A Tribute to Billy Graham: A Voice in the Storms of Life
The day I received the news of Billy Graham’s passing, I was sitting at my desk taking attendance at the small Christian school where I taught. My sister Kathy texted me the news, and the wave of emotion that followed was so strong I had to step out into the hallway to collect myself. As I stood there, I was overwhelmed by the impact this man—whom I had never met personally—had on my life. And I knew I wasn’t alone. I shared that grief, and that deep gratitude, with millions around the world.
Billy Graham didn’t just change the world; he changed my world.
Back in 1998, while camping in New York, my late father shared with me the story of the night he knelt in front of the television in our farmhouse in Weedsport, New York, watching Billy Graham’s 1966 London Crusade. That night, he gave his life to Christ. It was a quiet moment in a living room, but it redirected the course of our family’s history. Years later, when we celebrated my father’s life in 2017, I played a clip from that same crusade. I said then—and I still believe it now—there were two heroes in our house: my dad, and Billy Graham.
Not long after that life-changing night, my father responded to another altar call, this time led by evangelist David Wilkerson in upstate New York. That moment began his journey into ministry, eventually leading him to serve with Wilkerson at the original Teen Challenge center as a bookkeeper. He worked closely with David and Don Wilkerson, Nicky Cruz, and others. He even drove Mrs. Wilkerson to her outreach café, the Lost Coin Café, where Teen Challenge students ministered to addicts and drifters. That chain of events started with a message preached in London and broadcast across the ocean—Billy Graham’s voice reaching a man on his knees in rural New York.
President Trump Eulogy of Graham
Years later, when the President of the United States began Billy Graham’s eulogy at the Capitol with the words, “Starting at a small Bible school in Florida…,” something stirred in my heart. As an alumnus of Trinity College of Florida—the very school where Billy studied—those words felt personal. After coming to Christ myself on September 11, 1994, I eventually chose to attend Trinity because of Billy Graham’s influence on my family’s spiritual legacy. I remember my dad once taking me to see him preach in Tampa. Johnny and June Carter Cash were there, and we sat high up on the stadium’s west side. Between songs, June told a story about fishing with the Grahams at Green Key—a place that’s sacred to me for my own reasons, full of childhood memories of sailing and camping. In that moment, the lines between faith, family, and memory blurred beautifully.
When Billy Graham passed, I was in the middle of a personal storm. I had recently lost my dad, my brother, and a close friend and pastor who had encouraged me to return to Trinity and finish my degree. I was navigating life as a single parent, working full-time, emotionally and spiritually exhausted. His passing felt like the loss of a steady lighthouse—another pillar gone.
September 2001
But my deepest connection to Billy Graham’s ministry came years earlier, on a dark day: September 7, 2001. That was the day we learned that our unborn son had spina bifida. We were five months into the pregnancy and had been considering the name James, after a dear friend and mentor. The geneticist at USF told us we should consider ending the pregnancy due to the severity of the diagnosis. We were devastated. The opinions from those around us varied and collided. Though we were firmly pro-life, the weight of that moment was nearly unbearable.
That evening, as dusk settled, I walked to the mailbox. Inside was a single piece of mail: Decision magazine. It was addressed to my late mother, who had passed away in 1999. I had never received an issue before, nor have I since. On the cover was an image of a stormy sea and a headline that seemed written just for us: “Peace in the Storms of Life… by Billy Graham.” The message was centered on Joshua 1:9.
I brought it inside and showed my wife. We knew, in that moment, our son’s name would be Joshua.
Years later, our older son Johnny would carry Joshua 1:9 engraved on a small shield he attached to his dog tags during his deployment to Afghanistan. Unbeknownst to us, he also arranged for part of his military pay to be donated to the Spina Bifida Association—his way of honoring his younger brother’s journey.
Joshua 1:9 has become a cornerstone in our family:
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
Billy Graham didn’t just preach the gospel—he lived it. His words found us in hospital rooms, in stadiums, through televisions, and in mailboxes. He reminded us of God’s faithfulness in the calm and in the chaos. His voice echoed through the most sacred and the most broken places in our lives.
And when he passed, it felt like the world grew a little quieter—but the echo of his faith still rings loud in our hearts.
Thank you, Reverend Graham. You were a voice in our storms. And for that, we are forever grateful.