The great question of our time is, 'Will we be motivated by

“The great question of our time is, ‘Will we be motivated by materialistic philosophy or by spiritual power?’” — Billy Graham

In these thunderous words, Billy Graham, the voice of faith in an age of confusion, laid bare the eternal struggle that has haunted humankind since the dawn of civilization. His question is not of one age alone, but of all ages: what governs the heart of man—the glitter of matter or the glow of the spirit? When he spoke these words in the mid-twentieth century, the world was awakening from the ashes of war and plunging into an era of unprecedented wealth and technology. The towers of progress rose high, but so too did the emptiness in men’s souls. Graham, like a prophet crying in the wilderness, warned that a civilization driven solely by materialistic philosophy would gain the world but lose its soul.

Graham’s wisdom was born of experience, not theory. He had seen nations rebuild themselves on power and profit, only to fall again into moral ruin. He saw individuals chasing comfort, yet never finding peace. To him, materialism was not merely greed—it was a philosophy, a faith in things rather than truths. It taught that success was measured in possessions, not in purpose; that man’s worth was his wealth, not his wisdom. Against this, Graham placed the enduring strength of spiritual power—the power that comes not from gold or glory, but from the unseen flame of faith, humility, and love.

This question—material or spiritual—has echoed through history like a bell tolling for every generation. In ancient Rome, men worshipped the empire’s grandeur, its armies, and its wealth; yet when decadence devoured virtue, that empire fell to dust. In contrast, the humble followers of Christ, armed with no sword but their belief, built a spiritual kingdom that outlasted the marble and iron of Caesar’s world. Spiritual power, unseen but eternal, proved mightier than all the armies of the earth.

The same battle raged in later ages. In the industrial revolution, progress roared through iron and steam, yet child labor and poverty grew beside the factories. It was spiritual conscience, awakened in the hearts of reformers like William Wilberforce and Florence Nightingale, that restored balance and dignity to the age. They did not reject material progress; they redeemed it by infusing it with moral vision. This is the harmony that Graham spoke of—not the denial of matter, but the mastery of it through spirit.

For Billy Graham, the question was deeply personal as well as universal. He saw in the hearts of people—from presidents to prisoners—the same hunger: a longing that no possession could satisfy. The spiritual power he spoke of was not vague or abstract. It was the living force of conscience, of divine love, of the belief that man was created for something greater than consumption. To live only for material things, he warned, is to build one’s house upon sand; to live for the spirit is to build upon rock. The storms of time will test both, and only one will stand.

Thus, the lesson he offers is both simple and revolutionary: choose your master carefully. You cannot serve both gold and God, both vanity and virtue. Let your work be guided by purpose, not profit; let your progress be measured by compassion, not accumulation. If you achieve wealth, use it to uplift; if you wield power, temper it with mercy. For spiritual power is not weakness—it is strength sanctified by wisdom. It turns ambition into service, talent into blessing, and life into legacy.

Look around you, O listener of the modern age. The question that Billy Graham called “great” still burns in your time. The devices in your hands, the markets that never sleep, the endless hunger for more—these are the voices of material philosophy calling for your allegiance. But in the quiet of your heart, another voice whispers: Be still. Remember who you are. That is the voice of spiritual power, the divine reminder that you are not a machine of desire, but a soul of light.

So, as generations rise and empires fall, this choice remains: to live by the glitter of matter, or by the radiance of spirit. The first path dazzles but destroys; the second humbles but endures. Choose the spirit, as Billy Graham urged, and you will not merely exist—you will live, with a peace that no possession can give and a strength that no power can take away. For in the end, it is not the wealth of the world that defines a man, but the wealth of his soul.