Pastor's Weekly Word

 

I woke up that morning and was headed down the stairs of the apartment my wife and I were living in at the time in Indianapolis. “Someone crashed into one of the buildings in New York,” she said. Soon after, like everyone else, we realized what was actually happening. The entire day was quiet, filled with disbelief.

 

My childhood friend started his normal routine that morning, taking the subway to the twin tower station and grabbing a cup of coffee at Starbucks. This particular morning, though, he decided not to read the paper and headed to his office early instead. Had he not done that, he would no longer be with us. He ended up hiding in a fire exit while the buildings collapsed, thinking these were his final moments. Disoriented, struggling to breathe, and covered in soot, he wandered out of the smoke and ash and stink to wherever he could go. He made it. After months of counseling and personal work, he managed to process the horrors of that day, though it has left its mark on him. Every year on this day, he stays away from the internet and leaves the television off.

 

That evening the church I served in Indianapolis put together a prayer service for the city. People from all over came. I remember a lady walking up to me and falling into my arms with tears in her eyes. “What is happening to the world?” she said. I also remember the days that followed and the feel of a country that was unified. People talked about how this may be the thing that finally unites us. It turned out to be a fleeting reality.