Billy Graham’s latest, and possibly last, book will go on sale later this month. It is entitled “Nearing Home: Life, Faith, and Finishing Well.”
KirklandIn previewing the book, Graham, in his 90s, said, “I never thought I would live to be this old.”
But he has, and not without purpose, he believes. The North Carolina evangelist believes it’s clear in the Bible that God has a specific purpose for keeping us here.
And his book asks, and seeks to answer, questions rightly raised: What is God’s purpose for keeping us here? How can we align our lives with that purpose? How can we learn to cope with the fears, struggles and increasing limitations of the older years and actually grow stronger inwardly in the midst of the difficulties?
In the book, Graham’s audience is everybody “on this side of heaven” as he covers the value of understanding the gift of years and facing the transitions involved, including the deaths of loved ones.
The beloved evangelist invites readers also to explore the hope, the fulfillment and even the joy that can be ours as we look at the older years from God’s point of view and discover His strength to sustain us every day.
For Graham, the issue is much more than just growing older; rather, with God’s help, it’s about growing older with grace.
No doubt, Graham gives himself to much contemplation these days, thinking on the things of God and of life. He remains a spiritual pilgrim. He is not home yet, as the title of his book points out. He still is learning more about this God he serves and his Christ.
Five years ago, when Graham was only 87, he was featured in an article written for Newsweek magazine. Its title: “Pilgrim’s Progress.”
Graham, in that Newsweek article, underscored how important it is especially for Christians to “sit still for a few minutes a day” and think deep thoughts about a God whose “ways and means are veiled from human eyes and wrapped in mystery.” He added, “There are many things that I don’t understand.”
A prince of preachers, Gardner Taylor, formerly pastor of Concord Baptist Church of Christ in Brooklyn, N.Y., also in his 90s, said in an interview years ago that he devotes more time now to a practice described by 19th century British pastor Alexander McLaren as “sitting silent before God.”
Taylor commented, “This is not praying. It is not reading. It is just opening oneself. It’s a mystic kind of thing. But we do so little of it, and we who preach are likely to engage ourselves in so many things and neglect that aspect of being open to what God has to say. I wish to heaven I had practiced this more early on in my ministry.”
A former South Carolina pastor, Harold Seever, often was heard to say, “When you can improve on silence, speak.”
Quietness is hard to come by in our culture, which appears to value sound over silence.
Silence is that wonderful commodity that allows us, prods us, even forces us to turn our thoughts inward to allow the self-examination that is required of any Christian pilgrim who wants to make progress on life’s spiritual journey.
Many are uncomfortable with silence. I am, at times. If I have to wait long (or at least what I consider long) for a response from the Sunday school class I teach, I give my own response. Finally, the silence gets to me. But must every void be filled with sound?
I did my student teaching at Wardlaw Junior High in Columbia. I was in college and knew less than I ever imagined possible. Mrs Haltiwanger knew how to handle those often unruly 8th graders, though. When their chatter began to block out the lessons she was trying to teach them, she didn’t yell. She whispered, and they became quiet. We need — I need — to be responsive to the “still, small voice” of God who will teach us spiritual lessons if only we will listen — quietly.
Our oldest grandson is now a freshman in college. When he was 5, my wife and I took him to the beach one summer. We visited a shopping mall in Myrtle Beach. The mall had an indoor carousel. Not surprisingly, our grandson wanted to ride it. It only cost 50 cents. Why not? He picked out the horse he wanted to ride and I set him on it. Then I noticed that he was the only child on the merry-go-round. I was afraid he wouldn’t want to ride alone. “Do you want to get off?” I asked him. “Is it okay that you’re the only one riding?’ He replied, “It’s okay, Papi, I can use the peace and quiet.”
So can I. And so can you. But we must use the peace and quiet wisely. We must listen for the still, small voice of the God who loves us and knows what is best for us — if only we’ll listen. No gift we can give to God is more precious to Him than our listening ear.