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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It was 1991 and Mission Scotland had finally arrived, My dad's big dream of being choirmaster had come true, At Murryfield his 1000 voice choir blasted Just As I Am, In Celtic Park 800 sang When I Survey to the Lamb. My dad had asked me on the up-run to Life Has Meaning "Would you like to meet Billy Graham, Rhoda?" One off. But I said no, because I was scared of being mistaken, Misrepresented as born again since I was Christian atheism. It could've been only myself who postulated mere historicity: The human Jesus who was crucified collaboratively, he is dated, Polar to Jesus the Son of God who is living today in hearts, sensed, A constant saviour set on ransoming more than being related. The text was just that, a text, almost as in a text book, literature, Read the bible rationally with all atheistic mechanisms and bells, Saw the ancient societies evolve, heard warnings felt angers boil, Around the medical doctor man who removed Israel's prayer cells. Anyway, my dad convinced me to join him for tea with Billy Graham, So I did, but was accustomed to dining with many important people, With whom, if I could, I enjoyed good conversation, which was relevant, And this time we discussed his anthropology degree very pertinent. After the meal, a knock made me smile when I relaxed in my room, And it was Billy himself to chat about if I believed in Jesus as Lord. We got deep and intellectual about Jesus as my Lord or just as the Lord, Because I had to convince him there was a difference, personal. However, he almost instantly retracted his words 'cos he could not stand To leave, since I was relational to him as someone who understood, Who Jesus was, a person parallel to MLK or Siddhartha Gautama heroised, So he chatted with me again, this time differently, with love personified. But, in the weeks afterwards, my parents told me to be dumb, Not to tell anyone that I'd met the man who enthused Presidents, But that was not my way - the code of Christian church leaders, Who forged god out of their views, understandings and feeders. The intellectual chat espoused many laughs and chuckles at toddler terrain, But eventually we parted communities: his the church, mine the Third Quest, I decided to be honest with any health professional in my life, or a director, That I'd met Billy who'd initially excluded me from Christian belief/protractor. RIP Billy Graham
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