One More Save

Bob Hughes sent me a link to a Slate.com story on Billy Graham's appearance at Camden Yards in Baltimore. The story was written by someone with a very different background from Graham, as you can tell from this opening paragraph:

Baseball parks smell like old beer. Church smells like incense. At one, I yell at umpires; at the other, I genuflect. I don't confuse the two—even at confession. But Sunday at Camden Yards, the Orioles' stadium, the beer nozzles were dry and everyone was praying, though there wasn't a censer in sight. I was there to hear Billy Graham preach, for what he said might be his last time before a large crowd. After his first tent revival 60 years ago, he officially retired in 2005, his body weakened by Parkinson's disease, cancer, and brain operations. He continues to preach, health willing, but since that isn't often the case these days, this was a rare opportunity to hear him.

The writer describes meeting Graham before the service, and then describes the reason Graham has preached for 60 years:

Then he said we're all going to hell. It was very literal. There was no windup or the verbal padding I'm used to from Catholic Church, where the priest talks in parables and inference that usually obscure the starker messages of sin and redemption. "You are going to die," he said. "I'm going to die. And after that, there will be a judgment. 'Every idle word that man shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the Day of Judgment,' the scripture says. When you break a law, you pay the price. You've broken God's law. We've broken the Ten commandments. If you've broken one of the commandments, you've broken them all. And we're all sinners. And we're all under the threat of judgment." It was spare and simple. He did not raise his voice. It was as if after all that rock, Woody Guthrie had hooked up his battered acoustic to the sound system. "Are you ready to die? You'd better decide for Christ here and now."

After speaking for 25 minutes, Graham made an altar call. He invited those who wanted to proclaim their faith to come down to the field to renounce sin and take up a life with Jesus as their personal savior. The aisles filled immediately, like they do when the visiting team scores a late-inning grand slam. People streamed onto the outfield. No security guards stopped them. Volunteers patted them on the arm.

Finally, the writer ends with an eloquent paragraph that Bob loved and so do I:

This was where the incongruity of the venue worked so powerfully. Graham's message wasn't just for Sunday or weddings or funerals. What he was offering was the promise of grace at any moment, including in left field under an Esskay hot-dog sign. Too frail to walk, the old man left the stage as he arrived, driven across the field on a golf cart. It's the same way they bring relief pitchers from the bullpen. He was departing after one more save.

There aren't many Christian writers who could have said that better.

I've had the privilege to hear Billy Graham in person twice in my life. The first time was in the late 60's as a teenager, and then again in 1985; both at Anaheim Stadium. On the latter occasion my dad invited me to join him in the choir for the last night of the crusade. That night every seat in the stadium was filled, and there were upwards of 20,000 people sitting in the outfield grass. To this day I believe that night still holds the single night attendance record at the stadium. It was something. The message was simple as described above, and the response huge...as always.

I've heard it said that the reason Billy Graham is still alive despite all his medical trials is that the angels have yet to come up with an appropriate enough welcome for him. I think that's probably true.