I shared my memories of September 11, 2001 back in May, and now I thought I'd post this poem I wrote shortly after the horrible events of that fateful day.
It began as a peaceful Tuesday morning The sun shone, the birds chirped Who knew what was about to happen? Who knew the peace would be shattered? That planes would crash into buildings? That thousands of lives would suddenly be cut short? That fireballs so huge could billow out of national landmarks? Who foresaw bodies falling 110 stories to the ground? The World Trade Center plummeting after them? The Pentagon in flames? Smoke billowing into the sky, Blotting out the sun, Turning the bright blue sky a dismal gray? Dust blanketing a city in a velvety, macabre coat? Who could have known on such a bright sunny day That in a few minutes a nation would be in shock? That a planet would be in grief? That in 225 years the US had never seen such a disaster As what was about to happen?
Who would have guessed that in one morning, A sharply divided nation would come together To donate blood, to pick up the pieces, to pray for our fellow Americans?
Who could have known that in one morning, A nation, an earth, would forever be changed?
Who foresaw an outpouring of grief, Of sorrow, Of love, Of flowers, Of candles, Of silence, Across the nation, Across the earth? Who knew flags across the world Would soon be placed at half-mast?
Only God knew And He held up the towers for an hour To let people escape
Only God knew And He caused the planes to hit the towers high enough That they collapsed straight down Rather than falling over And wiping out more of Manhattan
Only God knew And He diverted a plane away from the White House Into the only part of the Pentagon That had been retrofitted For terrorist attacks
Only God knew And He stopped in mid-flight Another plane headed for the White House Sending it crashing Into a field.
Praise be to God For sparing us from something worse Praise be to God!
It was September or October of 2002. Thanks to the sun, that is one of the worst times of the year to drive, and I had a class in Everett, WA. I had just left school to head home, and the sun was setting. I had to drive up a hill, and the sun in all its brilliance was just over the ridge of the hill, straight ahead. There was no way to avoid looking into the sun, as I would have had to block off the windshield or shut my eyes, either of which would have been dangerous. I couldn't see ahead of me, and I quickly realized that it would be too dangerous to continue forward, as the sheer brilliance of the sun was blocking everything. But the alternative was almost as dangerous. I realized I had to turn around, but that meant turning left into a parking lot, crossing the oncoming lane. I couldn't see if there were any cars coming! Finally, I said a prayer and trusted that God would protect me when turning blindly. They were some of the most terrifying seconds I have ever experienced, but God protected me and no cars came while I was crossing. Needless to say, I went the other way and made it home safely. But I will never forget that day, when God taught me an important lesson about faith. Sometimes all you can do is pray and trust that He will protect you, then make the leap.
Fast forward a few years, and I was going to a reunion for a former employer who had gone out of business. It was in the form of a picnic at Seattle's Carkeek Park. I got to the park and searched for our group. Nobody. I never did find the group, so I ate the food I had brought and left. I was involved in a play with UPAC Theatre Group at the time, and rehearsal was that evening. Carkeek Park is pretty close to the rehearsal and performance space, so I drove to rehearsal. The park is in a particularly hilly area of town, and as you are leaving, there is one corner that has a stop sign, and the hill on which you have to stop is somewhat steep. I hate waiting on hills as it is, since it's somewhat challenging to get enough traction to go forward rather than backward. In addition, that particular corner intersects a tree-lined street. Between the trees and the fence, it makes for a blind corner. So I inched forward as far as safely possible in order to have at least the front tires on a flat surface and so I could see around the trees. When it looked safe, I started forward again. Just then, a car that must have been going about twice the speed limit zoomed past, coming out of nowhere, and very nearly hitting me. If it had, I would have spun out of control and probably rolled down the hill. Thankfully, I had enough mental faculties left to get to rehearsal safely, but I was very shaken. I have not driven to or from Carkeek Park since. Again, God protected me.
I am incredibly thankful for God's protection. He has brought me through many close calls, and I have grown as a result. I would not want to repeat them, but I'm thankful that He's allowed me to experience them as He had a lesson for me each time.
The year was 1986. My mom, my brother Tim and I were on our way to the airport to pick up my dad. I was sitting in the front passenger seat, and Tim was in the back. Nearly to the airport, we were stopped at a traffic light in what is now the city of SeaTac (so named because it's between Seattle and Tacoma), and there was a garbage truck ahead of us. The light turned green, and nothing happened. The car ahead of the garbage truck was not moving. (I forget if it was stalled or the driver had decided to get out while the light was red.) So it was that the garbage truck with its high rear bumper started to back up. My mom laid on the horn, but the driver continued to back up, not hearing. We couldn't back up because there were cars behind us. The truck was folding our hood, and my mom and I sat there terrified, praying desperately. My poor brother was sitting in the back seat with visions of being the only survivor. It wasn't until our windshield shattered that the truck driver finally heard and stopped...within a few inches of crushing us. He got out and came back, observing that it was "obviously my fault." Once he pulled forward again, we found that the car was (thankfully) still driveable. The two vehicles pulled into the parking lot of the nearby Red Lion Inn, where my mom and the truck driver spoke with the police. The officer dismissed the other driver, and he got out his ticket pad. He informed my mom that this was his least favorite part of his job, but that he was going to have to give her a ticket for speeding! Why he didn't bother to get the facts first, I may never know. She said, "But sir, I was sitting still!"
"You mean he backed into you?!" he said. When my mom answered in the affirmative, the officer managed to catch the truck driver, who came back and corroborated the story. When he looked at the other driver's license, he wished him a happy birthday. I'm guessing that was not the driver's favorite birthday ever.
After we were dismissed, we continued on to the airport and picked up my dad, and our next stop was the repair shop. We liked the rental car better than our normal car. :-)
Some things I learned from this experience were that God is there, He hears our prayers, and He is our protector. Any time we are in a scary situation, we can pray to Him, and He will hear. Even when the driver ahead of you can't hear your horn.
Also, we should never jump to conclusions. There are better places to jump.
It was my first day driving on my own, with nobody else in the car. I had been to work many times, of course, but I had always either gotten a ride, driven with someone in the car to help me get there, or taken the bus. Now I was on my own. It was a simple trip from Mountlake Terrace to Bothell, WA. Maybe 5 miles, tops. No sweat, right?
But then came the missed turn. I went straight when I should have turned right. Pretty soon I found myself in Maltby. This was a cause for concern, as I had never been to Maltby before, and I had no idea where Maltby was. It's a pretty city, and I might have enjoyed it, had I intended to go there. Pretty soon I found a sign pointing to Bothell and followed it. I didn't see any other signs, and before I knew it, I found myself in an abandoned yard for an old building that looked like it hadn't seen people working there in about 50 years or so. OK, turn around...now what?
I continued on my way in a direction that I figured was (hopefully) the way to Bothell, but pretty soon, I saw a Clearview Restaurant. Then a Clearview Gas Station. I was getting worried now because it looked like, judging from the common thread in the names of the businesses, Clearview was a city. I had never heard of Clearview, and that was quite concerning. I continued along a highway that seemed to go on and on, and I got the feeling I was getting farther and farther from my destination. Finally, I found an exit and turned around.
When I finally got to work, I was 2 hours late. Fortunately, once I explained the delay, we all had a good laugh. The drive should have taken about ten minutes.
(Click on the map to see it larger)
I thought that was the end of my adventures for the day, but my hopes were to be dashed shortly after I left work (2 hours later than I normally would have left). Not far from the parking lot, I was turning right onto the road that crossed the freeway. The light was red, but in the state of Washington, it is legal to turn right on a red light as long as it is safe. This being my first day driving on my own, I was somewhat less than confident, and so I turned right...way too slowly. A car that was already on the road I was turning onto came sailing through the light (his light was green, and he had the right of way), and he crashed into the rear driver's side light.
Needless to say, I was terribly shaken. The police officer had to console me before issuing the ticket. I called my dad, who came over right away, and was also a big help.
A $100 fine to the city of Bothell and over $400 of repairs later, I learned that sometimes going too slowly is a bad thing. Since then, every time I drive, I am very conscious of the dangers of driving. It instilled more of a fear than ever of making a stupid mistake, and I have become a better driver because of it. Since then, I have not gotten any more tickets, and I hope never to get one again.
That day, I also learned another important lesson: Knowing where you're going and how to get there ahead of time is very important. It may make for a funny story, but being late is very often not funny at all.
It should be the same with how we view God. We need to study His roadmap (the Bible) regularly, so that we are ready for whatever circumstances may come our way, and we know when we need to turn around...sooner rather than later. And we need to watch, be alert, and be careful to follow what He has taught us through His word and through life experiences.
Driving, and following the Lord, are incredibly liberating experiences, but if we don't balance our freedom with a healthy fear, we can forfeit (or at least impair) that freedom.
"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." -Proverbs 9:10a
This is the first of a short series of blog posts (inspired by my friend Andy Brasfield) about what I've learned over the years about the fear of the Lord, and driving in general.
When I was young, I kept hearing about how the Bible says we're supposed to fear God. Then other times angels told people not to be afraid. Other verses are very clear about how God loves us, and He wants to be our best friend. When we choose to follow God, we are free as never before. How are we supposed to be afraid of our best friend and liberator...and if He inspires fear, is He really a friend and liberator in the first place? This dichotomy has led, in my opinion, to a misunderstanding of God's nature, especially in American circles, where our culture frowns on fear and encourages friendship. We are taught that God is our friend, and we have nothing to fear. Then we see verses like 1 John 4:18, which says that "perfect love drives out fear." When we look at the verses about the fear of God, we get confused, and we often decide the word must be mistranslated. Maybe it means awe, or something else. It wasn't until I started taking driver's ed when something sunk in for me. I submit that fear means fear. Sheer, abject terror.
While learning to drive, my dad (who taught me) was very clear about the dangers of driving. He impressed upon me that a car can be a weapon, and it is vitally important to be careful, to drive defensively, to do everything possible to stay within the law and avoid getting in an accident. The point was further emphasized when he had me go to a day class taught by a professional instructor. After I got to the class, I found out that it was mainly for people who had been ordered by the courts to attend. The icebreaker for the class was for us to go around and answer the "Why are you here?" question. Everyone but me had broken the law, had DUIs, etc. I was the only one who hadn't yet obtained a license. The more I learned, the more the parallel dawned on me regarding the fear of the Lord.
Driving, and serving the Lord, are incredibly liberating. Once I got my driver's license, it was like a huge load was lifted off of me. I no longer had to depend on people giving me rides everywhere I needed to go.
Driving, and serving the Lord, are incredibly terrifying. I have been in enough accidents (more on that in a future post) to know that if I do anything out of line while driving (or someone else on the road does), I am taking my life, and the life of any passengers, in my hands.
In the same way, serving the Lord makes me free. On numerous occasions, He has given me an incredible sense of peace, and I would not trade this life for anything. I have seen Him do miracles in my life - not the least of which was how He miraculously healed my eyes from an incurable disease.
However, the Bible tells over and over about how, while God loves us deeply, our sins can drive Him to extreme measures to get our attention. Over and over in the Bible, God sent plagues, storms, diseases, opened the ground and swallowed people. Even today, He sometimes allows us to suffer the consequences of our sins to teach us to follow Him. He will allow us to get sick, sometimes even die, from choosing to abuse our bodies (by drugs, cigarettes, overeating [I'm guilty on that count], etc.). If we choose to speed, run a red light, fail to watch carefully while driving, we can get into a wreck that can cause serious repercussions.
On the other hand, we shouldn't be so terrified of driving, or of God, that we do nothing. If we go to that extreme, that can also have serious repercussions.
Yes, driving is incredibly freeing, and I love that...but I also balance it with a healthy fear of getting in an accident. That fear keeps me from making stupid mistakes while driving. It should be the same with God...and even more so. I love Him more than I can express, but I also fear Him. The problem is, I don't fear Him enough. If I love and fear driving more than I love and fear God, I need to get my priorities straight.
One thing that has stuck with me from a devotional I read years ago is the saying "If you fear God, you have nothing else to fear."
My first quarter of worker retraining officially ended today.
I got to school a little before 9:00, and a few minutes later, I was in the library working on my final project for my graphic design class, which was due at 1:30. As the library has an earlier version of InDesign than the classroom, I could only do part of it in the library. Fortunately, the classroom had extra lab hours today, starting at 11:00. Unfortunately, I had a math final at 11:30. I went to the graphic design classroom at 11:00 to get at least something done with my project. The lab tech wasn't there and the room was locked. After waiting about 20 minutes, I finally had to go in order to get to my math final on time.
So with no progress made on the project since leaving the library, I took my math test. It was taking longer than I was hoping for it to take, and the longer it took, the more worried I got. Suddenly, Luke 12:25 popped into my head (I love how God does that!):
"Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?"
The irony of it all! Here I was wanting more time to do my graphic design project, and worrying that my math final would take too long! I was constantly glancing at my watch (I finally had to take it off and put it on the table face-down), and the more I worried, the harder it was to think, and the more worried I got as a result. It's a vicious cycle. I wonder how long my math test would have taken if I hadn't been worried in the first place.
When I finally finished my test, I rushed back to the graphic design classroom, and (thankfully) the room was open by that point. I had about 20 minutes to finish my project and get it printed. I was getting to the panic stage. Needless to say, I got the project in, but it was not in color as it was supposed to be (no time to print it on the right printer). When I handed it to my teacher, I told him I had come at 11:00, and the lab tech wasn't there. He apologized for that, and he later told me that he would look at the color version on the computer (we also turned in a soft copy over the server). Knock on wood, thanks to the lab tech's mistake that was out of my control, I won't be docked for turning it in a few minutes late and in black and white. But I wonder if I would have been able to get it in sooner, had I let go of my worry and taken care of what I could control. It certainly did not add an hour, and my worry actually WASTED time.
Another lesson learned that had nothing (and everything) to do with math or graphic design.
1 Peter 5:7 has always been one of my favorite verses. Peter challenges the churches he is writing to to "cast all your anxieties upon Him, for He cares for you." I especially like the Phillips translation: "You can throw the whole weight of your anxiety on Him, for you are His personal concern." It amazes me that the Almighty God cares for me individually and would bend to take care of everything that worries me.
More recently, I have gotten to know the Louis Segond version (in French), which says, "...et déchargez-vous sur lui de tous vos soucis, car lui-même prend soin de vous." (literally "...and unload yourselves on Him of all your worries, for He Himself takes care of you.") When I first saw that translation, I took note of it because it's one of my favorite verses, but didn't think much of the differences in meaning between French and English. Then a few years later, I realized that the French verb décharger means "to unload", rather than "to cast" or "to throw" (although unloading does often involve a throwing action). I thought that was interesting. Then, later, I pointed that out to my friend Jerri, who shed new light on it. She commented that, coming from a farming background, the idea of unloading brought to her mind an image of driving a pickup with heavy machinery, then unloading it and being able to sail. I love that image. Then a couple weeks ago, I thought further about it, and it occurred to me that the word "unload" carries more connotations than I had realized. At least in English (not sure if this applies to French or not), the word "unload", when referring to worries, can also mean pouring your heart out to someone, telling them everything that's worrying you. In the past, I always interpreted the verse to mean that I should just pray to God and ask Him to take away my worries. I realized that it can also mean to unload my worries on Him, to pour out my heart. I know from experience that doing that with anyone that I know I can trust is a powerful thing.
Just now, I decided to look into the Greek version:
Apparently, the word ἐπιρίψαντες (epiripsantes) only appears twice in the New Testament. The other occurrence is in Luke 19:35, when Jesus’ disciples threw their clothes on the donkey’s back so He could sit on it in order to enter Jerusalem. The way it is conjugated, the word means “having thrown.” But in a way, even in the verse in Luke, they took their cloaks off of themselves to put them on the donkey for Jesus. That’s also, to an extent, unloading.
I’m not sure if Peter had the idea of unloading in his mind when he wrote it, but I love that image, and I think it is more powerful than just asking God to take away our worries. Don’t get me wrong, He is happy to do that if we ask Him, but unloading ourselves onto Him, pouring out our hearts to Him, can be a powerful tool. Even just talking out what we are worried about, and listening for His response, can go a long way to helping us through the pain of whatever we’re going through. Whether or not we have another human around to share with, God is always there, and He loves it when we share our worries and concerns with Him. He can help put things in perspective, help us to lean on Him, and take away a lot of the worry.
Today's Sunday school lesson...a paraphrase of John 13:
It was Passover time in Jerusalem, and the city was crowded. The Jews celebrated it every year to remember how God led the children of Israel out of slavery so many centuries earlier. Sunday was an exciting day. Riding on a donkey, Jesus led His twelve disciples into the city, and the crowd went wild! They were so excited to see the One who had been promised ever since the time of Adam and Eve. A lot had happened since then, and Israel had lived as a Kingdom for a while, but then the nation went back into slavery. The first time, they were slaves in Egypt to the southwest. The second time, they were slaves in Babylon and Assyria to the east. God delivered them from that slavery as well, but they were never the same. Before they knew it, a new kingdom called Rome took over, and their Emperor Caesar was not the nicest guy to be around. Herod, the governor he had appointed, was also pretty bad. (Herod’s dad had actually tried to have Jesus killed when Jesus was a baby!) Not only that, but the Jewish Priests and teachers had looked at the Law that God gave Moses, and they had added a bunch of extra laws, which got harder and harder to keep.
For centuries, the prophets had told Israel that a Messiah would come and deliver them from their bondage once and for all. So now, Sunday was the first day of the week of Passover. Just as the prophets had said, Jesus had finally come, and the people could hardly contain their joy! They laid down coats and palm branches and shouted, “Hosanna! Save us! Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord!”Some of these people had seen Jesus raise His friend Lazarus from the dead a few days earlier, and they were pumped!
The next few days, Jesus taught the crowds and His disciples a lot, and He even did a bunch of miracles for them. When Thursday rolled around, the time had come for the annual Passover Feast. This was to remember the last meal the Israelites ate before leaving Egypt long ago. Jesus sent Peter and John to a certain house in Jerusalem to set up the upstairs room and prepare the food for the feast. But there was something important they didn’t do. There was nobody to wash their feet.
Back in Bible times, they had no cars, no minivans, not even paved roads. People got around by walking on the dirty, dusty roads, wearing only sandals. Some people had horses, camels and other animals that they used to carry things and to ride on. If you’ve ever walked behind a horse, you know you have to watch your step. Not only that, but when it rained, the dirt on the roads turned to goopy mud. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t keep their feet clean.
Washing people’s feet was very important when they came into a building…but it was a really dirty job, and nobody wanted to do it! So, the servants would wash people’s feet.
When the feast was all ready, Jesus and the rest of His disciples arrived at the house and got ready to eat. But there was an important thing that needed to happen first. Where was the servant that was supposed to wash their feet? Oops! None of them wanted to do such an awful dirty job right before eating!
So the disciples were gathered around the table, and Jesus stood up. He took off His outer robe and wrapped a towel around His waist. Then He picked up a basin full of water and knelt down in front of one of the disciples, and He started to wash his feet! The promised Messiah, who they knew was God in human form, their leader, friend and teacher, was doing the icky, smelly job that only the lowest of the low were supposed to do! These hands had created their feet in the first place! Once the first disciple’s feet were clean, Jesus dried them with the towel and went on to the next disciple. Peter watched as Jesus made His way around the table, washing the gunk off the disciples’ feet, and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Finally, when Jesus got to Peter, he had had enough. He decided to put his foot down, and he blurted out, “Lord, are you really gonna wash my feet?”
Jesus answered, “You don’t understand what I’m doing yet, but you’ll understand it later.”
Peter said, “Are you kidding? You will never wash my feet!”
“If I don’t wash you,” Jesus said, “you have no part with me.”
“OK,” said Peter. “In that case, wash my hands and head too!”
Jesus then reminded Peter that he didn’t need a bath; he just needed his feet washed.
After Jesus finished washing 24 filthy feet, He sat back down and asked them if they had figured out why He did that. When nobody answered, He went on. “You say that I’m your teacher and your Master. You’re right. I’m your teacher and your Master, and I’ve just washed your feet. You need to do that for each other. I did it to set an example for what you need to do. The truth is that no servant is greater than his master, and the messenger isn’t greater than the person who sent him. Now you know. You will be blessed if you do it.”
Today, we don’t usually need to wash each other’s feet. But there are a bunch of other things we can do to serve others. Something that other people don’t want to do, but needs to be done. Can you think of anything?
A couple weeks ago, I was on Facebook and saw an ad that said that if I "Liked" the page for the Ranger's Apprentice series, I could download the first ten chapters of book one, The Ruins of Gorlan. Since I enjoy books of that sort, I decided to go for it. The free download, as was their intention, hooked me, and over $40 later, I am now a proud owner of the first six books. :-)
Book one begins with the preparations of Morgarath, the evil Lord of the Mountains of Rain and Night and former baron of the fief of Gorlan in the kingdom of Araluen. Fifteen years earlier, he was driven out of his fief in a sound defeat, and he has been lying in wait, preparing his army of Wargals, a sort of humanoid creature with features of dogs and bears, to attack and make another attempt at conquering the Kingdom. Also on his side are the Kalkara, huge hulking animals like bears with ape-like features.
Meanwhile, in the fief of Redmont, a group of orphans lives in the ward of the castle of Baron Arald. When they turn 15, they are eligible to apply for apprenticeship to varying Crafts, or occupations, that are each very important in their own way to the running of the fief and the kingdom. Young Will, the smallest of the eligible orphans for this year, has always dreamed of joining battleschool and becoming a brave Knight like his father, whom he never knew but pictures as a valiant knight who died gloriously in battle shortly before Will was born, and was instrumental in Morgarath's defeat. Unfortunately for Will, his small size is against him, and Battlemaster Sir Rodney turns him down. However, his agility and ability to hide, sneak and climb catch the attention of the mysterious Ranger Halt. The Rangers of Araluen play a vital role in the running of the kingdom. Each Ranger is assigned to a fief, and he must protect the fief, scout out threats, and remain unseen. The previous defeat of Morgarath was due in large part to a critical tip from a Ranger who went ahead of the army and alerted them to the location of the enemies. Due to the secretive nature of the job, the Rangers are a mysterious bunch.
Over the next few months, Halt begins to teach Will the skills he will need as a Ranger in the coming war with Morgarath, especially developing a keen sense of observation, as well as knife throwing and archery. Will Will be up to the task before him, which is more daunting than he realizes?
***
This book is masterfully written. Author John Flanagan does an amazing job of keeping the reader anxious for more, while crafting a true work of art. He brilliantly weaves danger, intrigue and humor. Will and his fellow wardmates each encounter unexpected challenges, and they learn the power of teamwork as well as developing their talents. Horace, another orphan of Will's age, encounters a trio of ruthless bullies in battleschool, and must deal with the constant torment that they cause him. Will shows great promise in his skill as a Ranger. Horace discovers his natural talent for swordplay. Both boys find they must work together at times to overcome incredible odds. As for humor, I love how Baron Arald loves to crack jokes that only he fully appreciates. The Ranger Gilan, who we meet later in the book, has a clearly mischievous side, though he is a masterful Ranger. Even Halt, who hardly ever smiles, proves to be hilarious at times, although his humor is often more subtle. Another thing I appreciate about this book is Will's honesty. When confronted with a past misdeed, he owns up to it and agrees that it was wrong. At another time, he is involved in a victory, and the stories of his part in the battle are blown way out of proportion among the villagers. This bothers him because he wasn't nearly as heroic as they make him out to be (although he did do a very courageous thing), and he is very concerned that the other people involved don't get much credit. Oh, and did I mention that Halt, Will and Gilan enjoy coffee? :-)
The only negative bit I saw was that some of the names seemed a bit cliché. With a name like Morgarath, how can he help but be the villain? His name reminded me of the land of Mordor in Lord of the Rings (not to mention that in those books, Frodo was stabbed with a morgul blade). It also very closely resembles Mulgarath, the archvillain in The Spiderwick Chronicles (which I haven't read, but I enjoyed the movie). The Wargals, which even have dog-like features, reminded me of the Wargs in Lord of the Rings. Come to think of it, their name is also similar to the Urgals of The Inheritance Cycle, who play a similar role. Also, the Rangers are similar to what Aragorn and his kinfolk do in Lord of the Rings, although Flanagan says that he based that element more on the Texas Rangers (not the baseball team). Interestingly, his publisher made him change the name of the Kingdom of Arathon because it sounded too much like Aragorn. (The series was originally called The Arathon Rangers.) So it became Araluen instead.
Oh, and there is a little bit of mild language.
Overall, The Ruins of Gorlan is an amazing book, and I can't wait to read book 2. I can tell I'm going to enjoy this series.
(I got the picture from the downloads page on the series' website.)
Update: I just watched some videos from the author, and realized that he puts the stress of Morgarath's name on the second syllable, rather than the first. That makes it sound much less cliché.
Last night, I checked my e-mail "one last time" before going to bed and found some significant news. President Obama announced that a small group of Americans had found and killed Osama bin Laden, and they had positively identified his body via DNA tests.
It was 1993 the first time I remember hearing about Bin Laden. A bomb went off in the parking garage below the World Trade Center. Bin Laden took credit, and he was attempting to take the building down by destroying its base. Thankfully, that attempt failed, and the damage was repaired.
The next time I remember hearing of him was that fateful day in 2001. I woke up the morning of September 11, and I was headed toward the bathroom to start getting ready for work. My mom stopped me at the door of my room, and she was visibly shaken. She told me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Not being fully awake, my first thought was, "Who cares?" As it sank in, I started to realize that I cared. We hurried into the living room and watched in horror as the news reports showed a huge plume of fire and smoke billowing out of the World Trade Center. Further horror ensued as we watched a plane slam into the second building. At that point, I had to start getting ready for work, as I wanted to be sure to arrive on time. I took a small portable radio into the bathroom while I was getting ready, and I prayed desperately. It was then that I heard on the radio that a third plane had slammed into the Pentagon. I prayed even more desperately, and later heard that a fourth plane had crashed in a field in Pennsylvania, thanks to the heroic efforts of some passengers who had tackled the hijackers and prevented them from reaching their target. Walking to work, I glanced at the newsstands and saw a headline about whales...suddenly such a trivial subject. By lunch time, the papers had been replaced with special editions proclaiming, "ATTACKED!"
My job at the time was on the 9th floor of a Seattle highrise. At the time, nobody knew where the terrorists' next target would be, and early in the day, our managers told us we could go home if we wanted. I opted to stay, as the worst that could happen was that a plane would slam into our building, I would be killed, and then go to heaven, never to suffer again. That didn't seem to me such a bad option. Thankfully, there were no more attacks, but one thing I will never forget is the news reports of people dancing in the streets in the Middle East, celebrating the fact that America had been attacked and thousands had been killed. It hurt deeply to see their sick glee.
I never dreamed that nearly ten years later, the same celebrating over a death would be taking place in America. At long last, the perpetrator of these attacks has been caught and brought to eternal justice. Part of me is thankful that Bin Laden will no longer be inflicting his fierce hatred on America. I'm grateful to our brave troops for going in and doing the job that needed to be done, carefully avoiding the killing of innocent lives, and getting the bad guys. This is a great victory, and for that I'm glad. However, it saddens me to see Americans gleefully celebrating a man's death. I don't care who he was or what he did, celebrating any death is a sin. Proverbs 24:17-20 states:
Do not gloat when your enemy falls;
when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice,
or the LORD will see and disapprove
and turn his wrath away from them.
Do not fret because of evildoers
or be envious of the wicked,
for the evildoer has no future hope,
and the lamp of the wicked will be snuffed out.
It makes me incredibly sad to think that a man who had so much potential could go so wrong. He was definitely an evildoer and an enemy, but Jesus gave His life for Osama bin Laden just as much as He did it for anyone else. Whatever evil Bin Laden did, it is truly a tragedy that he now has to pay with an eternity of fire and torment. It is without a doubt what he deserves, but that is a punishment I would not wish on my worst enemy, and it is what all of us deserve.
I think about Bin Laden's sympathizers dancing in the streets celebrating the attack on America, and I am ashamed to think that we would do the same thing when Bin Laden is killed. Yes, victory is a cause for celebration, but death is not.
On the other hand, just yesterday our pastor preached on King David's friends later in life. One of those friends was General Joab. David's reign was threatened by a bitter enemy named Absalom, who was determined to overthrow the King and take over. One catch: Absalom was David's son. David commanded Joab to crush the rebellion but to spare the life of his son. However, when Absalom's hair got caught in a tree and Joab was nearby, Joab took that opportunity to put an end to the threat to the King's life. When David heard the news that his son was dead, he was heartbroken. He mourned so deeply that his army slunk away as if they had suffered a defeat rather than a great victory. Joab then had to go to the King and remind him that the army had saved his life. While David didn't celebrate his son's death, he did realize the need to encourage the army and his subjects, and he returned to his duties.
Another thing that just came to mind was that after the Israelites crossed the Red Sea on dry land, and then the sea collapsed on the Egyptian army, the Israelites sang a song of praise to God for delivering them from the oppressive Pharaoh. They brought out their tambourines and danced in celebration.
All that to say, I have mixed feelings about Bin Laden's death. This is a great victory, and I think we should be thankful for God's protection and that He allowed us to get the bad guy. I believe that this action saved thousands of lives, and the soldiers who carried out the attack on his compound did a truly heroic thing. But the fact that he died without a Savior or a hope of salvation is a great tragedy.
Maybe the thing we should be celebrating is not his death, but the fact that the lives of who-knows-how-many people that would otherwise have been killed by his evil have been saved.
Finally, I will say something that may sound strange at first. I am thankful for Osama bin Laden. I know he was an evil man. He was a perpetrator of genocide, and he probably would have made Hitler proud. But he did what very few people have done in recent American history. His deed on September 11 united America. Democrats and Republicans and people of all religions came together in a way that I have only seen once to march behind a common purpose, and for once, we all agreed on something. It was a beautiful thing. For that, I thank Bin Laden. May we continue in that spirit of unity.
