Our time

Elvis has left the building.

This past week, Billy Graham was FINALLY welcomed Home.

I’m so happy for him. He waited so long. Lost his beloved wife of 64 years back in 2007, he had been waiting for the final boarding call for a while now. Probably longer than we can imagine.

And while I’m rejoicing for him, I gotta confess something:

I’m a little freaked out.

Billy Graham and all the Holy Spirit he carried is now gone. I have never known a world without him in it. And while I know he wasn’t the one holding it all together, it was just comforting knowing he was out there, praying, interceding, holding down the fort, keeping an eye on this world full of crazy kids, making sure things didn’t get TOO out of control.

Although lately, it sure hasn’t seemed under control. But if that’s how bad it is WITH Billy Graham here, well, what’s gonna happen NOW? Part of the Holy Spirit’s job description is ‘restrainer.’ No matter how bad off the world seems, it would be much worse without the Holy Spirit residing in believers.

Do I think Rev. Graham had more of the Holy Spirit than any other Christian? No, I don’t.

But he sure seemed to listen and yield to Him more than the average bear.

So NOW what do we do?

I see only one option: We step. The bleep. Up.

Last year, Brad and I were attending the Generous Giving Conference here in Orlando. They always have an impressive speaker lineup and this year was no exception. Saturday night was the legendary Ravi Zacharias. (Watch his talk here.)

Now Mr. Zacharias is no spring chick. Most people think you’re allowed to slow it down at age 71. Heck, Jill Briscoe is 83. But they know the Bible much better than I do and I don’t think they’ve found much evidence in there to support the concept of ‘retirement.’

But that night, Ravi spoke a very challenging message to a massive room full of people: We’re up. It’s OUR turn now.

And I’m starting to believe him.

When the main characters of the most popular show on TV are exactly your age, you start considering the possibility that you might be a grown up. When I watch Seinfeld, they’re all old. When I watch Friends, they’re all old.

But when I watch This is Us and realize that The Big Three were born in 1979 and THEIR story is what the whole world is watching, it really hits me.

We’re not in Little League anymore. We’re not playing college ball or minor leagues. We’re in the Majors. Not in the dugout. Not on deck. We are UP.

That night after Ravi’s talk, we gathered with friends at the hotel bar to decompress. But instead, we ended up processing. We were sitting out on the pool deck, chairs pulled into a circle. We all talked about which part of his talk impacted us the most and then there was a heavy pause when it seemed to hit us all at the same time.

I raised my glass of Maker’s Mark. “To OUR TIME,” I toasted, quoting Ravi. Glasses clinked and everyone repeated, “To our time.” And then we took a drink. Maybe an extra swallow or two.

Over the past few years, I’ve been giving myself a little more rein, a little more rein. If there were ever a time to turn it loose, it’s now.

I was going to list a number of examples of current crises, but we know what they are. As much as I try to avoid the news, I still know. And so do you. It’s an incredibly disheartening list, a list we bemoan when all the world seems to be going to hell in a hand basket.

Along with the list of current events from around the world, I’m sure you have your own personal list that you carry around ‘deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties.’ (Name the movie. Go.) Private pain, personal issues, secret addictions, public shame. The list our enemy uses to keep us sidelined and silent.

And it’s been working far too long.

Here’s the truth.

As I mentioned before, the same Holy Spirit that resided in Billy Graham’s earthly body currently resides in me. So I have no excuse. The same love, the same power, the same comfort, the same fire that drive Billy Graham to share the gospel until Wednesday. I have it.

And if you are in Christ, so do you.

And it’s time.

It’s time to stop worrying that people will think you are a weirdo.

It’s time to throw off political affiliations for the sake of a greater allegiance.

It’s time to ignore those who call our faith intolerant and exclusive.

It’s time to talk to the homeless person on the sidewalk and finding out what they really need.

It’s time to throw your time and money into a cause that relieves human suffering.

It’s time to be different. It’s time to stand out, instead of killing ourselves to blend in.

It’s time to throw away our list of perceived disqualifications.

It’s time to listen to and get to know the Holy Spirit that resides in us. And let Him drive. Like Billy Graham did. Like Paul did. Like Jesus did.

I wept as I wrote last night, moved to tears by the sting of death.

I have the scripture ‘O Death, where is Thy sting?’ on a card sitting on my dresser. After some shuffling around, I walked by one day and noticed it was nestled against the picture of my beloved grandparents who died two years ago. And I smiled ruefully.

Death still stings. It doesn’t have the final say. It doesn’t last forever. But in these moments while we’re still here and others are not, it stings. And nothing can alleviate that pain.

The only thing that can lessen it, dull it a little, is hope. Hope in the promise that if my beloved deceased and I are both in Christ, we will see each other again. And next time, it will be forever.

Whenever I start to grieve the loss of a believer, I try to catch myself and think, “I wondering what he’s looking at right now. I wonder who she’s hanging out with.”

I can see Billy Graham, my D-Daddy and Jesus taking a break from

all their work and activity, sitting on a porch swing somewhere singing Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.

I still remember sitting next to D-Daddy in a church pew and listening to him enthusiastically belt out,

When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be!
When we all see Jesus, we’ll sing and shout the victory!

D-Daddy’s not just singing it in church in the hopes of its truth. He’s living it. And so is Me-Mommy and Mama Joyce and Aunt Mary and Papa and my Bible study girls, Alison Collier and Carmen Greiner and all of those who beat me there.

I wonder what they’re looking at right now.

There’s a new and yet very known face in the crowd. Billy Graham finally made it Home.

Who is going to take his place?
Who will fill those shoes?
Who will fearlessly proclaim the name of Jesus as the only way?

My instinctive reaction is to think of another famous pastor whose ministry is heading in a similar direction. Beth Moore fills stadiums. Maybe she’s the next great evangelist of our time. (Then again, you don’t get a whole lot of guys at those events.)

But then the answer slams into me like the flu did a couple weeks ago:

It’s us. This is us. It’s our time. Right now.

We can’t wait until we’ve memorized enough scripture, completed enough Bible studies, served as a deacon or elder, learn how to knit or make pies. We gotta start NOW, if we haven’t already.

People don’t listen to half-hearted Christians who fold as the first hint of resistance, toe a party line or try to blend in. You don’t gain credibility with the world by looking like everybody else. If Jesus changed everything for you, well, let’s see it. Philippians 2 says,

Shine. Like stars. Light in the darkness.

Thank you, Rev. Graham, for showing us how it’s done. Thank you for counseling our presidents, regardless of their belief or political party. Thank you for unapologetically holding firmly to the word of life and not watering it down to make it easier to accept. Thank you for living surrendered. We can no longer feign ignorance and say we don’t know how it’s done. Enjoy the party and save me a seat at the table. I’ll get there as soon as I can.

It’s our time now.