BY WALT ALBRITTON
OPINION —
We buried our boy, our only child, on a lovely day in May. Our hearts were burdened with grief. That summer we sought relief from our sorrow by taking a vacation at Lake Junaluska, North Carolina. Billy Graham would be preaching in a conference on evangelism. If there really was “a balm in Gilead,” we wanted to find it.
Listening to Billy Graham preach for a few days might be the tonic we needed for our sin-sick souls. The death of our son, after long months of suffering, had not broken us but our hearts were heavy. We needed healing.
Graham was as stirring as ever. Stuart Auditorium could seat 2,000 and it was packed for every service. We stood in a long line one day and finally got to shake Graham’s hand. We were awed by his persuasive preaching.
Will E. Sangster, a preacher from England, shared the pulpit with Graham. We had not heard of him, but it was Sangster whom God used that week to bring healing to my wounded heart. His words were captivating, penetrating my heart. He spoke with unusual authority, intensity and conviction.
Every word Sangster spoke had the ring of truth. I felt God speaking directly to my questioning mind, answering questions I had not even asked. Never had I been more convinced that almighty God himself was speaking to me. I listened intently, soaking up what seemed to me eternal truth.
My sorrow was compounded by many questions. If God is love, why had he allowed our little boy to die? Why had God not healed him in answer to our prayers? Why should a child who had done no wrong have to suffer like our son had? Why had God given him to us and then taken him away before he could grow up? Was his death punishment for our sins? Is God really “out there,” and if he is, why doesn’t he answer me when I beg for his help?
Finally, there in the beautiful mountains of North Carolina, God was replying. He had been silent when David was suffering. Now, two months after our son’s burial, God was speaking. He spoke to me through the voice of his servant, Sangster. How do I know this? I know because I was there and heard his voice in my heart. I remember it like it was yesterday.
I had felt sorry for Sangster. He would be no match for Billy Graham in the pulpit. But I was wrong. Sangster was older and wiser. And though his style was quite different from Graham, the man could preach. As the week went on, I realized we were listening to two of the world’s greatest preachers.
What did I hear from God? Not what I wanted to hear, believe me. I wanted something soothing; what I got was disturbing, yet profoundly helpful.
Sangster said, “You must stop dealing with your problems. You must deal with God! You get nowhere grappling with cancer or some tragedy. You must wrestle with God, for God is the sovereign God of the universe and he allows whatever happens to you. He does not will evil, but he allows it. The world is not out of control; God is in control, and he permits bad things to happen. For me, that was an entirely new concept with which to wrestle.
Sangster insisted that God has a purpose in allowing tragedy even though we may never understand why he allows it. We can find peace only by accepting God’s sovereignty and believing that in all things God is always working for our good. God is not accountable to us for his actions; on the contrary, we are accountable to God for our actions and behavior. And, Sangster asserted, God loves us even when he allows bad things to happen in our lives.
As much as I was able, I responded to God by surrendering to him my stubborn, agnostic questioning. I began rethinking our son’s suffering and death in a new light. I realized it was time to embrace the message God had given me through a preacher I would never hear again, a message that was the strong medicine my sick heart needed. My loving Father was using the “balm in Gilead” to heal my wounded soul.
A year or so later word came from England that Sangster was dying, having lost the voice that was like thunder in Stuart Auditorium to a muscular disease that was paralyzing his nervous system. That great pulpit voice would soon lie silent in the grave. But before his death, Sangster wrote a simple message to his new friend Billy Graham: “Tell people that the gospel works when a man is dying.”
I have journeyed to Lake Junaluska many times, heard many inspiring speakers and enjoyed the beauty of those North Carolina hills. But never have I been as deeply moved as I was that summer long ago.
On a clear day I can close my eyes and still hear the thundering voice of Will Sangster reverberating within the walls of Stuart Auditorium. It was a time when God spoke – and I heard him. It was the glorious time when I received from my heavenly Father the healing medicine my sick heart needed.
