Yes, it's been a very busy day but I wanted to share just a few reflections on this, the eighth anniversary of the jihadist attacks on America.I was out of the country when it happened, serving as part of a Joni and Friends' "Wheels for the World" team in southern Poland. We had heard a couple of rumors in the late afternoon of September 11 about something very bad happening in the U.S. but we couldn't learn any details. I remember us (there were five Americans on the team) talking of the possibility of a major California earthquake or perhaps an assassination of President Bush or some other public figure. It was a harrowing time not knowing.
We didn't learn the full extent of the horror until that evening when we got to a local pastor's home where we could watch the BBC reports. As you undoubtedly were, we were stunned and could hardly take it in. Thousands dead. Terrorism on an unprecedented scale. Swelling fears of what was going to happen next.
And for Americans overseas like us, we couldn't even join hands with family and friends to find comfort and some sense of balance. It was really difficult. But it was nothing even close to the angst being felt by those whose loved ones had been murdered. They would never hold their hands again.
After a few minutes of watching those terrible film clips of the planes flying into the Towers, I was overcome. The others stayed there in front of the TV, sadly entranced by the program. But I thought it was producing a lot more confusion and fear and journalistic egoism than helpful news. And how many times could I view those scenes of a fiery holocaust without losing my mind?
I walked out into the night and prayed; then I cried a little and prayed some more.
I eventually started walking in the general direction of our hotel which was about a mile or so away, but I veered off occasionally into side streets and little parks. Several Poles, recognizing that I was American, came up to share my grief. Many were weeping; some wanted to shake my hand or even embrace me. None of us could communicate anything substantial with words...but we communicated nevertheless those most important things of the heart: sorrow, sympathy and an understanding that only God could bring peace out of such catastrophe.
I managed to speak to Claire that night. How important a blessing that was to us both. Incredibly, throughout the eight days or so that we remained in Poland, we were able to keep up fairly regular communication. We prayed together on the phone; we reminded each other of our security in Christ; and we shared strengthening passages of Scripture we were reading.
And we kept working.
There in Poland we had people who needed wheelchairs. We had several outreaches planned in conjunction with local churches to help people receive and get fitted to these sorely-needed machines. I also had speaking engagements besides. And Claire had work to do too. I had to warn her early on about the trap of becoming addicted to the news coverage, that all-too-typical feeling that you have to have an ear to the TV constantly in order not to miss any single detail. But no matter what, we have lives to lead, people to serve, and a mighty God to worship.
We counseled each other that we must not let these wicked terrorists do any more damage to us than they already have. We cannot let them drive us into caves in fear for our lives nor shut up our testimonies for Jesus Christ just because they hate Him with such irrational and evil virulence. We must move on.
But we must not forget.
No, never that. We must remember just how terrible are the "doctrines of demons" and how very high are the stakes involved in spiritual warfare. We must be willing to count the costs of genuine Christian discipleship and then, by the grace of God, live out those truths every day. We must fight back against evil and ignorance and tyranny, coming out from the safety of our sanctuaries (safety which is, after all, only illusory) and invest our lives in fervent intercession, bold evangelism, and the winsome virtues of compassion, justice and productivity.
Neither should we forget how Americans were drawn to God in those days of heartbreak and fear following those four abhorrent attacks...only to set Him aside as quickly as possible. Indeed, by the time I got back to the States, the "turning to God" had almost turned completely back round to the same preoccupations with entertainment, making money, the most petty of partisan politics and other "business as usual" pursuits.
People even acted embarrassed that they had, if only for a brief time, thought seriously about matters of mortality, God, prayer and the critical role of religion in society. The terrorist attacks had shocked us deeply but once we thought we were again safe, we quickly returned to the same secular courses we were in beforehand. And now we're eight years further down the way, with developments since then in our culture and our political structure that are more than secular; they are distinctly and determinedly anti-religious.
Did we forget 9/11? Of course we did. Did we arrogantly convince ourselves that we didn't need God after all, that we could achieve peace and prosperity and progress and popularity even with the Islamic fanatics who attacked us -- if we just put a certain person in the White House, thus not needing to bother with such ugly, cumbersome things as repentance, revival and real religion? Of course we did.
But still, there is hope. If Americans recognize that God is there and He is not silent, that He desires our very best (in this life as well as the much more important life to come), that His righteousness is completely and forever satisfied as men and women believe on the sacrifice of Christ for their salvation, there is still a whole lot of hope. Hope for our idol-worshiping nation, for His slumbering Church, and for every single person on the planet.
These are some of the things I'm thinking about on this, the eighth anniversary of the jihadist attacks on America.
