A voice that now rings out in heaven

HE swayed into the sofafilled lounge of an Oxford hotel as if about to break into a muscular charge of the American football he played in his youth.

It was a rainy day in February 1980, that I interviewed the well built Billy Graham. He carried a large Bible in his mighty right hand – a Bible he would quote frequently from when he addressed “the Godly folk of Oxford” later.

He exuded an immensely strong power that electrified audiences around the world. And even in the calm of that hotel lounge, it was clear he had not lost any of his vocal strength.

“The Good Lord has blessed me and given me the ability to preach to those in need of spiritual balm,” he said, his dark blue eyes sparkling.

IMPOSING

His message remained unchanged – Adam and Eve, Christ the Saviour, and the healing ways of Christian truth. He believed that there was a Godly reason for everything – including a painful, rib-bruising fall he had suffered in the shower.

Physically, he was an imposing man with a fine head. He could have been a Roman emperor with that profile. When he first visited Britain in 1954, he typified the fire and brimstone style of bellowed evangelism.

But the years had softened his style and he read from the Good Book in gentle tones.

“Ah still receive a mighty personal thrill when I declared the Word of the Lord. It has been my joy all my life,” he said in an accent so Southern he could easily have been “Big Daddy” in one of those plantation dramas.

That night he preached in that unmistakable deep toned voice that was Billy Graham. A voice now ringing out in heaven itself.