Issue 032 PDF Version - Christian Ethics Today

An Old Friend and a Lesson in Grace
Ifirst met Bobby Wayne Graham as he passed me on a sidewalk
at the liberal arts college in Arkansas where I was campus
minister. My initial impression on that September
morning in ’73 was that this kid was scarcely taller than a
fence post and possessed a face as round as a pie tin. His chestnut
hair and full, bushy beard gave him the appearance of a
mountain man from some bygone era. But he was no more
mountain man than the Ozarks were real mountains.
Bobby Graham was born with the soul of a poet and the
heart of a prophet. His creator gifted him with an uncommon
sensitivity to the pain in this world. He hid a deep sadness
behind an easy smile that rolled into contagious laughter. But
more times than I found comfortable, I witnessed pain in his
dark eyes.
Only two students attended the last worship service I conducted
at that little college—Frank Ehman and Bobby
Graham. After the benediction, the three of us piled into my
beat-up Chevrolet and drove to a greasy spoon, where we
chased enchiladas with chocolate pie and laughter. The next
morning I would move to Dallas to begin a new chapter of my
life, and the last person in Batesville, Arkansas, to bid me
farewell was Bobby Graham.
Both Frank and Bobby went on to Austin Seminary, where
in three years they earned degrees and completed the requirements
for ordination in the Presbyterian Church. Frank served
with distinction for more than a decade in Austin, while
Bobby moved to Little Rock, where he founded a soup
kitchen.
In time, alcoholism ravaged Bobby. Eventually, he left his
parish and did his best to make peace with his myriad demons,
but the pain persisted. There was a disappointing pastoral stint
in Oklahoma followed by a time of healing again in Little
Rock.
Early one-morning years ago my phone rang and I picked it
up to hear a vaguely familiar voice. This caller was eager to
inform me that he was sober. All I recall saying was that I’d had
people call in the past to tell me that they were drunk but never
before had anyone interrupted my sleep to declare sobriety.
10 • FEBRUARY 2001 • CHRISTIAN ETHICS TODAY
By Bob Lively,
Teacher/Counselor at Riverbend Church, Austin, Texas
Editor’s Note: Bob Lively writes a bi-weekly column in the Austin-American Statesman, where this article first appeared September 30, 2000.
A laugh revealed the caller as Bobby Graham. He then surprised
me with a tale that I later recorded in a book. This story
concerned his first experience with Alcoholics Anonymous.
He told me that he had stumbled into his first meeting drunk.
He bumped into a man who seemingly possessed the power to
stare a hole through his soul. Months later, he asked that same
gentleman to be his sponsor. This recovering alcoholic was
quick to inform my friend that he had once been a regular at
Bobby’s soup kitchen. He followed that announcement with
words that knocked my friend’s legs out from under him: “I’ll
sponsor you, but you don’t know God. You think you do, but
you don’t.” Years later, Bobby would say those were some of
the most healing words he would ever hear.
Three years ago my telephone rang again. The voice said,
“If you’re not too important, you can drive downtown right
now and pick me up and buy me a cup of coffee.” Within
minutes I had Bobby Graham in the cab of my pickup, and for
the next two hours we laughed as we marveled at the power of
grace to heal both of us.
It was during that brief visit that I experienced this man at
peace for the first time in 25 years. His demons had been
accepted and even blessed by an inner grace that had taught
him an attitude of gratitude.
Last Sunday evening, my friend, Bob Shelton, president of
Austin Seminary, preached at a Presbyterian church in Helena,
Arkansas, where Bobby was installed as pastor. Bobby Graham
had been discovered by some “salt of the earth” folks who were
willing to give him another chance. At the conclusion of the
worship, he stood and turned to face his new congregation. He
raised his hands and pronounced a blessing over people he was
not only willing but now also able to love. As he stepped
toward the congregation to kiss him mother, he collapsed and
died.
Upon receiving word of his death, I hung up the phone,
wiped tears from my eyes, and thanked God for allowing my
good friend Bobby Graham to exit this life in much the same
way he came into it—on the wings of a prayer. ■