Ask any median adult (by that I mean 55 or older) where they were in 1963 when JFK was assassinated and I will guarantee they can tell you not only where they were but what they were wearing, what they were doing, and who they were with. There was no internet, no text messaging, no Facebook posting, no cable news, no Skype sharing. Yet the whole world knew what had happened within minutes. And the whole world was shaken. America mourned the loss of a beloved president and grieved a little boy’s sweet, final salute to his Daddy.

Fast forward to 2001. Not since that fateful, tragic day in 1963 has this country come together in crisis like it did on September 11th. Rescue workers from all over the country traveled to New York, DC, and Pennsylvania to provide whatever assistance they could to whomever needed it. People opened their homes and businesses to complete strangers, providing shelter and safety, a drink of water, a comforting embrace. Members of Congress (Democrat and Republican alike) sang ‘God Bless America’ on the steps of The Capitol. Churches opened their doors on a non-Wednesday week night to host prayer vigils for the dead and their traumatized survivors. Rudy Giuliani, his voice near breaking with emotion stated, “when the final numbers come in, it will be more than we can bear.” Somehow that observation stings in my heart and mind more than any other from that day.

I can tell you almost every detail of our lives from 9/11: Rachel was a toddler, still in her pajamas, playing in the den with our two dogs Tiger and Bo. I was still in my pajamas as well, enjoying my coffee while Rachel played. Richard had gone out to run an errand that morning and as I answered his phone call there was no mistaking the seriousness in his voice: “Turn on the TV. Turn on the news. I’m on my way home.” Minutes later we sat glued to the TV, trying to convince ourselves that it was air traffic controller error, a horrific computer glitch, something. Anything. And then the second plane crashed into the tower. This was no accident we whispered, as if whispering somehow made it less true. Rachel continued to climb on the dogs and serve them tea from her toy kitchen set, completely oblivious to the fact that our lives had changed in a moment. Nothing would ever be the same. Nothing.

We spent that afternoon and evening trying to explain to almost-12-year-old Alex what terrorists are and what drives them to commit unspeakable acts of violence. We tried to put in perspective that God was in those tragic final moments for the thousands who lost their lives. And that it wasn’t wrong to pray that the people responsible would be brought to swift and sure justice. Over the next days and weeks, we drove a little slower, spoke kinder words to strangers at the grocery store and gas station, shed tears without hesitation or embarrassment, and made the time to say, ‘I love you.’

We engaged in an unparalleled rally of American pride, unity, strength, and resilience. We recited the Pledge of Allegiance with stronger voices, steadfast resolve, and unwavering confidence in WHO WE ARE as Americans. We drew comfort from a president’s tender yet unmistakeably strong message of hope. Yes, we suffered a severe blow at the hands of madmen that day. We bore the grief of millions on our broad American shoulders. We endured the mocking humiliation and shame of those who thought they had won the victory. We swallowed the bitter gall of death. But we need to remember there is One who had already done it all before.

For all the men and women who serve and fight bravely every day for our freedom in America, I know the One who served and fought bravely for our freedom in eternity.  He suffered severe blows at the hands of madmen. He bore the grief (and sin) of millions – no, billions – on his perfectly broad, sinless shoulders. He endured the mocking humiliation and shame of those who thought they had won the victory. He swallowed the bitter gall of death. And he came back victorious. He won the battle and He has already won the war. For you. For me. For the world. On this tenth anniversary of 9/11 as we remember and reflect, I encourage you to get to know Him.

His name is Jesus.

Advertisements