When the name Billy Graham became nationally known, so many tourists showed up each day at the Graham home just outside of Asheville, North Carolina, that eventually the family purchased several acres of mountain land and built a log house where they could have some privacy. Since Billy was away preaching most of the time, Ruth oversaw the construction, taking along the couple’s oldest child, Franklin, who was intrigued by the workers, their tools—and especially by their cigarettes.
“I caught on that if I ran quick enough when they pitched a cigarette,” Franklin later recounted, “the butt would still be lit. I would grab one and puff away, thinking no one would notice.”
But his mother would often notice, and would coming running over to grab the cigarette out of his mouth and lecture him on the evils of smoking. The workmen seemed to enjoy the sideshow, so they kept pitching half-smoked cigarettes in Franklin’s direction. A bad habit began early.
One evening shortly afterward, in an effort to break Franklin of smoking, Ruth borrowed a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and handed it to Franklin. “Now light it and smoke it,” she snapped, “and be sure to inhale.” She wanted Franklin to get sick, hoping he’d lose his desire to smoke. After the second cigarette, his face turned green, and he ran to the bathroom and threw up. But he stubbornly came back for more, and by the end of the night he had finished all twenty.
The years passed, and one day in 1974 Franklin, now a young man, yielded his life at last to Jesus Christ. But one of the things that most surprised him following his commitment to Christ was discovering his taste for cigarettes as strong as ever. He genuinely wanted to quit smoking, but it proved nearly impossible. He later explained that he would wake up at night with “an absolutely overwhelming—almost terrifying—desire for a cigarette. I wanted to smoke so bad that I couldn’t think of anything else. It intensified with each passing minute. Throughout the day, the yearning for a cigarette grabbed me like the jaws of a junkyard dog.”
He finally shared his struggle with his friend Roy Gustafson. “Roy, I quit smoking, but I don’t think I can hold out. I just don’t think I have the power to say no any longer.”
“Oh, you don’t, huh?” replied Roy, looking up from a hamburger. “Why don’t you just get down on your knees and tell God He’s a liar?”
“What? I can’t do that!”
Roy quoted 1 Corinthians 10:13 to him: No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it.
Then, looking at Franklin, he said bluntly, “You need to tell God He’s a liar. You claimed that verse and it didn’t work.”
“I’m not going to call God a liar,” said Franklin, alarmed. “Besides, I haven’t claimed that verse yet!”
“You haven’t?” said Roy, sounding shocked. “Why don’t you, then?”
Franklin did claim that verse. And it did work