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Remembering |
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Location: Blogs Brad's BlogMid-Week Missive |
 | | Posted by: Brad Miller | 9/15/2008 9:06 AM | Greetings!
So, yesterday wasn’t such a great day…so what? Things didn’t go as I planned…big deal! The air conditioner quit working in the office…it’ll get fixed! Besides, as Scarlett O’Hara reminded us… “tomorrow is another day!” As trite as that line sounds these days, she was right. It is now tomorrow, and while I had planned on writing about my bad day and finding a life lesson in there somewhere…why bother? It’s over, today the sun is shining, the air conditioning man is at work on the problem and life is good. As God promises, new beginnings abound, and every day is a new beginning.
I have been thinking about a day 7 years ago that seemed like it would never end. A day that seemed like the sky had fallen in on. A day that felt like the earth had stopped turning. A day that I was sure would not get better. But, once again, I was wrong.
The day did end. The sky did not fall. The earth did not stop turning. And things did get better.
Of course, I am talking about September 11, 2001, seven years ago today.
It was my generations “Day of Infamy”, much like December 7, 1941 was to my parent’s generation. A shock to our system so profound that it continues to dominate a large part of our political discourse. It was, in a word, horrible.
But I don’t need to tell you any of that. It was one of those days that everyone who was of a certain age remembers where they were, what they were doing, how they reacted when they heard the news. Three days rival it in my life, days where I can tell you exactly where I was and what I was doing when I “heard the news”: November 22, 1963, April 4, 1968 and June 6, 1968. Those dates represent the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy. They were defining moments for people of my age cohort, and in many ways, for the country as a whole. And September 11, 2001 became just such a defining moment, too.
When I think back to the day, a lot of it is a blur. I remember being absolutely numb when it became clear what had happened. I remember people gathered around the lone television we could find at Peachtree Christian Church, where I was the associate pastor. I remember racing for the phone to call Carol and her letting me know that because her office was right next door to the Centers for Disease Control, police had evacuated the building and she was on her way home. I remember one of our secretarys sitting at her desk, silently weeping, tears streaking her cheeks. I remember a television station wanting to interview someone about the church’s perspective, or what the church was doing, or something. The senior minister was out of town, so it fell to me to give the interview. 5 minutes after it was over, I had no idea what I had said, nor did I care.
I also remember what happened in the days to come. We opened up the sanctuary for anyone who wanted to pray, day or night. All of the ministers on staff met with members, non-members, people off the street, just to be there, to hear their stories and share their grief. Carol and I heard from friends who had close calls: two (including our brother in law) who normally would have been in the towers, but delays or other meetings kept them from being there that horrible day. Another friend was in line to board the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania, but a last minute phone call pulled him off the plane and to another destination where he was needed. I heard of a childhood friend in Manhattan who picked her daughter up at school on her bicycle and then with her husband on his bicycle, rode out of the city to the refuge of friends miles away in Connecticut. The President called for a national day of prayer on the Friday following September 11 and since the senior minister was out of town, I began preparations for the service.
Our organist couldn’t make it, so we decided it would be a solemn, silent service. We wanted to focus on scripture, prayer and communion. I asked the staff, janitors, ministers, secretaries, everyone, for a scripture reference that they leaned on when they needed comfort. We compiled them and decided on a very simple service. Two of us taking turns reading scripture, a pastoral prayer, a time of silent prayer, and communion. We had a weekday service that usually drew about 50 people, so we expected to maybe double that and prepared for about 100 folks.
About 11:45 on that Friday, our receptionist Agnes Ogir came into my office and said, “You need to come and see this.” As I stepped out in the hall, there were several people milling around I did not know, but that wasn’t all that unusual. She led me down the hall and out the front door where I saw a sight that astounded me. Streaming from office buildings and apartment complexes, and neighborhoods and parking lots were 100’s of people making their way toward the church and the Temple, the synagogue directly across the street. I had never seen anything like it. One of the elders of the church, Jim Cox, who was there for the service said, “You start the service, I’ll grab some people and make sure we have enough bread and juice to serve communion.”
And so we began.
The sanctuary was filled to the rafters. The choir loft was jammed with people. People stood in the side aisles and in the narthex and on the steps of the church. When all was said and done, they told me that they had counted over 900 people there to worship. We read scripture, we prayed together. And we celebrated communion – 900 people patiently waiting to come forward to hear those words, “the bread of life” and “the cup of salvation.” In silence they came. In silence they departed. And only after they had all left did my tears come. Tears of pain that I shared with those who came so solemnly, so much in need of the fellowship of Christ’s church. Tears of thanksgiving that the church was there to provide hope in the midst of such a hopeless situation. Tears of recognition that nothing would ever be the same again.
September 11, 2001 has indeed become a defining moment for our nation, but I prefer to think not of the political posturing and calls for policies to make sure it can never happen again. I like to think that we can stop it from happening again, but I don’t know for sure. But what I do know for sure is that in the midst of the worst pain we can suffer, the people of Christ’s church will be there to provide comfort and hope. I do know that in time of need, the people of Christ’s church will step up and do what needs to be done to provide some measure of relief. I do know that in times each of us needs someone to cling to, the people of Christ’s church will open their arms and say, ‘Welcome. Let’s get through this together.” And for that, and for each of you, I give thanks.
For your prayer list:
Please continue to keep all those who are recovering from illness, injuries and surgery in your prayers: Cynthia and Darrell Freeman, Judy Mowrey, Zeb Morgan.
Coming up:
Two big events coming up to mark on your calendar:
October 12 immediately after church, the Pumpkins arrive! All hands are needed, because I am sure you know, many hands make light work! And it’s fun! Also, look for signups for working on the Pumpkin Patch October 13 – October 31.
October 25: “More Hands for God Day”, the service day of the metro Atlanta congregations of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Watch for more information for this wonderful day of community service. The day will last from 8 a.m. to about 1:00 p.m. so there be plenty of time to catch the Michigan State football game on TV that day…or the game of your choice.
I hope that I will see you in worship this Sunday as we gather once again to celebrate the Lord’s Day together. We will continue our series called “We Call Ourselves Disciples: An Exploration of Our Faith Heritage” with a sermon entitled “Gather Round the Table.” The scripture lesson is 1 John 1:1-9. Have a great rest of the week.
Be peaceful,
Brad | | | Permalink | Trackback |
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