious conviction: A sovereign God has revealed his will to humans in the Bible, his inspired, accurate, and fully dependable Word. Christ died to redeem sinful and corrupt humans. If those humans accept the offer of God's grace, made possible by Christ's death, they can be born again; that is, their sinful nature can be dramatically transformed and, after death and/or the Second Coming, they will live forever in heaven. Those who do not accept this offer will spend eternity in hell, which, at the least, entails total separation from God. Graham has written whole books on several of these topics, as well as other questions of theology, but that is the essence of his preaching. Not only do his hearers regard this as good news, but they perceive correctly that he is himself a believer, that he has no doubts about the truth of what he preaches.

A second crucial aspect of Billy Graham's success has been the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association (BGEA). Though the organization grew out of his early success, it has not only helped perpetuate and enlarge upon those successes but has protected him from the kinds of scandals and problems that have destroyed several other notable independent ministries. The first of these roles is the more visible; the latter may well have been more important. An all-too-familiar pattern in independent evangelistic ministries has been for the ministry's board of directors to consist of the evangelist, a few relatives, a friendly lawyer, and a smattering of yes-men. In such an arrangement, the opportunities for financial and ethical laxity are enormous. No single organizational measure Billy Graham has taken, perhaps, has done more to keep him out of hot water and to undergird his well-deserved reputation for fiscal integrity than his recruitment of and submission to an impressively strong board composed of successful and independent Christian business and professional men and women.

Important as the organization is, it did not emerge full-blown in Minneapolis and choose him to be its spokesman. He, and the men and women he chose to help him, built the organization, not the reverse. In consequence, it seems inescapable that a third crucial factor in explaining Billy Graham's unprecedented accomplishments as an evangelist and world Christian leader is Billy Graham himself. What are the key characteristics of his personality that help account for his success?

Graham's ability to speak to American culture so successfully for 50 years stems in some measure from the fact that he is in many ways an apotheosis of the core values of our culture. If results are the measure, he is the best who ever was at what he does, but he attained that height through hard and honest work, not through inheritance or blind chance. Always ready to use the latest instruments of technology and media to accomplish his goals and maintain his prominence, he nevertheless insists that his most valuable asset has been a circle of old and loyal friends. He has walked with kings and princes and received unprecedented and sustained media attention for over four decades, but he still strikes us as something of a small-town boy, astonished that anyone would think him special.

It is commonly noted that Billy Graham is a humble man. To be sure, that humility exists in paradoxical tension with a machinery remarkably adept at puffing his name and his ministry, but the basic assessment is correct. BGEA photographer Russ Busby, who has probably spent more time in Graham's presence than all but two or three other members of his staff, once observed that "the biggest asset Billy has is his honest humility. He has an ego, like the rest of us. Sometimes it takes off, but he brings it back under control. It takes a big ego to be a big preacher, but the difference between Billy and the others is that when God wants to speak to him, at least he can get his attention."

In a society riven by divorce, he and the wife of his youth have reared five attractive and capable children, all of whom are faithful Christians. In a profession stained by scandal, he stands out as the clearly identified exemplar of clean-living integrity. Repeatedly, people I interviewed said such things as: "Billy is as transparent a person as I have ever known. He makes mistakes; he is human. He has made some false moves, but there is no dark side to Billy Graham. There isn't any secret insincerity or hidden agenda." Perhaps my favorite comment in this vein came from a handyman who acted as caretaker for the Graham's home in Montreat and whose wife helped Ruth Graham with the cooking and housework. As he drove me down the steep roads that connect Little Piney Cove to the village below, he said, "You've been visiting some mighty good people today. My wife and I have been knowing Mr. and Miz Graham for 15 years, and I'm telling you, they're the same inside the house as out."

In addition, Billy Graham is a genuinely charismatic figure. The term charisma, as used by social scientists, does not refer to spiritual gifts but to palpable qualities of personality and bearing. The sociological patriarch Max Weber (who also gave us the term, "the Protestant ethic") described the charismatic leader as a man able to inspire people to follow him and accept his authority, not out of fear or hope of material gain, but out of love, devotion, and enthusiasm. He typically possesses a strong sense of mission, a conviction that his mission is admirable and obtainable, and a confidence that he is particularly well-equipped to accomplish that mission—either because he has been chosen by God or some impersonal destiny, or simply because his peculiar set of talents seem so well—matched to the historical circumstance. Who can deny that this describes Billy Graham?

Unfortunately, charisma is value-neutral. Lenin, Hitler, Mao, Jim Jones, David Koresh, Shoko Asahara, and a host of lesser villains, including some notorious evangelists, have been charismatic figures who used their influence and power to amass personal wealth, exploit people physically and psychologically, or delude their followers into chasing impossible dreams and committing unspeakable horrors.

To the world's great fortune, Billy Graham has not only deployed his personal charisma in the service of a youthful commitment "to do some great thing for God," but has manifested an expansive spirit that consistently reaches out to enlist an ever-widening circle of individuals and groups to join him in that effort. From revivals supported by small knots of fundamentalists and evangelicals to crusades and conferences and global missions in which Christians of every stripe and color and culture work together in common cause, Graham has been a powerful, perhaps unique, force for Christian ecumenism. Our individual lives, this nation, the world, and the church of Jesus Christ are richer for that fact.

We are all aware that Graham's career is in its closing years. Regardless of who assumes leadership of BGEA, no one is going to step readily into Billy Graham's place as the world's most famous evangelist. It just doesn't work that way. Charisma cannot be bequeathed. It may be that in 10, 20, or perhaps 50 years from now, some young man or woman with just the right combination—a combination easy to describe but apparently harder to embody—will arise to join the elite ranks of world-class heavyweight evangelists. It may be that developments in transportation and communication will enable the new light to shine more brightly than Graham's ever could, just as jet power and radio and television and satellite technology have enabled him to reach more people than any of his predecessors could have dreamed possible. But unless and until that happens, Billy Graham has to be regarded as the best who ever lived at what he does-"a workman," as Scripture says, "that needeth not to be ashamed."

William Martin is a professor of sociology at Rice University in Houston, Texas, and the author of A Prophet with Honor: The Billy Graham Story (William Morrow).

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