Eleven years ago today I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing (yes, I was still in bed at about 8:45 am on a Tuesday morning - the joys of working from home for a company two time zones behind you). It was my mom, telling me I needed to turn the television on - one of the Twin Towers had been hit by a plane. It took me a moment to comprehend what she was saying, but I eventually managed to fumble around and find my remote and flip the television on. Moments later, I watched in horror along with the rest of the country as the second plane smashed into the South Tower. Not long after that, the Pentagon was hit as well. Then the rumors began - the Capitol had been hit, the White House, etc. It was pandamonium in New York and Washington, D.C. while the rest of the nation sat glued to their television sets.
There were a lot of emotions that went through me that day. Naturally, there was fear. Not just for myself, but for the friends that lived and worked in or around the WTC and the Pentagon. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard from one of my friends who passed under the WTC every morning - she was at her school as a teacher on lockdown - but was ok. Then I heard from friends at the Pentagon. One was in a meeting on the other side of the building when the plane hit - but his office was struck and he lost almost his entire staff. Another friend had just been standing where the planes hit about two minutes earlier and was walking out another set of doors.
I would later become well acquainted with someone else who lost 39 of his co-workers that day as he sat on a plane and watched the fireball from the Twin Towers from his seat on an airplane on the way to Vegas to get married.
But of my personal friends - at that moment, it seemed everyone who was in Harm's way was OK... or so we thought - until we got word that a friend of ours from Kansas City, Randy, had been in a building next to the WTC and during the evacuation, was struck by a piece of falling debris when the second plane struck. He'd been on his phone with his wife following the first plane to let her know he was fine and was being evacuated. He said he would call when he got to wherever they were being evacuated to. He never called back. His phone was eventually answered by someone who had picked it up off the street. He hadn't even had time to put it away before being struck in the head. That day, a total stranger had seen to it Randy was taken to the hospital and stayed with him until his family arrived a few days later (which was it's own interesting tale trying to get into New York City in the days following 9/11). Randy remained on life support for two more weeks until they were able to transport him to Kansas City and have the machines removed.
The night before the funeral, we sat in the hotel room with his parents, and I remember as we talked about the events, his mother sat there and said, "I know God has a plan. That this will all be for some kind of purpose."
I also remember thinking, "That's a pretty crappy plan." But I admired the woman's steadfast faith. I wondered how, in the midst of that grief, anger and pain, she was able to remain so calm and so sure.
While Randy's death was indeed sad, and was intermixed with a nationwide mourning and grieving, I soon came to realize - my world had utterly changed. Not only had my world changed - but I had changed. While there was a period of bitterness and anger that permeated many of my thoughts, there was also the slow realization regarding how insecure our world and our lives really were. There was a realization that the world I had grown up in, the world I had come to know and been so sure of, was not the world of my future. Life was no longer about just doing my job, paying my mortgage, and having a little fun along the way. Life, I determined, had to be about something more. There was no security in that life anymore.
So on a trip to Los Angeles for work just a few weeks after the airlines began running again, I remember sitting on my hotel bed, watching the news, reading my Bible, and going - "What a messed up and scary world we live in." (Because in LA, pretty much the first ten minutes of the news is the violent death report). And in that same breath/thought, I went, "There has to be more to my life than sitting in a hotel room ordering room service watching the nightly death-toll." Surely in this hurting world, I had something else to offer?
In 2001, the thought/idea of becoming a pastor was still a few years away - but the seed had been planted. (It still is sometimes a bit of reality check to be honest) Part of my journey was mingled with the pain and confusion of trying to figure out what that possible "plan" Randy's mother talked about could have possibly been. Where was God and what was He up to with that terrible day?
It took time, but I eventually came to realize - as horrible as the terrorist attacks on 9/11 were, they were a drop in the bucket when you look at the atrocities committed on a daily basis throughout the world, of human suffering being inflicted by other humans, genocide being perpetrated on epic scales throughout many third world countries. Syria, Rwanda, Serbia/Bosnia, Liberia - I remember my first year of seminary sitting and listening to a classmate of mine from Liberia talking about how three times she had been the next in line to be shot by militants - and every time someone had stepped in and saved her. She had watched family and friends gunned down in cold blood, raped, abused and mutilated. And she wanted to go back. To bring the hope and light of Christ to her people so divided and damaged by civil war. Her world was a world I did not fathom - a world I barely knew existed. Sure, I'd heard about such things - but until you're face to face with the reality and its repercussions, it doesn't fully sink in. The tragedy of 9/11 opened my eyes up to the larger world and the problems that I had been so insulated and sheltered from for so long.
So while yes, my security was ripped away that day never to really return, my naive world-view was also ripped away - and that was not such a bad thing. I realized nothing in this world is secure or immune from the ravages of human-wrought evil. Trusting in governments, military, and political leaders was a misplaced trust. True security would come only from one place - God and God alone. Whether I lived or died, I knew that being secure in my faith was the only form of security that actually had any teeth. I could live in a world ruled by fear - or I could live in a world ruled by hope. I could be part of a people who reacted out of fear - or part of a people who wanted to move forward in hope. The latter eventually won out (though that was not without its struggles)
Does that mean I don't still have moments of fear? That I don't still worry that we could have another terrorist attack at any time? Of course not. It's merely a question of whether or not I let it rule my daily life and my actions.
Randy and 3000 other people didn't die that day just so I could have an epiphany regarding my life, the world and my faith. But as I have come to realize - God still utilized the opportunity to show me something else, to reveal a different path that he wanted not just for me, but a path he desires the world to take. "Love your enemy" was indeed a hard pill to swallow in the aftermath of such a terrible day, I can't argue with that. But hatred, anger and retribution don't seem to have gotten us very far as a people or a nation eleven years later. I don't even feel a strong hatred and anger toward Al Qaeda and groups like them anymore. When Bin Laden was killed, I didn't rejoice like I might have at one point. I only felt a certain futility and sadness for all people who are held captive by hatred, oppression and revenge.
Many today are saying "Never Forget" over social media - and indeed, it is a day not to be forgotten. The question is: as a day we will never forget as a people and a nation, how do we honor and remember those who were lost as we move forward into the future? More war? More violence? More emails that warn us about the dangers of Islam?
I admittedly don't have a lot of hope that any of our current political leaders or candidates hold the answer to help heal the wounds of our nation and world - they seem more interested in dividing us over issues of economy, religion, and social definitions. Perhaps that's because ultimately, that's a job for Christ - but as Christians, we have a role in helping bring about that healing. The "now and not yet" of God's Kingdom. Yet, we Christians seem divided over how that future shall come about. Allow the mayhem and bloodshed to continue as part of some "divine plan" or unite together as a healing presence in our world today?
As Christians, we have a vision that is strong in our faith and our consciousness. A vision where all nations stream to the mountain of God to be healed, a vision where the leaves of the tree of life are utilized not to destroy the nations of the world, but for the healing of the nations of the world. Where the old ways of war, death and suffering are wiped away and remembered no more.
I don't have the answers for how exactly we get there in a post 9/11 world - of how to properly deal with our economic issues, our foreign policies or how to even handle and respond to the surge in terrorist cells around the world.
But I do have a hope - and a promise - that we will one day get there. It may seem bleak right now with all the problems we face as a nation and a world - but it is what I continue to cling to and what I continue to work and strive for each and every day. No, I will never forget what happened on 9/11 - but I hope for a future where the fear of that day does not rule our world. I hope for a day when Christians can be united in a voice for justice and peace rather than known for hatred, hypocrisy, judgmentalism and division. Where "Love your enemy" and "Love your neighbor" is the overriding view of who and what Christians are about.
I know for me, that while remembering 9/11 still carries with it pain, grief, and sorrow - it also carries a hope that we are merely in the dark before the dawn. That God's "plan" is for eventual healing and good.
There were a lot of emotions that went through me that day. Naturally, there was fear. Not just for myself, but for the friends that lived and worked in or around the WTC and the Pentagon. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard from one of my friends who passed under the WTC every morning - she was at her school as a teacher on lockdown - but was ok. Then I heard from friends at the Pentagon. One was in a meeting on the other side of the building when the plane hit - but his office was struck and he lost almost his entire staff. Another friend had just been standing where the planes hit about two minutes earlier and was walking out another set of doors.
I would later become well acquainted with someone else who lost 39 of his co-workers that day as he sat on a plane and watched the fireball from the Twin Towers from his seat on an airplane on the way to Vegas to get married.
But of my personal friends - at that moment, it seemed everyone who was in Harm's way was OK... or so we thought - until we got word that a friend of ours from Kansas City, Randy, had been in a building next to the WTC and during the evacuation, was struck by a piece of falling debris when the second plane struck. He'd been on his phone with his wife following the first plane to let her know he was fine and was being evacuated. He said he would call when he got to wherever they were being evacuated to. He never called back. His phone was eventually answered by someone who had picked it up off the street. He hadn't even had time to put it away before being struck in the head. That day, a total stranger had seen to it Randy was taken to the hospital and stayed with him until his family arrived a few days later (which was it's own interesting tale trying to get into New York City in the days following 9/11). Randy remained on life support for two more weeks until they were able to transport him to Kansas City and have the machines removed.
The night before the funeral, we sat in the hotel room with his parents, and I remember as we talked about the events, his mother sat there and said, "I know God has a plan. That this will all be for some kind of purpose."
I also remember thinking, "That's a pretty crappy plan." But I admired the woman's steadfast faith. I wondered how, in the midst of that grief, anger and pain, she was able to remain so calm and so sure.
While Randy's death was indeed sad, and was intermixed with a nationwide mourning and grieving, I soon came to realize - my world had utterly changed. Not only had my world changed - but I had changed. While there was a period of bitterness and anger that permeated many of my thoughts, there was also the slow realization regarding how insecure our world and our lives really were. There was a realization that the world I had grown up in, the world I had come to know and been so sure of, was not the world of my future. Life was no longer about just doing my job, paying my mortgage, and having a little fun along the way. Life, I determined, had to be about something more. There was no security in that life anymore.
So on a trip to Los Angeles for work just a few weeks after the airlines began running again, I remember sitting on my hotel bed, watching the news, reading my Bible, and going - "What a messed up and scary world we live in." (Because in LA, pretty much the first ten minutes of the news is the violent death report). And in that same breath/thought, I went, "There has to be more to my life than sitting in a hotel room ordering room service watching the nightly death-toll." Surely in this hurting world, I had something else to offer?
In 2001, the thought/idea of becoming a pastor was still a few years away - but the seed had been planted. (It still is sometimes a bit of reality check to be honest) Part of my journey was mingled with the pain and confusion of trying to figure out what that possible "plan" Randy's mother talked about could have possibly been. Where was God and what was He up to with that terrible day?
It took time, but I eventually came to realize - as horrible as the terrorist attacks on 9/11 were, they were a drop in the bucket when you look at the atrocities committed on a daily basis throughout the world, of human suffering being inflicted by other humans, genocide being perpetrated on epic scales throughout many third world countries. Syria, Rwanda, Serbia/Bosnia, Liberia - I remember my first year of seminary sitting and listening to a classmate of mine from Liberia talking about how three times she had been the next in line to be shot by militants - and every time someone had stepped in and saved her. She had watched family and friends gunned down in cold blood, raped, abused and mutilated. And she wanted to go back. To bring the hope and light of Christ to her people so divided and damaged by civil war. Her world was a world I did not fathom - a world I barely knew existed. Sure, I'd heard about such things - but until you're face to face with the reality and its repercussions, it doesn't fully sink in. The tragedy of 9/11 opened my eyes up to the larger world and the problems that I had been so insulated and sheltered from for so long.
So while yes, my security was ripped away that day never to really return, my naive world-view was also ripped away - and that was not such a bad thing. I realized nothing in this world is secure or immune from the ravages of human-wrought evil. Trusting in governments, military, and political leaders was a misplaced trust. True security would come only from one place - God and God alone. Whether I lived or died, I knew that being secure in my faith was the only form of security that actually had any teeth. I could live in a world ruled by fear - or I could live in a world ruled by hope. I could be part of a people who reacted out of fear - or part of a people who wanted to move forward in hope. The latter eventually won out (though that was not without its struggles)
Does that mean I don't still have moments of fear? That I don't still worry that we could have another terrorist attack at any time? Of course not. It's merely a question of whether or not I let it rule my daily life and my actions.
Randy and 3000 other people didn't die that day just so I could have an epiphany regarding my life, the world and my faith. But as I have come to realize - God still utilized the opportunity to show me something else, to reveal a different path that he wanted not just for me, but a path he desires the world to take. "Love your enemy" was indeed a hard pill to swallow in the aftermath of such a terrible day, I can't argue with that. But hatred, anger and retribution don't seem to have gotten us very far as a people or a nation eleven years later. I don't even feel a strong hatred and anger toward Al Qaeda and groups like them anymore. When Bin Laden was killed, I didn't rejoice like I might have at one point. I only felt a certain futility and sadness for all people who are held captive by hatred, oppression and revenge.
Many today are saying "Never Forget" over social media - and indeed, it is a day not to be forgotten. The question is: as a day we will never forget as a people and a nation, how do we honor and remember those who were lost as we move forward into the future? More war? More violence? More emails that warn us about the dangers of Islam?
I admittedly don't have a lot of hope that any of our current political leaders or candidates hold the answer to help heal the wounds of our nation and world - they seem more interested in dividing us over issues of economy, religion, and social definitions. Perhaps that's because ultimately, that's a job for Christ - but as Christians, we have a role in helping bring about that healing. The "now and not yet" of God's Kingdom. Yet, we Christians seem divided over how that future shall come about. Allow the mayhem and bloodshed to continue as part of some "divine plan" or unite together as a healing presence in our world today?
As Christians, we have a vision that is strong in our faith and our consciousness. A vision where all nations stream to the mountain of God to be healed, a vision where the leaves of the tree of life are utilized not to destroy the nations of the world, but for the healing of the nations of the world. Where the old ways of war, death and suffering are wiped away and remembered no more.
I don't have the answers for how exactly we get there in a post 9/11 world - of how to properly deal with our economic issues, our foreign policies or how to even handle and respond to the surge in terrorist cells around the world.
But I do have a hope - and a promise - that we will one day get there. It may seem bleak right now with all the problems we face as a nation and a world - but it is what I continue to cling to and what I continue to work and strive for each and every day. No, I will never forget what happened on 9/11 - but I hope for a future where the fear of that day does not rule our world. I hope for a day when Christians can be united in a voice for justice and peace rather than known for hatred, hypocrisy, judgmentalism and division. Where "Love your enemy" and "Love your neighbor" is the overriding view of who and what Christians are about.
I know for me, that while remembering 9/11 still carries with it pain, grief, and sorrow - it also carries a hope that we are merely in the dark before the dawn. That God's "plan" is for eventual healing and good.
No comments:
Post a Comment