Quiet? Be
still? The storm on the waters of that
day may have listened to Jesus’ command.
For many of us our hearts have been anything but quiet and still since September
11th eighteen years ago. On
that bright Tuesday morning in September enemies slipped aboard three planes
gathering the storm clouds that would bring destruction to our shores.
In 30 A.D. the Satanic storm that wanted to destroy Jesus and his
disciples became a stretching of their faith, much like we all were tested with
Satan’s fear-spreading on 9/11.
Truth be known, I dread anniversaries like 9/11. As the media barrages us with the impending
memorials and commemorations I want to be quiet. I feel the storm surge rise
within me. All the submerged feelings of
grief, loss, and anger come to the surface:
anger surfaces as I watch the television
broadcasts the shadow of fear surfaces as I remember we live
in a different, more dangerous world frustration wants to overwhelm me because of
unanswered questions of why and when will this
all be repaid and when will it ever stop.
I ask in my inner need for justice, when will the
hurt go away for Elizabeth’s cousin John who was working in the building down
the street when the second plane zoomed overhead and plowed into the South
Tower?
I want to know when will the nightmares cease for the
children of diplomats my brother was teaching that day because they never got
to say goodbye to their parents?
When will the grieving cease for the father and children who were only 2 and 1
years old, when their Flight Attendant mother, 38 year old Sandy Bradshaw, took
part in the attempt to gain control from the terrorists on Flight 93 that day?
The questions renew every time there is a violent takeover, a
mass-shooting, or new deployment. Why,
Lord?
There is a story in one of Elie Wiesel’s books of a man, a crazy little
Jewish man. He lived in Europe during the Second World War. When the Nazis invaded he went into hiding in
his little town. When it was safe to
come out he ran to the local synagogue, looked upward and shouted, You
see, God, we are still here!
Throughout the occupation and holocaust sufferings this crazy little
Jewish man is in hiding, emerging periodically to shout to God, You
see, we are still here.
Finally, the man finds himself alone, the last surviving Jew in his little
village. He enters the synagogue, looks
up at the ceiling and whispers, You see, God, I’m still here.” And then he adds, but, you, God,
where are You?
Why, Lord usually turns into where ARE you, Lord? The question we have is no different…Why,
Lord…and Where Were You, Anyway?
The answer, our answer, is not the kind that takes the sting away from
tragedy and loss. Our answer is almost
as perplexing as the evil deed.
Where was God on September 11,
2001?
God was in the same place He was when Job got clobbered. Job would have made a wonderful capitalist
American citizen. He was God-fearing,
rich, respected and well-loved in his community. All the Methodist churches would have put Job
on the Administrative Council and Trustee boards.
He was also Satan’s target.
And God, sitting on the sovereign throne of eternity, watched:
as marauding Sabeans captured Job’s servants and
possessions as a lightning bolt took out his herds of sheep
and shepherds as the Chaldeans killed his servants and stole
his camels and as Job’s sons and daughters and their
families were having a family meal together, and a twister demolished the house
killing all of them.
God was in heaven, watching.
Where was God September 11,
2001?
God was in the same place watching His own son:
when he hung on the cross, when he died, when he was taken down and buried in a borrowed
grave.
God was in heaven, watching.
On September 11th God was in heaven…watching.
Sooner or later tragedy brings us back to Ground Zero. And God is watching.
And we always ask, Why? And the
answer is always the same.
God answered Job, He simply said, trust me. God answered Elijah, I have my remnant. God answered Paul, My grace is sufficient. And God answered Jesus on the cross when he
uttered those awful words, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
God answered with sovereign silence.
None of us knows why God allows some things and prevents others. We know He is God, and we trust Him because
His ways and thoughts are higher. Our
trust is found in being His children.
And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God,
to them who are the called according to his purpose. Romans 8.28(KJV)
Christine Wilson was painting the kitchen in her new home. She was also upset. She had accidentally stepped in the bucket of
bright Country Orange paint. She had no other shoes or socks, with her, so
she had to go pick up her four children from the sitter in sloppy mode. The children were napping, so the sitter
suggested Christine do a little shopping and pick them up later. Now, a mother of four young children will
jump on an offer like that! Christine
made a beeline for the local housewares section of the department store. There she found that all things do work
together for good – she was able to perfectly match the new kitchen dish cloths
and towels to her “Country Orange toe”.[1]
In the case of the cross, that orange toe proved to
be our salvation, and God’s free offer of eternal life.
Surely the God of the resurrection can use the bucket of Ground Zero to
birth something of eternal value in our lives.
May each of us open our hearts to let Him do so!
In the name
of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit…Amen!
[1] Adapted, A Problem Becomes a Solution, Christine
R. Wilson, Eureka
[i] Title Images: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
All Scripture quoted is from The New Living Translation (unless otherwise stated)
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