Seven years ago, this morning, I had just left one of morning classes and was driving to Wal-Mart to pick up a few items before returning to chapel at BJU. I remember getting in the car, turning on the radio, and hearing the stammers, the stutters, and the absolute disbelief of the news anchors as they tried to share that something, something absolutely unbelievable had just occurred.
I remember my hands tightening on the steering wheel as I heard the words “we are under attack.” In seconds, everything I have ever thought of freedom flooded my soul as I realized how much I take for granted.
At that moment, I didn’t know if there were planes flying all over the country, crashing into a sea of humanity with no concern, or if it was just central to the WTC. Later, I discovered, there were other attacks as well.
I stumbled into Wal-Mart, still intent on buying the things I needed. It was as though I still had a disconnect. I managed to the turn the radio off and walk inside the store after hearing of such horror! Like it was just a radio drama.
It didn’t hit me until I walked by the wall of TVs in the electronics department and saw the gaping mouths, the tears streaming, as a collection of folks who didn’t know each other shared hugs, pain, and fear. I wept as a I stood there because I saw people dying before my eyes and I was far away in a lone store watching their agony. I wept because these were fellow countrymen. I wept because I did not understand.
The clock kept ticking, and I found my way back to chapel before it started. I remember just like yesterday watching Dr. Bob III walk across the stage with his long legs (it seemed like he was in the pulpit in two steps) and his momentary silence as the tear-filled eyes of students (who were from all over the world) ached to hear something to encourage their troubled souls.
All I remember of the service is when we prayed. And how I felt God touch my soul as I literally shook in my seat. I had no words and yet I knew Jesus knew my pain. He knew the groanings I could not utter. It felt so unfair to be seated comfortably and pain-free as I knew that chaos and death were parading through the streets of New York City.
9/11 was when my eyes were opened to the pain of death and the hunger for freedom of people all around the world. 9/11 was when I realized how much I had taken my freedom for granted.
I will absolutely never forget 9/11.
And even though a few years have passed, and the horror of it (unthinkably) has seemed to diminish since those stark moments afterward, and how the politics of the people can cause you to wonder if you support America because you are a Christian or because you were born there – the reality is that God’s heart breaks whenever pain dances over the people he created.
Even our enemies.
I will always hold America dear. Because I was born in the land of the free and home of the brave.
But I will hold my soul’s freedom much dearer. Because I was created in the image of the everlasting God of all and His heart hurts when those made in His image cause death and pain to each other.
As Derek Webb sings, there will be a day when all of this too shall be made right.
The earth and the sky and the sea are all holding their breath
Wars and abuses have nature groaning with death
We say we’re just trying to stay alive
But it looks so much more like a way to die
This too shall be made right
I’m aching for that day. And until then, I will remember.