So, it’s been 20 years ago since that horrific morning in September when the face of evil was revealed in living color, crashing with smoke and flames like hell fire into buildings filled with innocent, unsuspecting victims.
On that morning, I’d just dropped my middle-schooler off and was listening to my car radio. There had been a morning radio show that was always comical; I had always enjoyed listening to the light-hearted banter of the radio hosts. On that early morning in September 2001, those radio hosts were gasping for words, as if the grief was just too heavy for them to comprehend. Airplanes. Explosions. New York. These words rattled me. What? What were they crying about? Why were they using profanity? What? More words: Are we under attack? Airplanes. New York.
I pulled into the post office parking lot, and quickly headed towards the doors. A man looked at me, his face ashen. “We’re under attack.” He called to me.
My heart dropped. I looked towards the clear, painfully blue autumn sky, and watched the man dash to his car. In the post office people were talking. I hurriedly mailed my letter and headed home.
I turned on my television, sat on the edge of my sofa with my poodle puppy Buddy nestled in my lap. Like a repeat from hell, I watched the rapid replay of those planes slam into those towers. Speechless, I sat there. Dear God.
My attention turned to my son who had just began middle school. The local news said that all schools were on lockdown. Children were being told to wait until their parents could come and pick them up. The world stood still. Nobody knew what was going to happen. Were there more planes on the way? Was this just the beginning of more destruction? Was this the end of the world as I knew it?
There had been immediate speculation over who had done this. There had been immediate explanations, and of course the blame against the United States, as if we had somehow deserved this.
Those innocent people who had gone to work that day, dropped their children off at school, and sat in their offices probably thinking about what they were going to cook for dinner in that evening that they unknowingly would never see, DID NOT DESERVE TO HAVE THEIR LIVES SNUFFED OUT BECAUSE OF SOME GEORELIGIOUSPOLITICAL BULLCRAP! There I said it! Those people were not responsible if some fanatic got their underwear in a wad and got offended about something said about them or to them.
Fact is, twenty years later, the grief and the anger is still palpable. In my city, we still have signs that say “911, never forget.” How could we possibly ever forget the cowardly, evil attack against innocent people?
There is never, ever justifiable reasons to take an innocent person’s life.
If you’re a fanatic, take your complaint to the Hague. Take your complaint to the courtrooms and legal jurisdictions of your communities.
Take your evil, dark heart before God, get on your knees and bow your forehead into the hard earth, and beg the Almighty ruler of the universe to cleanse you of your evil soul, to restore you and to cleanse you. Evil is not of God. Evil is of the devil. If you do evil, you are the devil.
Repent and rebuke the devil and he will flee from you.
James 4:7 says: Submit yourselves, therefore, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.
The devil slammed the towers that September morning.
But, those towers have been rebuilt.
God is still on His throne.
On this clear September morning twenty years later, I look back and think about how absolutely shocked and saddened I felt.
Even now, whenever I see images of those flames and that smoke rising up, my heart aches.
I remember hearing about that plane going down in that Pennsylvania field. I remember hearing about how those aboard that flight fought back.
In the tapestry of our lives, it really is a fight against good and evil.
We can choose good rather than evil. We have freewill. People like to make excuses that such and such caused them to do something.
In the end, we all stand before God with our own choices.
We can’t blame anyone but ourselves.
That realization hurts.
Too bad on that morning, those hijackers hadn’t stepped back and searched the depths of their hearts. Surely, surely, a tiny voice had whispered, had warned each of them that what they were about to do was evil. . . . . .
How could they have not known that it was an evil act? How could they have not known?
Just, how?
God have mercy on all our souls.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2021
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