Two of the greatest ministries of twentieth-century Christianity are making a mark on a new new generation — the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association and Columbia Internationl University.

Today it was my joy to address the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association in Charlotte, North Carolina, and tonight I’m at Columbia International University, where I have the honor of giving the commencement address tomorrow. I cannot describe the impact these two institutions have had on my life.

If you’re in the Charlotte area, please make a visit to the Billy Graham Library. It’s like reading a biography and attending a crusade both at once, and it’s deeply emotional, meaningful, educational, and motivating. If you travel through Columbia, South Carolina, take time to drive onto the campus of CIU, a school with the historic mission “to know Him and to make Him known.”

David Gibson, our TDF intern who is traveling with me this week, and I are deeply grateful for the hospitality given us by our friends at BGEA and CIU. Here are some pictures, including David in Billy Graham’s private office; and Mr. Graham’s favorite desk.

We had a terrible scare yesterday. Katrina called me about noon and told me the doctor was very concerned about one of our two-year-old twin grandaughters, Audrey. The blood work indicated a bacterial infection they couldn’t identify. Her fever was frighteningly high, her blood counts out of whack, and she was anemic, dehydrated, and lethargic. Grace had taken her again that morning to the doctor’s office, and he had taken blood. Now the blood work was back and was alarming. The doctor said to take her at once to the Emergency Room at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital. I rushed to their house to find Josh standing with Audrey, stroking her hair and crying. Grace was throwing a few things in the diaper bag. I kept Ava while they left. We were all scared to death. When Victoria came to keep Ava, I went on down to the hospital and was there as the doctors came and went. They suspected that her system is being attacked by unknown bacteria, her white blood count was elevated, her red blood count was dropping. They were probably going to put her in ICU. Once the doctor said, “Often in cases like this we think of leukemia or meningitis, but this doesn’t seem to the case here.” Those are frightening words to hear. I left about supper to come home for awhile, and was just getting ready to go back down to Vandy when Joshua called with good news at last. A spot on a chest X-ray indicated the culprit might be a pneumonia that “had been hiding from” them. The doctors seemed much relieved; they know how to treat that. I’ve never been so glad to learn that a grandchild has pneumonia.
 

Meanwhile as I was keeping Ava in the early afternoon, she wanted to swing on the large glider in the backyard. She showed me just where to put my hands to push her, and she put her hands on the little bars in front of her. She wanted to go pretty high, so I was swinging her for ten or fifteen minutes, but all the time I was distracted with anxiety about Audrey and trying to ward off a panic attack. Finally I looked down to find Ava sound asleep! She was still holding on to the bars and still flying back and forth fast and high without a belt or harness. She’d been lulled to sleep by the rhythmic motion of the swing. She was dead to the world, yet somehow holding on and had not flown off the thing. Feeling like an idiot, I halted the swing and got her in my arms and she was as limp as a washrag and breathing in those deep snoring tones.

I thought it must be sort of like going asleep in church, lulled by the cadence of the preacher’s voice. How do people keep from falling off the pews?

May 6 – Our granddaughter, Audrey Rowe, 2, is very sick. The doctors at Vanderbilt are puzzled. She may be moved into ICU tonight as her white blood count is elevated and her red blood count is falling. We would appreciate your prayers.

Yesterday I had hoped the damages to The Donelson Fellowship were less than we had feared; today we realized they are worse; and our optimism about our church insurance also took a major hit. In my sermon last Sunday, I said that it’s alright to be alarmed at first, so I put that point into practice at once. But just as I was reeling, I overheard Sherry Anderson on the phone to friends of mine in Houston who are readers of my books and prayer warriors for our work. I told them what was happening, and they called back within minutes with news that an $12,000 check was on its way to help with our TDF Basement Renovations. It’s a blessed beginning, an initial token of God’s provision. The Lord will help us with our losses as we help our families who have suffered loss. Here are some pictures I took of TDF. The last shot is one I took this morning in the area below my house on Pennington Bend.

Lord, help us to handle difficult days spiritually, not emotionally.

Many of our TDF members who live down the street from me and in other parts of the city have lost their homes this weekend. The Pennington Bend area is devastated and the scenes of flooding are surreal. The Opryland Hotel, which I can see from my front porch, is flooded.

Katrina and I live on Pennington Bend, but our house is on the crest of a hill and thankfully we’re safe. But I wanted to give an account from my own limited perspective as to how quickly the flood rose.

On Friday night and Saturday, the rain became torrential and alarming news began coming of cars under water on the interstates. It was still raining on Sunday morning, and we had to make a decision about whether to cancel services. I checked with some other churches and they were having services for those who could come; and area businesses were still open including restaurants. So I decided to do the same at TDF.

In the minutes before the first service, the storms worsened. I wore old clothes and was drenched by the time I got to my office, where I changed into dress clothes. At the last moment, I changed my sermon to an extemporaneous message from 2 Chronicles 20. We made it through the first service, but some people had to leave to deal with water issues at their home.

Between services I inspected the lower levels of the building and was pleased to find no serious leakage. Word was coming in of roads being closed; and we abbreviated the second service. Afterward when I went downstairs I was bewildered to find everything flooded in our adult and youth areas, and in our beautiful new children’s ministry center. We all felt like crying, but there was nothing to do except wait for the waters to recede.

We cancelled evening services and left. Back home, the rain was falling in torrents and I went out in the downpour to dig trenches and try to divert the water from my house. It was coming down the gutters in tanker-fuls. 

Then I went back to the church and sloshed through the half-foot of water covering our basement carpet. It was still rising.

I met Van Stewart and his family there, and we learned that conditions were deteriorating on Miami Drive at the bottom of Pennington Bend. We got in his jeep to go see if we could help; but the road to Miami goes through a low-lying area and the water came up to the engine of the jeep.

When the engine stalled in high water, we jumped into the waters and pushed it out to dry ground, and went on foot to our friend’s house where neighbors and TDF members were trying to evacuate their possessions. The Cumberland River had already engulfed their basement and was almost to the door.  We worked in the pouring rain, carting out things without rhyme or reason and feeling sick over the quick dash of so many antiques, precious items, and important papers with no time for packing or care. We got everything into a truck, but unfortunately by that time it was too late to get the truck out.

Then news spread that the corps of engineers was opening the dam, and we had ten minutes or we’d be trapped. Almost everyone except the residents grabbed one last load then started leaving.

I was ready to try to get out on foot through the deep water, but Mike Bishop thought his truck might make it. I didn’t. But when Tim Polston forded the river with his truck, we decided to give it a try. The river came up to the hood of Mike’s truck, and the engine almost stalled several times. I don’t understand how we made it. It was as though the truck turned into a boat, and Mike forced it through, with a wake flying up into the windshield. We made it, but we were heartsick about our friends who stayed on what was now an island-street.

Back home, I changed into dry clothes again and then went back to TDF to see Jeff Nichols who was desperately trying to find a way to save our basements. He sent out word and about fifty people came to try to sweep out the water. We finally gave up.

All the time, we were beside ourselves worrying about our friends down the Bend and on Miami Ave. Word came that they were being rescued by boat, and one by one many of them arrived at the church. My most frightening moment was when I learned that two of our young men, along with another man, had been left behind and had tried fording a part of the river and were almost swept away. It’s a miracle they managed to regain their footing and climb to a point where they could be rescued.

For now, everyone is safe and housed. I’ll post some pictures tomorrow of the basements at TDF. Thanks to all who have prayed and worked so hard over the past forty-eight hours.

  Katrina and I just returned from a couple of nights at our family home at Roan Mountain, which doubles as a bed and breakfast. Here are some springtime pictures. If you’re interested in spending a night or two in the mountains (or a week or two), check out the website at www.roanmountainbedandbreakfast.com.

  For those needing a little extra courage to take the plunge, consider the story of our granddaughter, Chloe. Here’s the bedtime e-mail our daughter Victoria sent us last night about their outing to the YMCA. Ethan is away in Iraq, so Victoria and the seven girls have taken advantage of an offer the Y gives military families, and this week they’ve gone swimming a couple of times. Victoria wrote:

 Nothing like a quiet house! All the young ones are sleeping. We ate pizza for supper, and went to the Y. It was a good way to end the week. On Tuesday, all the oldest four, with the exception of Chloe, took the swimming test so that they could go into the deep end. Chloe struggled and struggled in the shallow end with me. She finally came over to me and said,”Mom, I’m disappointed in myself that I don’t have enough faith in myself to try.”

 So I told her three things: (1) That even if she never takes the plunge, she is just as special, and I love her just as much as if she passes a thousand swimming tests. (2) That she should use her mind and imagine herself doing it over and over until she believes it. (3) That the Lord is the One who helps us conquer fears because He is bigger and stronger, and He gives us strength on the inside.

 She mulled all of it over, and never took the test. Later that evening she told me she was imagining herself doing the swimming test. She struggled all night with this inner battle, and I just had to let her. There wasn’t anything I could do except let her struggle through the process.

 Tonight we had only been at the pool about 10 minutes and she came over to me and told me she was taking it and marched right to the lifeguard and told him. She swam from the deep end to the shallow end beautifully. I had to quickly wipe my tears, so she didn’t see me cry. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of her. That’s my girl!

 I think Victoria’s advice will work in any pool we’re in.

The last couple of days I’ve had the opportunity of speaking at workshops at the CPC Conference in San Diego; and my friend and fellow-TDF member, Kenneth Knight, came along for the ride (and to help with powerpoint). We took an extra day to drive up to Los Angeles and hike in Griffith Park. It was a spectacular day—no smog or fog or rain or haze. Here are some pics from my camera and from Kenny’s.

While in Pigeon Forge last weekend, I discovered a new sport – Zorbing.  It’s a New Zealand invention.  In essence, you bounce down the side of a mountain inside a rubber ball.  It puts quite a bounce in your step. It reminds me of when, as boys, we used to roll down the hill at Roan Mountain in a barrel. I’m a firm believer that one should never grow up.

Katrina and I had a very moving experience yesterday that we’ll never forget.  I officiated the funeral of Corporal Jeremy McLaren, 28, the first officer in the history of Spring Hill, Tennessee, to die in the line of duty.  His mother, Lois, attends our church and is in Katrina’s LifeGroup.  It was a long and emotional service, especially when Jeremy’s five-year-old nephew, dressed in a full police uniform, was inducted into the Spring Hill Police Force, a moment that brought the toughest officers to tears.

The motorcade to the cemetery was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.  There were hundreds of patrol cars in front of us and behind us, all with flashing blue lights.  As far as we could see, it was like a twinkling ribbon of blue. We processed through Spring Hill, tracing Jeremy’s patrol route one last time.  On the streets, groups of citizens gathered waving flags or with hands over their hearts.  Many were standing at attention and saluting.  City workers came out of their offices, children from their schools, men from their barber shops, families from the stores and restaurants.  All of them stood at attention while the hearse, surrounded by motorcycle escorts, passed by.  The fire department raised ladders on their trucks and suspended large American flags through which we passed.  Mourners stood on overpasses, waving flags.  Traffic was shut down on the freeways with cops standing at attention beside their vehicles at every ramp, saluting their fallen partner.

At the cemetery, Jeremy was honored with a rider-less horse, a full honor guard, a 21-gun salute, a helicopter flyover, bagpipes, a bugler playing taps from a nearby hillside, and a radio last call.

In my remarks at the funeral, I said that Jeremy had chosen a noble and proud profession; he was clad in blue and he served with honor.  He was part of a force that guards us day and night, keeps us safer than we know, and on whom our lives depend.  We can credit him with a job well-done and a life well-lived. And at the request of his family, I was able to present the Gospel to two thousand law enforcement officials and community leaders.  I spoke from John 11, so pray that the Word of God will bear fruit in someone’s life.

And as the Lord lays it on your heart, please remember his family in prayer.