It’s only 8 o’clock as I type this but it feels like midnight. Long day. This morning I worshiped with the exciting, enthusiastic, rocking El Buen Pastor (Good Shepherd) Baptist Church in Metairie where Gonzalo Rodriguez is another el buen pastor. The choir was filled, the platform was crammed with singers and musicians, the walls were lined with extra chairs, the building was packed, and the place was shaking with joy. They were celebrating and dedicating the restoring of their sanctuary and educational buildings following Katrina’s damage, and breaking the news of two additional houses adjoining their campus that have just become available to them. I told them I didn’t understand a word they said, but I would join their church out of the sheer joy of their praise. And the fact that they love to eat.

To ride the bus to the New Orleans Arena for the 4 o’clock service, we had to meet at the church at 2 pm. I decided the parking and traffic headaches last night were enough to last me for a while, so I boarded the bus with my grandchildren and their parents and a lot of other nice people. “Do you know Billy Graham’s three favorite foods?” the lady in front of me asked. “No. I wouldn’t have a clue. He’s a man. Steak, probably.” “No, they all come in cans. Vienna sausage, pork and beans, and canned tomatoes.” “Really? That sounds like something men eat in a boat in the middle of the lake.” “I heard it somewhere.” She also knew his birthday, and picked my brain on the few conversations I’ve had with the famous evangelist. Who knew Mr. Graham had a groupie.

“Throw your water bottle away,” the stern official-looking lady at the arena gate said. “It’s the rule. No outside beverages.” Inside, water bottles went for three bucks. The concession stands had long lines, and people were carrying hot dogs and cokes inside prior to the service. I understand it, it just seems a little strange.

I ran into old friends and met new ones. Tom Hearon, missionary to Italy, and our “son” whom we adopted when he was a student at Mississippi College 35 years ago, drove down from Picayune, Mississippi, where he and others are working as volunteers this week. He’s coming to our Wednesday pastors meeting in LaPlace.

If we had 13,000 in attendance last night, the Times-Picayune’s figure, I’m eager to see what it was this evening. The arena was packed, even the bad seats behind the stage where they had to watch it on the small screens, even that was taken. Cliff Barrows said, “Thousands are watching in the overflow area set up.” (A friend sent me an editorial from the Winston-Salem newspaper the other day in which the editor was lambasting New Orleans for restoring the Arena when so many thousands of homes are in ruins. It was all for basketball, the writer said. I responded to my friend that the Arena had taken water only in the lower area where the locker rooms are located, and that this is the only place in town big enough to accommodate the Billy Graham meeting, and this criticism was utterly unfair.)

David Crosby announced to the crowd that on August 26 Anne Graham Lotz will be in New Orleans presenting her Bible teaching conference called “Just Give Me Jesus.” Everyone was thrilled.

Kathy Radke led the opening prayer. She’s on various leadership committees around town and works as a chaplain in a local jail. She said, “In jail we pray a lot. Especially before court dates. We’re praying for New Orleans as it prepares for its court date when it shall stand before the Lord.”

Cliff Barrows called our attention to the protestors outside with their literature and bull horns. “They’re not with our group and we do not recommend them. We suggest you tell them ‘no thanks’ when they offer their literature. Or give them a verse of Scripture.”

The place erupted when Nicole Mullen was presented. She is an outstanding Christian singer. Afterward, Tommy Walker led in praise choruses. Then Ricky Skaggs. Mr. Bluegrass. I do love that man and his family, the Whites. His music was my kind, but probably a little out of place among all the other we heard.

Cliff Barrows introduced 97 year old George Beverly Shea. “He calls himself ‘the history channel,’ Cliff said to our laughter. The audience jumped to its feet to welcome this great gospel singer. Later, a Catholic friend who rode our bus said, “Joe, I loved Bev Shea. I’d never heard him before.” I said, “You never heard George Beverly Shea? Where have you been?” “Hey, I’m a Catholic.” I said, “Catholics don’t have radios?” He laughed and said, “We do, but we don’t listen to your Baptist preachers and singers.” “See what you’ve been missing?”

Franklin Graham walked to the podium and gave his testimony, then introduced his father. The congregation stood and applauded all the time they helped Mr. Graham to the pulpit area. He settled into a circular pulpit with a chair behind him if needed, and laid out his notes in front of him, and began to speak slowly.

“I told the mayor that rebuilding New Orleans is like trying to eat an elephant. You do it one bite at a time.”

“A crazy cowboy started shooting off his guns in town one day. Just then an old furrier came in from the hills with his donkey. ‘Old man,’ the cowboy said, ‘have you ever danced?’ ‘No,’ the old man said. ‘Well, learn,’ said the cowboy as he emptied his guns at the man’s feet. When he finished, the old man took down a sawed off shotgun and stuck it in his face and said, ‘Have you ever kissed a donkey?’ ‘No,’ he said, ‘but I’ve always wanted to.'” (Mr. Graham left the story lying there, while all us preacher-types wanted to apply it for him. Something like: “I’ve never preached here before, but I’ve always wanted to.” He has, of course, so I’m not quite sure what application he would have made of it.)

Twice during this time people around me were talking on cell phones. I wanted to scream, “What’s wrong with you people? Get off the phone!” I didn’t, you’ll be glad to know. I just glared at them and they got off.

He told another joke, this one dealing with Baptists and Catholics, making it appropriate to our area. He told of the senior George Bush speaking at the funeral of Coretta Scott King and getting a page of his notes out of order. “I have notes,” he said. “Mine may get lost too.”

His sermon delivery was quiet and thoughtful and vintage Billy Graham. God is Creator. God is Spirit. He is holy and the judge and love.

“Man has a terminal disease,” he said. “Sin. We have the sentence of death in us. War does not increase the death rate. Katrina didn’t. For all men are appointed to die. One out of every one person will die. The ultimate statistic. Very few of us will be alive 75 or 80 years from now.”

“Hell is real.” Mr. Graham remembered the time a student confronted him following a message to inform the evangelist that he did not believe in hell. The preacher said, “Let me ask you. If you go to the airport and find that there is a 10% chance the plane won’t make it, would you take that flight?” “No.” “Then, even if there is a one percent chance of hell’s existence, why take it?”

At this point, he took a drink from a glass of water and said, “Good New Orleans water.” Everyone laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Mayor, for all the services coming back.” A plug for Chocolate City’s Ray Nagin who is running for re-election on April 22. Without skipping a beat, Mr. Graham then said, “Jesus is also coming back. What must we do to prepare?”

The answer is repent and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ.

Speaking of the cross and Jesus’ payment for our sins, he told of Mel Gibson bringing a copy of “The Passion of the Christ” to West Virginia where the Graham team was having a retreat. He showed the preview and they talked about it. “There were nine minutes of the flogging of Jesus,” he said, adding, “That’s real. That’s what it was like. When Mel showed the film to Pope John Paul II, he said, ‘That’s what it was like.'”

“On the cross, Jesus prayed for those who crucified Him. I believe in Heaven some of the soldiers who crucified Jesus will be there. Because He prayed for them.”

“The paper says I have Parkinson’s. I do, but that’s minor compared to what I really have. I’ve had four operations on my brain. I have two shafts (stents?) in my brain right now. I can feel them. One night I almost died. In the darkness, I called on God. Suddenly all my sins from childhood on came before me. Underneath was written: ‘The blood of Jesus Christ cleanses us from all sin.'”

“If you’re not certain of your salvation,” he said, “you need to be certain. I want you to get up right now and come and stand here. We’ll wait for the others to come and then I want to have a word of prayer with you, and a counselor will give you a book some of our people have put together. It has a letter from me and some Bible studies.”

Just that simple, and they started coming. Ten minutes later when he led them in the sinner’s prayer, the court area in front of the stage was filled. Cliff Barrows had asked those in the overflow area to stand in front of the screen.

To my knowledge, the Graham team will not release figures anytime soon on the numbers of people making various kinds of decisions. Which is just as well. The truth is God alone knows the results of these two days of meetings. To measure their effectiveness, one would have to factor in all the “Christian life and witness” training meetings held to prepare counselors. He would need to add the door to door work of volunteers getting the message out, and the prayers offered up, the sacrifices made, the donations given, the work accomplished. Only God is able. So we shall leave this to Him.

I’ll say this. Often the greatest results are not visible for a generation. Guitarist and singer Dennis Agajanian said last night that he grew up in a church of 35 people. “My brother and I were the youth department,” he said, “and our preacher was a 75 year old.” Now think of that: old preacher, tiny congregation, two kids. And one of them becomes a world-famous musician who spreads the old man’s message of Christ from one end of the world to the other. Pretty successful, wasn’t he.

Outside the arena, the activists were holding up large signs consigning us to hell, and you could hear someone’s loud voice warning us. Satan is alive and well, and loves to use religion for his battleground. As far as I could tell, no one was paying them any mind. We had been worshiping the Lord Jesus Christ, and had seen large numbers of people open their hearts to Christ. As Nehemiah said on another occasion, “We are doing a great work and cannot come down.”

We loaded up our bus, and then sat there. Thirty minutes. “What are we waiting for?” “Two ladies who are not here.” When he called their names, I remembered them, but could not recall seeing them on the trip in. “Surely by now they’ve made other arrangements for transportation,” someone said. But we waited. Ten more minutes. “You the bus from Kenner Baptist?” a man said. “Yep.” “Well, I’ve got two ladies here who got on the wrong bus.” We all clapped and welcomed them. But we could not leave because our bus driver had gone looking for them. Another ten minutes. One thing about it: the streets were clear now, so the drive back to the church went smoothly. We were all tired and happy.

“As far as I know,” Billy Graham said, “This is my last evangelistic sermon.” If so, the children in our group will be hearing about him the rest of their lives, and will be proud to say they heard his final message. But whether it turns out to be the last one or not, it was a great moment, one we will all cherish.

At one point, it occurred to me that the people inside this arena were the focus of prayers ascending from points all over the world. The Graham team had enlisted prayer support from their partners over the globe. What a privilege. What a blessing.

Thank you, Father.