The Night I Stood with a Nation

Everybody has a Billy Graham story. Ruth (Bunny) Graham's statement at her father’s recent funeral takes me to the archives of my soul where I resurrect my own treasured memory.

Dark…cold…ominous…extraordinary. These words described feelings churning inside of me as Larry and I approached the front of Holy Trinity Church in downtown Warsaw, Poland. This October evening of 1978 the international political climate was every bit as cold as the night itself. The rumbling tram and the uneven wet sidewalk served as stage props for the drama playing out.

Billy Graham, the outspoken global evangelist was making his debut behind the Iron Curtain, and Warsaw was on his itinerary. We could not help but attend. Yet, this historical gathering caused a world to wonder about the outcome. Would there be repercussions for those gathered? Would the evangelist himself be safe?

Looking around I noticed men wearing long trench coats and floppy brimmed Fedora hats. Even as a novice to the global Cold War tensions, I knew some of these figures were on our side, and some were on the other side.

I remember wearing a scarf on my head—of all things. Somehow I felt a scarf would serve to mask my identity.  This American—a Christ follower, a child of NATO, and now an attendee at this extraordinary event in an atheist nation—just ducked her head and clutched her husband’s arm and continue toward the ancient majestic structure.

The crowd spilled over to the dark outside steps telling us that the inside space was already jammed packed. Would we be able to get inside the doors or would we stand in the cold with the clusters of men in trench coats? (We squeezed inside.)

Without hope of acquiring a seat, Larry inched us toward a spot in the back most corner near a pillar. Even inside, it was quite cold, and everyone stayed bundled in coats. I soon realized there would be no heat.

Fixed fast in our confining square of space, we began to wait. Long before the evangelist entered, my pregnant body grew weary. I leaned against Larry for support. No one spoke a word, and no one looked up or around to acknowledge those in close proximity. Every person in this mass of humanity preferred anonymity.

While I waited, and since Larry and I would not dare open our English-speaking mouths to chat with each other, I fantasized about meeting the evangelist. I stood on my tiptoes and peered toward the front as I tried to catch a glimpse of other people in his entourage—Ruth Graham, Cliff Barrows, George Beverly Shea, anyone of those associated with the same Cause that brought me to live as an undercover missionary. My efforts were to no avail; I could only see a sea of coats, hats, and other headscarves.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity and without fanfare, the man Billy Graham entered from a small door in the front of the giant structure. With that entrance a holy hush descended. There would be no music, no choir, no solos, and no testimonies from celebrities, no, not in this setting. Just a man, his translator, his Bible, and his Message.

From my space in the back by the pillar, I witnessed a miracle. Into this setting of cold Communist darkness, the bright light of the love of God and Word of God exploded. With respect, but with authority, Billy Graham did what Billy Graham always did: he shared the gospel of Jesus for a nation starved to know the Truth. Standing in an unfamiliar cold church in an atheist country, I felt enormously privileged to be a part of what this man believed.

And just like that, before I was ready, he was done. After asking for those deciding to receive Jesus to raise their hands, he closed his Bible, he turned, and he walked back through the same small side door, which carried him away from me. I felt sad and supremely happy at the same time. Desperately, I longed to talk to him and say, “Thank you for being so bold! Thank you for coming here! You brought Hope into a society that is desperate for hope. We are on the same team!”

Now as the world tells him goodbye, I thank God for my own Billy Graham story. I am deeply grateful for that one night when I stood with a nation as they experienced Hope.

Living with Eternal Intentionality™

Do you, or someone close to you, have your own Billy Graham story?

Chili You Can Trust

What comes to mind when you consider making a recipe of Chili? I am fascinated with the opinions that surround this meal in a bowl. For some of you, it is probably a bit of this and a bit of that, and you are confident the outcome will feed the family. For others of you, perhaps you are loyal to a time-honored family recipe that is now iconic.

One group of my friends insists on adding cumin; a different constituency would never even consider including celery. Some households serve Chili over rice, while others consider that sacrilegious.

All this fuss over Chili…

My mind returns to Cold War days in Poland when Chili was a complicated project. First, Larry would have to drive to a village, meet a farmer, select a steer, wait for the farmer to kill and butcher the steer, and then drive huge slabs of beef home in the trunk of our car.

This black market process sustained us, since food shortages and government regulations against the private farmer prevented ground beef from even appearing in the stores. And sometimes our family just needed a bowl of Chili (not to mention a hamburger, but this is not about hamburgers.)

The clandestine drive to the village and back to the city meant Larry would arrive home after the children were in bed, and he and I would then labor long hours creating ground beef. We unloaded the car in the garage, and slab-by-slab hauled the would be Chili into our tiny kitchen. Armed with cutting boards and butcher knives, we donned aprons and set to work.

Using a small German made food grinder the size of a one-cup measure, my husband and I ground and froze one chunk of fresh meat after another. Arduous, grueling, tiring hours of work stood between us and a bowl of Chili. But we managed.

Since those Communist days, I have landed my own favorite Chili recipe. It is not from one cookbook (though Betty Crocker is represented), one individual, or even one program on the Food Network. Rather, it is an amalgamation of my own taste testing preferences from across a variety of sources. This combination and these proportions will allow you to take the guesswork out of the process and opinions of others. I call this recipe:

Chili You Can Trust

Ingredients:

2 lbs. ground beef

2 cans tomato sauce (16 oz. each)

2 cans petite-diced tomatoes (16 oz. each)

2 cans Red Kidney beans undrained (16 oz. each)

2 cans Pinto beans undrained (16 oz. each)

Onion, extra large, diced

Celery, 3 long stalks chopped

Garlic 2 t. fresh (buy the small jar of diced garlic in the produce section)

Worchester sauce (2 T.)

McCormick Chili Spice Packet (original,1.25 0z.)

Cumin 1 t. (2t. won’t hurt)

Sugar 1 t. 

Instructions:

Brown the ground meat with onion, celery, and garlic in a large skillet or Dutch Oven.

Drain

While the meat drains, combine all the other ingredients in the same Dutch Oven

Simmer

Return the ground meat to the pot containing the other ingredients and bring to a low simmer

Afterwards, pour into a crock pot and cook for 6 hours on low.

Serve with assorted toppings of cheddar cheese and sour cream. Of course, cornbread is essential, but I will save that for another time. I confidently believe you will enjoy this hearty recipe of Chili.

Living With Eternal Intentionality™

Does your Chili recipe have a history? If so, please share the story with us.

This Day in History

If you Google© “This Day in History”, fascinating facts emerge from the page. Scientific breakthroughs, athletic accomplishments, and ingenious inventions from around the globe—and down through the ages—stand to capture one’s attention.

But I awoke today with the realization of my own personal This Day in History. Mine will not make the news, and it will not reach the printed page, but the reality is every bit written on my heart. Today, February 20th, 1977, I landed on a new continent that I would, for 33 years, call home.

In preparing to follow God’s supernatural call on our lives, (How Could You?!), Larry, our seventeen-month-old daughter, and I packed and left a land and family we loved dearly.  No turning back….Details of our deep feelings remain fresh.

The dramatic days leading up to our farewell in 1977 were tense and emotional ones for our families. Grasping at each chance to make the most of our minutes, we attended a livestock show, a rodeo, and a church Valentine’s party. The clock ticked as we struggled to shove everything into our eleven pieces of luggage. 

Our day of departure dawned, and a somber attitude surrounded the inevitable drive to the airport—last hugs and last words ensued. At the moment of letting go, Larry and I steeled our emotions, turned, and walked away. Leaving the gate area, we could only wonder when we would see these loved ones again. Only God knew.

That journey down the jet way took us from the familiar into the unknown. Global communication in the 70’s did not include Face Time or Skype, and international post took endless days.

I remember pretending to be brave.

As planned, we stayed overnight in New York, and the next day, on Saturday the 19th of February, dear friends drove us to JFK airport. Their son and our daughter were the same age, crib buddies we called them. This departure was also saturated with goodbyes. Again the stark reality confronted us: we were leaving; they were staying. On the curb, we stood and waved as their van pulled away.

For the transatlantic journey, our little girl wore a blue and red outfit complete with white lace socks and lace up shoes. We placed her on the check-in counter, and made a photo with the TWA Airline logo in the background.

Finally alone, a unique sweetness enveloped us; we were a family, and we made a team. Moreover, God was in this and God was with us. His marvelous, supernatural grace kicked in.

Airline personnel assigned us two seats on a three-person bulkhead row for the overnight flight to Vienna, Austria. Larry had the aisle, and I sat in the middle. Our toddler alternated between our laps. The stranger on our row, a Swiss businessman in the window seat to my right, was going home. He could hardly wait to be reunited with his wife and girls. The irony of the situation struck me—he was returning home and we were leaving home. This thought stayed with me the whole of the long transatlantic flight.

Our scheduled stopover in Switzerland was brief, and we proceeded in the air to Vienna. Now it was Sunday morning February 20th, 1977. Exhausted and not knowing any better, we put our toddler on the floor so that all three of us could nap. This made the flight attendant irate. Her scolding awoke us abruptly,  “You must take her seriously! You must take her seriously!” (She was right. We were just young, inexperienced, and desperately tired. Our 33 year journey had only just begun.)

With the rising of the early morning sun, our aircraft touched down in Vienna. Clad in brand new, warm down-filled coats, (Larry’s was royal blue, mine was burnt orange, and our daughter’s was bright yellow), we walked off the plane and into a marvelous, grace-filled life. Shirley Hinkson, with her children Jon and Joi, met us with enthusiastic waves and a bouquet of coral roses.

Ed and Coralee Murray and their family of four welcomed us into their home for our first few weeks. They introduced us to the spectacular new habit of drinking rich Viennese coffee from freshly ground beans.

A chiming coo-coo clock and hearty meals around their red checked Austrian table marked our initial days. Within just a brief few weeks we would make our first foray by train to the world behind the Iron Curtain. Soon, that Cold War world would become our world, our home. 

But those are other days in history. This is about just one: This Day in History…February 20, 1977.

Thank you, God. You were every bit Present. Though I dwell on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast (Psalm 139:9-10).

Living With Eternal Intentionality™

When is the last time you paused to remember This Day in History from your own life?

How does this reflection highlight the goodness of God to you?